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,