will not bring, with this Virginia land, more than enough to pay my debts and a few legacies." He stopped a moment, out of breath, and the silence was only broken by Madame de Fonblanque's faint sobs.
"Nobody has ever yet relied upon my generosity without experiencing it. But everybody that has ever fought me, I have made to rue it," he continued.
Madame de Fonblanque sank kneeling by his chair, and wept nervously.
"Will you—forgive me? You must."
"Rubbish!"
"And are you not afraid to go into that other world with a fellow creature crying after you from this for forgiveness?"
"Not a bit. I never knew what fear was. Pain, instead of making me fear death, has rendered me totally indifferent to it. I am astonished at myself now, that I feel so little apprehension."
Madame de Fonblanque got up from her knees. Living or dying, he was unlike other men.
"Now," said he, "I want you to make me a promise. Dying people's requests are sacred,
