And I succeeded. After an effort that brought the sweat out on his brow, he turned his look on mine, and, gathering strength from my expression, probably, gave me one eager and appealing glance, and thrust his left hand under his pillow. His wife, who saw every thing, leaned forward with an uneasy gesture. "What have you there?" she asked. But he had already drawn forth a little book and placed it in my hand. "Only my old prayer-book," he faltered. "I felt as if I should like Mr. Barrows to have it." She gave him an incredulous stare, and allowed her glance to follow the book. I immediately put it in my pocket. "I shall take a great deal of pleasure in possessing it," I remarked. "Read it," he murmured; "read it carefully." And a tone of relief was in his voice that seemed to alarm her greatly; for she half rose to her feet and made a gesture to some one I did not see, after which she bent again towards the dying man and whispered in his ear. But, though her manner had all its wonted force, and her words, whatever they were, were lacking in neither earnestness nor purpose, he did not seem to be affected by them. For the first time in his life, perhaps, he rose superior to that insidious influence, and, nerved by the near approach of death, kept his gaze fixed on mine, and finally stammered: "Will you do some thing else for me?" "I will," I began, and might have said more, but he turned from me and with sudden energy addressed his wife. "Margaret," said he, "bring me my desk." Had a thunderbolt fallen at her feet, she could not have looked more astonished. I myself was somewhat surprised; I had never heard that tone from him before. "My desk!" he cried again; "I want it here." At this repetition of his request, uttered this time with all the vehemence of despair. Mrs. Pollard moved, though she did not rise. At the same moment a quick, soft step was heard, and through the gloom of the now rapidly darkening chamber I saw their younger son draw near and take his stand at the foot of the bed. "I have but a few minutes," murmured the sick man. "Will you refuse to make them comfortable, Margaret?" "No, no," she answered hastily, guided as I could not but see by an almost imperceptible movement of her son's hand; and rising with a great show of compliance, she proceeded to the other end of the room. I at once took her place by the side of his pillow. "Is there no word of comfort I can give you?" said I, anxious for the soul thus tortured by earthly anxieties on the very brink of the grave. But his mind, filled with one thought, refused to entertain any other. "Pray God that my strength hold out," he whispered. "I have an act of reparation to make." Then, as his son made a move as if to advance, he caught my hand in his, and drew my ear down to his mouth. "The book," he gasped; "keep it safely--they may try to take it away--don't--"