Dimsdale. Never was a girl left more lonely and unprotected. Take her, I beg of you, and bring her up under your own eye. Treat her as though she were your child. Guard her above all from those who would wreck her young life in order to share her fortune. Do this, old friend, and make me happy on my deathbed."
The merchant made no answer. His heavy eyebrows were drawn down, and his forehead all puckered with thought.
"You are the one man," continued the sufferer, "whom I know to be just and upright. Give me the water, for my mouth is dry. Should, which God forbid, my dear girl perish before she marries, then" His breath failed him for a moment, and he paused to recover it.
"Well, what then?"
"Then, old friend, her fortune reverts to you, for there is none who will use it so well. Those are the terms of the will. But you will guard her and care for her, as I would myself. She is a tender plant, John, too weak to grow alone. Promise me that you will do right by her—promise it?"
"I do promise it," John Girdlestone answered in a deep voice. He was standing up now, and leaning over to catch the words of the dying man.
Harston was sinking rapidly. With a feeble motion he pointed to a brown-backed volume upon the table.
"Take up the book," he said.
The merchant picked it up.
"Now, repeat after me, I swear and solemnly pledge myself"
"I swear and solemnly pledge myself"
"To treasure and guard as if she were my own" came the tremulous voice from the bed.
"To treasure and guard as if she were my own" in the deep bass of the merchant.
"Kate Harston, the daughter of my deceased friend"
"Kate Harston, the daughter of my deceased friend"
"And as I treat her, so may my own flesh and blood treat me!"
