are
too passionate, too acutely sensible of injury. It would be truly to be
lamented, if a man so inferior, so utterly unworthy to be compared with
you, should be capable of changing your whole history into misery and
guilt. I have a painful presentiment upon my heart, as if something
dreadful would reach you from that quarter. Think of this. I exact no
promise from you. I would not shackle you with the fetters of
superstition; I would have you governed by justice and reason."

Mr. Falkland was deeply affected with this expostulation. His sense of
the generous attention of Mr. Clare at such a moment, was so great as
almost to deprive him of utterance. He spoke in short sentences, and
with visible effort. "I will behave better," replied he. "Never fear me!
Your admonitions shall not be thrown away upon me."

Mr. Clare adverted to another subject. "I have made you my executor; you
will not refuse me this last office of friendship. It is but a short
time that I have had the happiness of knowing you; but in that short
time I have examined you well, and seen you thoroughly. Do not
disappoint the sanguine hope I have entertained!

"I have left some legacies. My former connections, while I lived amidst
the busy haunts of men, as many of them as were intimate, are all of
them dear to me. I have not had time to summon them about me upon the
present occasion, nor did I desire it. The remembrances of me will, I
hope, answer a better purpose than such as are usually thought of on
similar occasions."

Mr. Clare, having thus unburthened his mind, spoke no more for several
hours. Towards morning Mr. Falkland quietly withdrew the curtain, and
looked at the dying man. His eyes were open, and were now gently turned
towards his young friend. His countenance was sunk, and of a death-like
appearance. "I hope you are better," said Falkland in a half whisper, as
if afraid of disturbing him. Mr. Clare drew his hand from the
bed-clothes, and stretched it forward; Mr. Falkland advanced, and took
hold of it. "Much better," said Mr. Clare, in a voice inward and hardly
articulate; "the struggle is now over; I have finished my part;
farewell! remember!" These were his last words. He lived still a few
hours; his lips were sometimes seen to move; he expired without a groan.

Mr. Falkland had witnessed the scene with much anxiety. His hopes of a
favourable crisis, and his fear of disturbing the last moments of his
friend, had held him dumb. For t