The party were assembled at supper.  What a contrast did this cheerful, happy—­unutterably happy—­gathering, present, in the mind of Rhoda, to the dull, drear, fearful evenings which she had long been wont to pass at Gray Forest.

As they sate together in cheerful and happy intercourse, a chaise drove up to the hall-door, and the knocking had hardly ceased to reverberate, when a well-known voice was heard in the hall.

Young Mervyn started to his feet, and merrily ejaculating, “Charles Marston! this is delightful!” disappeared, and in an instant returned with Charles himself.

We pass over all the embraces of brother and sister; the tears and smiles of re-united affection.  We omit the cordial shaking of hands; the kind looks; the questions and answers; all these, and all the little attentions of that good old-fashioned hospitality, which was never weary of demonstrating the cordiality of its welcome, we abandon to the imagination of the good-natured reader.

Charles Marston, with the advice of his friend, Mr. Mervyn, resolved to lose no time in proceeding to Chester, whither it was ascertained his father had gone, with the declared intention of meeting and accompanying him home.  He arrived in that town in the evening; and having previously learned that Doctor Danvers had been for some time in Chester, he at once sought him at his usual lodgings, and found the worthy old gentleman at his solitary “dish” of tea.

“My dear Charles,” said he, greeting his young friend with earnest warmth, “I am rejoiced beyond measure to see you.  Your father is in town, as you supposed; and I have just had a note from him, which has, I confess, not a little agitated me, referring, as it does, to a subject of painful and horrible interest; one with which, I suppose, you are familiar, but upon which I myself have never yet spoken fully to any person, excepting your father only.”

“And pray, my dear sir, what is this topic?” inquired Charles, with marked interest.

“Read this note,” answered the clergyman, placing one at the same time in his young visitor’s hand.

Charles read as follows: 

“My Dear Sir,

“I have a singular communication to make to you, but in the strictest privacy, with reference to a subject which, merely to name, is to awaken feelings of doubt and horror; I mean the confession of Merton, with respect to the murder of Wynston Berkley.  I will call upon you this evening after dark; for I have certain reasons for not caring to meet old acquaintances about town; and if you can afford me half an hour, I promise to complete my intended disclosure within that time.  Let us be strictly private; this is my only proviso.

“Yours with much respect,

“Richard Marston”