Bergan meditated. Though he had long known that his uncle's habits would be likely to bring him, sooner or later, to a drunkard's most miserable end, he could not but think it somewhat suspicious that the seizure should have followed so closely upon the completion of the fraudulent will. "When was my uncle taken?" he asked. "Early this evening. He had been drinking a good deal for two or three days past; he said he did not feel well, and he would keep at the brandy bottle, in spite of all that I could say to him. About ten o'clock this morning, Doctor Remy came in to see him, and I suspect, told him something that made him angry,--for I heard him swearing furiously to himself, after the doctor had gone. And then, probably, he fell to drinking worse than ever; but it was not until about four o'clock that I heard him groaning and crying out, and he has kept it up a good part of the time ever since. But now, I think, he seems to be getting a little easier." Bergan turned to the bed. The spasm was over, and the Major lay exhausted, with his eyes closed. Opening them, they immediately brightened with a look of recognition. "Is that you, Harry?" he asked, feebly. "Yes, uncle," replied Bergan, taking his hand; "Rue sent for me, and I came at once. I am sorry to see you so ill." "I think you are, my boy, I think you are," responded Major Bergan; "you look like it, and besides, a Bergan never lies. And I'm sorry, too,--all the more, because I suspect that it's my own fault. If ever you learn to drink--and I don't feel quite so sure that it's necessary as I did once--don't drink too hard, Harry, don't drink too hard! If ever I get over this bout, I swear I'll think twice, hereafter, before I drink once. And if I don't, I'm glad you're here, Harry, boy; it's well for the new master to be on before the old one is off." "I hope that you will live to carry your good resolutions into effect," said Bergan earnestly. "Do you? Well, so do I." He lay quiet for a moment, busy with his own thoughts. All at once he started up, exclaiming;-- "Fire and fury! what's that?" The negroes caught hold of him, expecting a fresh convulsion of the same nature as the preceding ones; but, though his face was frightfully distorted, and his form writhed with pain, there was no accompaniment of phantasmal horrors. "Brandy!" he finally gasped, through his set teeth. Rue motioned to one of the women in waiting to bring some. Bergan put his hand on her arm. "Surely you will not give it to him _now_," said he, impressively. "The doctor said he must have a little, now and then," she answered. But before the glass could be put to his lips, he groaned, shuddered from head to foot, and fell back on the pillow, with his eyes rolled up in his head, his hands clenched, and a dark froth issuing from, between his shut teeth. He was dead. XI. AFTER MANY DAYS.