"And when Tom shall be of age he must take my place, you know, and draw his full half share. _That_ was always an understood thing between you and me, Jacob, if I were taken. Your own son will, I suppose, be coming in shortly: so that in later years, when you shall have followed me to a better world, the old firm will be perpetuated in them--Chandler and Chandler. Tom and Valentine will divide the profits equally, as we have divided them." "To be sure," said Jacob. "Yes, yes; my mind is at rest on the score of worldly things. I would that all dying men could be as much at ease. God bless and prosper you, Jacob! You'll give a fatherly eye over Tom and George in my place, and lead them in straightforward paths." "That I will," said Jacob. "I wish with all my heart this dreadful day's work had never happened!" "And so will I too," put in the Squire. "I'll look a bit after your two boys myself, Chandler." Mr. Chandler, drawing his hand from his brother, held it towards the Squire. At that moment, a suppressed stir was heard outside, and an eager voice. Tom had arrived: having run all the way from Islip. "Where's papa?--where's he lying? Is he hurt very much?" Cole appeared, marshalling him in. A well-grown young fellow for sixteen, with dark eyes, a fresh colour, and a good-natured face; altogether, the image of his father. Cole took a look down at the mattress, and saw how very much nearer something was at hand than it had been only a few minutes before. "Hush, Tom," he said, hastily pouring some drops into half a wine-glass of water. "Gently, lad. Let me give him this." Poor Tom Chandler, aghast at what he beheld, was too frightened to speak. A sudden stillness fell upon him, and he knelt down by the side of his mother. Cole's drops did no good. There could be only a few last words. "I never thought it would end thus--that I should not have time granted me for even a last farewell," spoke the dying man in a faint voice and with a gasp between every word, as he took Tom's hand. "Tom, my boy, I cannot say to you what I would." Tom gave a great burst as though he were choking, and was still the next minute. "Do your duty, my boy, before God and man with all the best strength that Heaven gives you. You must some time lie as I am lying, Tom; it may be with as little warning of it as I have had: at the best, this life will last such a little while as compared with life eternal. Fear God; find your Saviour; love and serve your fellow-creatures. Make up your accounts with your conscience morning and evening. And--Tom----" "Yes, father; yes, father?" spoke poor Tom, entreatingly, as the voice died away, and he was afraid that the last words were dying away too and would never be spoken. "Take care of your mother and be dutiful to her. And do you and George be loving brothers to each other always: tell him I enjoined it with my closing breath. Poor George! if I could but see him! And--and--and----"