to
harness up Jerry and drive straight away into Werrina, with the two
letters that I left on the cuddy table. One is for the doctor
there--deliver that first--and the other is for a Roman Catholic priest,
Father O'Malley; deliver that next. It is important, and must not be
lost, for there's money in it. I wish it were more--I wish it were.
Bring them here now, Nick.'

I brought the letters, and they were placed under a weight on the
little shelf over my father's head.

'Don't forget what I said, Nick; and do it--exactly, old fellow. And
now, let us forget all about it. That gruel, or whatever it was you
gave me just now, has made me feel so comfortable that I'm going to
have a beautiful sleep, and wake up as fit as a fiddle to-morrow. Give
me your hand, boy. There--good-night! God bless you!'

He turned on his shoulder, perhaps to avoid seeing my tears, and
again, perhaps, I have thought, to avoid my seeing the coming of tears
in his own eyes. He had kissed my forehead, and I could not remember
ever being kissed by him before. For, as long as my memory carried me,
our habit had been to shake hands, like two men....

I find an unexpected difficulty in setting down the details of an
experience which, upon the whole, produced a deeper impression on me,
I think, than any other event in my life. When all is said, can any
useful purpose be served by observing at this stage of my task a
particularity which would be exceedingly depressing to me? I think
not. There is assuredly no need for me, of all people, to court
melancholy. I think that, without great fullness at this point in my
record, I can gauge pretty accurately the value as a factor in my
growth of this particular experience, and so I will be very brief.

On the fifth evening after that of the attack which left him
unconscious on the saloon deck, my father died, very peacefully, and,
I believe, quite painlessly. He spoke to me, and with a smile, only a
few minutes before he drew his last breath.

'I'm going, Nick--going--to rest, boy. Don't cry, Nick. Best son....
God bless....'

Those were the last words he spoke. For two hours or more before that
time, he had lain with eyes closed, breathing lightly, perhaps asleep,
certainly unconscious. Now he was dead. I was under no sort of
illusion about that. Something which had been hanging cold as ice over
my heart all day had fallen now, like an axe-blade, and split my heart
in twain. So I felt. There was the gent