The exact problem respecting chapel people she left unstated, and in closing the door behind her made some unnecessary noise. Then Priscilla folded Nathan in her arms and kissed him. He held her hand and shut his eyes while she talked; but presently he roused himself and indicated that the confession to his children must not in safety be longer delayed. "I don't feel particular worse, though I had a bit of a fight for wind last night; but I am worse, and I may soon be a lot worse. They'd better all come to-day--this afternoon." "They shall," she promised. "If that was all--my God, if that was all, Priscilla!" "It is all that matters." "'Tis the least--the very least of it. Dark--dark wherever I turn. Plots miscarried, plans failed, good intentions all gone astray." She thought that he wandered. "Don't talk, 'tis bad for you. If you've got to go, go you must--God pity me without you! But you are all right, such a steadfast man as you. The poor will call you blessed, and your full tale of well-doing will never be told." "Well-meaning, that's all--not well-doing. A dead man's motives don't count, 'tis his deeds we rate him by. He's gone. He can't explain what he meant. Pray for me to live a bit longer, Priscilla. Beg 'em for their prayers at the chapel; beg 'em for their prayers at church. I'm terrible, terrible frighted to go just now, and that's truth. Frighted for those I leave--for those I leave." She calmed him and sought to banish his fears. But he entered upon a phase of mental excitement, deepening to frenzy. He was bathed in sweat and staring fixedly before him when the nurse returned. After noon the man had regained his nerve and found himself ready for the ordeal. A dose of the new drug brought ease and peace. He was astonished and sanguine to feel such comfort. But his voice from the strain of the morning had almost become extinguished. When Priscilla and his children came round him and the family were alone, he bade the woman speak. "Tell them," he said. "I'm not feared to do it, since you wish them to know, but my throat is dumb." Heathman stood at the bottom of the bed and his mother sat beside it. Cora and Phyllis were in chairs by the fire. They looked and saw Mrs. Lintern clasp her hands over Nathan Baskerville's. The act inspired her, and she met the astonished glances of her children.