"This is a solemn moment," said the priest. "But sooner or later it comes to us all. You are fortunate in having all your faculties."
The dying man smiled grimly.
"Is there any wrong that you have done that you wish redressed?" the priest asked.
"None that I can remember," said the dying man.
"But you are sorry for such wrong as you have done?"
"I don't know that I am," said the dying man. "I was a very poor hand at doing wrong. But there are some so-called good deeds that I could wish undone which are still bearing evil fruit."
The priest looked pained. "But you would not hold that you have not been wicked?" he said.
"Not conspicuously enough to worry about," replied the other. "Most of my excursions into what you would call wickedness were merely attempts to learn more about this wonderful world into which we are projected. It's largely a matter of temperament, and I've been more attracted by the gentle things than the desperate. Strange as you may think it, I die without fear."
"But surely there are matters for regret in your life?" the priest, who was a conscientious man, inquired earnestly.
"Ah!" said the dying man. "Regret? That's another matter. Have I no occasion for regret? Have I not? Have I not?"