has never been known in this
part of England, until he was landed from a frigate in the roads, to be
cured of a serious wound. I think none of Sir Wycherly's allusions have
the least reference to _him_."

Sir Gervaise Oakes now joined his hands behind his back, and walked
several times, quarter-deck fashion, to and fro, in the room. At each
turn, his eyes glanced towards the bed, and he ever found the gaze of
the sick man anxiously fastened on himself. This satisfied him that
religion had nothing to do with his host's manifest desire to make
himself understood; and his own trouble was greatly increased. It seemed
to him, as if the dying man was making incessant appeals to his aid,
without its being in his power to afford it. It was not possible for a
generous man, like Sir Gervaise, to submit to such a feeling without an
effort; and he soon went to the side of the bed, again, determined to
bring the affair to some intelligible issue.

"Do you think, Sir Wycherly, you could write a few lines, if we put pen,
ink, and paper before you?" he asked, as a sort of desperate remedy.

"Impossible--can hardly see; have got no strength--stop--will try--if
you please."

Sir Gervaise was delighted with this, and he immediately directed his
companions to lend their assistance. Atwood and the vicar bolstered the
old man up, and the admiral put the writing materials before him,
substituting a large quarto bible for a desk. Sir Wycherly, after
several abortive attempts, finally got the pen in his hand, and with
great difficulty traced six or seven nearly illegible words, running the
line diagonally across the paper. By this time his powers failed him
altogether, and he sunk back, dropping the pen, and closing his eyes in
a partial insensibility. At this critical instant, the surgeon entered,
and at once put an end to the interview, by taking charge of the
patient, and directing all but one or two necessary attendants, to quit
the room.

The three chosen witnesses of what had just past, repaired together to a
parlour; Atwood, by a sort of mechanical habit, taking with him the
paper on which the baronet had scrawled the words just mentioned. This,
by a sort of mechanical use, also, he put into the hands of Sir
Gervaise, as soon as they entered the room; much as he would have laid
before his superior, an order to sign, or a copy of a letter to the
secretary of the Navy Board.

"This is as bad as the '_nullus_!'" exclaimed Sir Gervais