"My sight is growing dim, then," said the invalid. "Listen to me, both of you. I charge you, Anthony and Julia Dare, that you divide this money with Edgar Halliburton. Give him his full share; the half, even to a farthing. Will you do so, Anthony Dare?" "Yes, I will, sir." "Be it so. I charge you both solemnly--do not fail. If you would lay up peace for the time when you shall come to be where I am--do not fail. There's no time legally to do what is right; I feel that there is not. Ere the deed could be drawn up I should be gone, and could not sign it. But I leave the charge upon you; the solemn charge. The half of my money belongs of right to Edgar Halliburton: Julia has claim only to the other half. Be careful how you divide it: you are sole executor, Anthony Dare. Have you your paper ready?" "Yes, sir." "Then dot down a few words, as I dictate, and I will sign them. 'I, Richard Cooper, do repent of my injustice to my dear nephew, Edgar Halliburton. And I desire, by this my last act on my death-bed, to bequeath to him the half of the money and property I shall die possessed of; and I charge Anthony Dare, the executor of my will, to carry out this act and wish as strictly as though it were a formal and legal one. I desire that whatever I shall die possessed of, save the bequests to my servants, may be equally divided between my nephew Edgar and my niece Julia.'" The dying man paused. "I think that's all that need be said," he observed. "Have you finished writing it, Anthony Dare?" Mr. Dare wrote fast and quickly, and was concluding the last words. "It is written, sir." "Read it." Mr. Dare proceeded to do so. Short as the time was which it took to accomplish this, the old man had fallen into a doze ere it was concluded; a doze or a partial stupor. They could not tell which; but, in leaning over him, he woke up with a start. "I can't die with this injustice unrepaired!" he cried, his memory evidently ignoring what had just been done. "Anthony Dare, your wife has no right to all my money. I shall leave half of it to Edgar. I want you to write it down." "It is done, sir. This is the paper." "Where? where? Why don't you get light into the room? It's dark--dark. This? Is this it?"--as Mr. Dare put it into his hand. "Now, mind!" he added, his tone changing to one of solemn enjoinder; "mind you act upon it. Julia has no right to more than her half share; she must not take more: money kept by wrong, acquired by injustice, never prospers. It would not bring you good, it would not bring a blessing. Give Edgar his legal half; and give him his old uncle's love and contrition. Tell him, if the past could come over again there should be no estrangement between us." He lay panting for a few minutes, and then spoke again, the paper having fallen unnoticed from his hand. "Julia, when you see Edgar's wife--Did I sign that paper?" he broke off. "No, sir," said Mr. Dare. "Will you sign it now?"