What more than the simple knowledge
of the man's guilt does any mortal desire; guilty, or not guilty, is the
plain question which the law asks, and no more; take my advice, sir, as a
poor Protestant layman, and leave the acts of the confessional and
inquisition to Popish priests." "Nay, Mr. Marston, you greatly misconceive me; as matters stand, there
exists among the coroner's jury, and thus among the public, some faint
and unfounded suspicion of the possibility of Merton's having had an
accessory or accomplice in the perpetration of this foul murder." "It is a lie, sir--a malignant, d----d lie--the jury believe no such
thing, nor the public neither," said Marston, starting in his saddle, and
speaking in a voice of thunder; "you have been crammed with lies, sir;
malicious, unmeaning, vindictive lies; lies invented to asperse my
family, and torture my feelings; suggested in my presence by that
scoundrel Mervyn, and scouted by the common sense of the jury." "I do assure you," replied Doctor Danvers, in a voice which seemed
scarcely audible, after the stunning and passionate explosion of
Marston's wrath, "I did not imagine that you could feel thus sorely upon
the point; nay, I thought that you yourself were not without such
painful doubts." "Again, I tell you, sir," said Marston, in a tone somewhat calmer, but no
less stern, "such doubts as you describe have no existence; your
unsuspecting ear has been alarmed by a vindictive wretch, an old
scoundrel who has scarce a passion left but spite towards me; few such
there are, thank God; few such villains as would, from a man's very
calamities, distil poison to kill the peace and character of his family." "I am sorry, Mr. Marston," said the clergyman, "you have formed so ill an
opinion of a neighbor, and I am very sure that Mr. Mervyn meant you no
ill in frankly expressing whatever doubts still rested on his mind, after
the evidence was taken." "He did--the scoundrel!" said Marston, furiously striking his hand, in
which his whip was clutched, upon his thigh; "he did mean to wound and
torture me; and with the same object he persists in circulating what he
calls his doubts. Meant me no ill, forsooth! why, my great God, sir,
could any man be so stupid as not to perceive that the suggestion of such
suspicions--absurd, contradictory, incredible as they were--was
precisely the thing to exasperate feelings sufficiently troubled
already, and not content with raising the question, where it was scouted,
as I said, as soon as named, the vindictive slanderer proceeds to
propagate and publish his pretended surmises--d----n him." "Mr. Marston, you will pardon me when I say that, as a Christian
minister, I cannot suffer a spirit so ill as that you manifest, and
language so unseemly as that you have just uttered, to pass unreproved,"
said Danvers, solemnly. "If you will cherish those bitter and unchristian
feelings, at least for the brief space that I am with you, command your
fierce, unbecoming words." Marston was about to make a sneering retort, but restrained himself, and
turned his head away. "The wretched man himself appears now very anxious to make some further
disclosures," resumed Doctor Danvers, after a pause, "and I recommended
him to make them to you, Mr. Marston, as the most natural depository of
such a statement." "Well, Mr. Danvers, to cut the matter short, as it appears that a
confession of some sort is to be made, be it so. I will attend and
receive it. The judges will not be here for eight or ten weeks to come,
so there is no great hurry about it. I shall ride down to the town, and
see him in the jail some time in the next week." With this assurance Marston parted from the old clergyman, and rode on
alone through the furze and fern of his wild and somber park. After supper that evening Marston found himself alone in the parlor with
his wife. Mrs. Marston availed herself of the opportunity to redeem her
pledge to Mademoiselle de Barras. She was not aware of the strange
interview which had taken place between him and the lady for whom she
pleaded. The result of her renewed entreaties perhaps the reader has
anticipated. Marston listened, doubted, listened, hesitated again, put
questions, pondered the answers; debated the matter inwardly, and at last
gruffly consented to give the young lady another trial, and permit her to
remain some time longer. Poor Mrs. Marston, little suspecting the
dreadful future, overwhelmed her husband with gratitude for granting to
her entreaties (as he had predetermined to do) this fatal boon. Not
caring to protract this scene--either from a disinclination to listen to
expressions of affection, which had long lost their charm for him, and
had become even positively distasteful, or perhaps from some instinctive
recoil from the warm expression of gratitude from lips which, were the
truth revealed, might justly have trembled with execration and
reproach--he abruptly left the room, and Mrs. Marston, full of her good
news, hastened, in the kindness of her heart, to communicate the fancied
result of her advocacy to Mademoiselle de Barras. It was about a week after this, that Marston was one evening surprised in
his study by the receipt of the following letter from Dr. Danvers:--

"My Dear Sir,

"You will be shocked to hear that Merton is most dangerously ill, and at
this moment in imminent peril. He is thoroughly conscious of his
situation, and himself regards it as a merciful interposition of
Providence to spare him the disgrace and terror of the dreadful fate,
which he anticipated. The unhappy man has twice repeated his anxious
desire, this day, to state some facts connected with the murder of the
late Sir Wynston Berkley, which, he says, it is of the utmost moment that
you should hear. He says that he could not leave the world in peace
without having made this disclosure, which he especially desires to make
to yourself, and entreats that you will come to receive his
communication as early as you can in the morning. This is indeed needful,
as the physician says that he is fast sinking. I offer no apology for
adding my earnest solicitations to those or the dying man; and am, dear
sir, your very obedient servant,

"J. Danvers"

"He regards it as a merciful interposition of Providence," muttered
Marston, as he closed the letter, with a sneer. "Well, some men have odd
notions of mercy and providence, to be sure; but if it pleases him,
certainly I shall not complain for one." Marston was all this evening in better spirits than he had enjoyed for
months, or even years. A mountain seemed to have been lifted from his
heart. He joined in the conversation during and after supper, listened
with apparent interest, talked with animation, and even laughed and
jested. It is needless to say all this flowed not from the healthy cheer
of a heart at ease, but from the excited and almost feverish sense of
sudden relief.