inister a
restorative in order to strengthen his nerves.

"Away--out of sight," muttered the excited baronet, leaving no doubt on
all present, that the uppermost feeling of the moment was the strong
desire to rid himself of the presence of the offensive object. "Sir
Reginald--little Milly--poor servants--brothers--all the rest, stay."

"Just be calming the mind, Sir Wycherly Wychecombe," put in Magrath,
"and ye'll be solacing the body by the same effort. When the mind is in
a state of exaltation, the nervous system is apt to feel the influence
of sympathy. By bringing the two in harmonious co-operation, the
testamentary devises will have none the less of validity, either in
reality or in appearances."

Sir Wycherly understood the surgeon, and he struggled for self-command.
He raised the pen, and succeeded in getting its point on the proper
place. Then his dim eye lighted, and shot a reproachful glance at Tom;
he smiled in a ghastly manner, looked towards the paper, passed a hand
across his brow, closed his eyes, and fell back on the pillow, utterly
unconscious of all that belonged to life, its interests, its duties, or
its feelings. In ten minutes, he ceased to breathe.

Thus died Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, after a long life, in which general
qualities of a very negative nature, had been somewhat relieved, by
kindness of feeling, a passive if not an active benevolence, and such a
discharge of his responsible duties as is apt to flow from an absence of
any qualities that are positively bad; as well as of many of material
account, that are affirmatively good.

CHAPTER XV.

"Come ye, who still the cumbrous load of life
Push hard up hill; but at the farthest steep
You trust to gain, and put on end to strife,
Down thunders back the stone with mighty sweep,
And hurls your labours to the valley deep;--"

THOMSON.

The sudden, and, in some measure, unlooked-for event, related in the
close of the last chapter, produced a great change in the condition of
things at Wychecombe Hall. The first step was to make sure that the
baronet was actually dead; a fact that Sir Gervaise Oakes, in
particular, was very unwilling to believe, in the actual state of his
feelings. Men often fainted, and apoplexy required _three_ blows to
kill; the sick man might still revive, and at least be able to execute
his so clearly expressed intentions.

"Ye'll never have act of any sort, testamentary or mat