"Now, Frank, I feel that the mortification in my side is making great
progress, and, in a short time, I shall be in too great pain to talk to
you. I have made a full confession of my crimes; it is all the
reparation I can make to you. Now, can you forgive me? For I shall die
very miserable if you do not. Just look at me. Can you feel resentment
against one in my wretched state? Recollect that you pray to be
forgiven as you forgive others. Give me your answer."
"I think--yes, I feel that I can forgive you, Jackson," replied I. "I
shall soon be left alone on this island, and I am sure I should be much
more miserable than I shall be, if I do not forgive you. I do forgive
you."
"Thanks; you are a good boy, and may God bless you. Is it not nearly
daylight?"
"Yes, it is. I shall soon be able to read the Bible or Prayer-book to
you. I have them both here."
"The pain is too severe, and becomes worse every minute. I shall not be
able to listen to you now; but I shall have some moments of quiet before
I die; and then--"
Jackson groaned heavily, and ceased speaking.
For many hours he appeared to suffer much agony, which he vented in low
groans; the perspiration hung on his forehead in large beads, and his
breathing became laborious. The sun rose and had nearly set again
before Jackson spoke; at last he asked for some drink.
"It is over now," said he, faintly. "The pain is subsiding, and death
is near at hand. You may read to me now; but, first, while I think of
it, let me tell you where you will find your father's property."
"I know," replied I; "in your bed-place under the board. I saw you
remove it when you did not see me."
"True. I have no more to say; it will all be over soon. Read the
burial service over me after I am dead; and now, while still above, read
me what you think I shall like best; for I cannot collect myself
sufficiently to tell you what is most proper. Indeed I hardly know.
But I can pray at times. Read on."