, and there is this and that to
say--as there always is at the parting."

"I see that you are worse, father. Let me go for the doctor now."

"I will have no man meddle with the hour of my death; no one shall
either hurry or delay it."

"The doctor might give you some ease from your sore pain."

"I will bear His will to the uttermost. But come near to me, David; I
have some last words to say, and there is One at my side hasting me
forward."

"Tell me your wish now, father. I will do all that you desire."

"When you have put me in my grave, go to Shetland for me. I thought
to do my own errand--to get there just in time to do it, and die;
but it is hard counting with Death--he comes sooner than you expect.
David, I have brought you up in the way of life. Think no wrong of
me when I am gone away forever. Indeed, you'll not dare to," he said
with a sudden flash of natural pride in himself; "for though I may
have had a sore downfall, I could not get away from His love and
favor."

"None living shall say wrong of you in my hearing, father."

"But, David, there are those of the unregenerate who would make
much of my little slip. I might die, lad, and say nothing to any
man about it. Put a few peats on the fire; death is cold, and my feet
are in the grave already; so I may tell the truth now, for at this
hour no man can make me afraid. And there is no sin, I hope, in
letting Matilda Sabiston know, if she is still alive, that I owe Bele
Trenby nothing for the wrong he did me. St. Paul left the Almighty
to pay the ill-will he owed Alexander the coppersmith; but I could
not ask that much favor, being only Liot Borson; and no doubt the
Lord suffered me to pay my own debt--time and place being put so
unexpected into my hand."

Then he was awfully silent. The mortal agony was dealing its last
sharp blows, and every instinct impelled him to cry out against the
torment. But Liot Borson had put his mortality beneath his feet;
nothing could have forced a cry from him. His face changed as a
green leaf might change if a hot iron was passed over it; but he sat
grasping the rude arms of his wooden chair, disdaining the torture
while it lasted, and smiling triumphantly as it partly passed away.

"A few more such pangs and the fight will be over, David. So I will
swither and scruple no longer; I will tell the whole truth about
the drowning of Bele Trenby. Bele and I were never friends; but I
hated him when he began to meddle betwee