“Oh, Sir, I promise you,” cried Agnes, earnestly, and scared by his anxious feebleness; “your wishes shall be obeyed in all points.”

“Good girl, good girl,” sighed he; and though the effort pained him sharply, his face exhibited a great content.  “Send Charley to me,” said he, presently, in a faint voice.

“But you are tired already,” remonstrated Agnes.  “You have talked enough for to-day; see him to-morrow.”

“To-morrow!” repeated Richard, with a smile that chilled her heart.  “There will be no to-morrow, dear, for me.  Reflect hereafter that you made my last day a happy one.  Kiss me, daughter.”  This term, which was uttered very fondly, did not surprise her, for she little guessed its full significance.  She bent down, and kissed his forehead.  “Send me Charley.”

Those were the last words she ever heard him speak.

Agnes had told the young fellow how much feebler Mr. Balfour seemed that day, and warned him to make his interview as brief as possible; but Charley was of a sanguine temperament, and to his view the sick man looked better.  The recent excitement had heightened his color, and, besides, he always strove to look his best and cheerfulest with Charley.

Balfour told him all that he had already said to Agnes respecting the provision he had made for her; he thought it better to relieve her from that task.  But, to do Charley justice, he was neither grasping nor jealous.  Nothing seemed more natural to him, or even more reasonable, than that Agnes should be made sole heiress.

“As for me, I should only make a mess of so much money,” said he, laughing. “She understands how to manage”—­meaning that she had a talent for administration of affairs—­“five thousand times better than I do.  Her father has taught her all sorts of good things, and that among them.  You see the poor governor and I—­we never pulled together.  Perhaps if I had had a father a little less unlike myself, I might have been a better son, and a wiser one.  It was unfortunate, as Mrs. Basil used to say.  You remember her, of course?”

“Yes, indeed.”

The sick man’s tone was so full of interest that Charley, with great cheerfulness, proceeded to pursue this subject.

“She was an excellent old soul; and, for her age, how sprightly and appreciative!  I remember—­the very last time she came down to dinner—­telling her that story of yours about the stags in harness, and it so interested her that she made me repeat it.  It seemed to remind her of something that she had heard before; and yet the incident was original, and happened within your own experience, did it not?”

“It did,” said Balfour, hoarsely.

“I am tiring you, my dear Sir,” said Charley, anxiously.  “What a fool I have been to chatter on so, when Agnes particularly told me to be brief!  I shall leave you now, Sir; I shall indeed.  Is there any thing I can do for you before I leave?”