cupboard, he poured out its contents into one of the wine-glasses that
stood upon the table, and coming up to his father with it addressed
him. He knew that these attacks, although they were of a nature to
cause intense pain, did not rob the sufferer of his senses. The old
man, though he lay before him gasping with agony, was quite in a
condition to understand him.

"Listen to me," he said, in a slow, distinct voice. "Just now you said
that you would disinherit me. This medicine will save your life, and
if I let it fall you will die, and there is no more in the house.
Swear before God that you will not carry out your threat, and I will
give it to you. Lift up your hand to show me that you swear."

Silence followed, only broken by the gasps of the dying man.

"If you will not swear, I will pour it out before your eyes."

Again there was silence; but this time the old man made an effort to
rise and ring the bell.

His son threw him roughly back.

"For the last time," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "will you swear?"

A struggle passed over his father's face, now nearly black with pain;
and presently from the distended lips, that did not seem to move,
there burst a single word--destined to echo for ever in his son's
ears--

"_Murderer!_"