furtherdisclosures," resumed Doctor Danvers, after a pause, "and I recommendedhim to make them to you, Mr. Marston, as the most natural depository ofsuch a statement."
"Well, Mr. Danvers, to cut the matter short, as it appears that aconfession of some sort is to be made, be it so. I will attend andreceive 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, andsee him in the jail some time in the next week."
With this assurance Marston parted from the old clergyman, and rode onalone through the furze and fern of his wild and somber park.
After supper that evening Marston found himself alone in the parlor withhis wife. Mrs. Marston availed herself of the opportunity to redeem herpledge to Mademoiselle de Barras. She was not aware of the strangeinterview which had taken place between him and the lady for whom shepleaded. The result of her renewed entreaties perhaps the reader hasanticipated. Marston listened, doubted, listened, hesitated again, putquestions, pondered the answers; debated the matter inwardly, and at lastgruffly consented to give the young lady another trial, and permit her toremain some time longer. Poor Mrs. Marston, little suspecting thedreadful future, overwhelmed her husband with gratitude for granting toher entreaties (as he had predetermined to do) this fatal boon. Notcaring to protract this scene--either from a disinclination to listen toexpressions of affection, which had long lost their charm for him, andhad become even positively distasteful, or perhaps from some instinctiverecoil from the warm expression of gratitude from lips which, were thetruth revealed, might justly have trembled with execration andreproach--he abruptly left the room, and Mrs. Marston, full of her goodnews, hastened, in the kindness of her heart, to communicate the fanciedresult of her advocacy to Mademoiselle de Barras.
It was about a week after this, that Marston was one evening surprised inhis 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 atthis moment in imminent peril. He is thoroughly conscious of hissituation, and himself regards it as a merciful interposition ofProvidence to spare him the disgrace and terror of the dreadful fate,which he anticipated. The unhappy man has twice repeated his anxiousdesire, this day, to state some facts connected with the murder of thelate Sir Wynston Berkley, which, he says, it is of the utmost moment thatyou should hear. He says that he could not leave the world in peacewithout having made this disclosure, which he especially desires to maketo yourself, and entreats that you will come to receive hiscommunication 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 foradding my earnest solicitations to those or the dying man; and am, dearsir, your very obedient servant,
"J. Danvers"
"He regards it as a merciful interposition of Providence," mutteredMarston, as he closed the letter, with a sneer. "Well, some men have oddnotions 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 formonths, or even years. A mountain seemed to have been lifted from hisheart. He joined in the conversation during and after supper, listenedwith apparent interest, talked with animation, and even laughed andjested. It is needless to say all this flowed not from the healthy cheerof a heart at ease, but from the excited and almost feverish sense ofsudden relief.
Next morning, Marston rode into the old-fashioned town, at the furtherend of which the dingy and grated front of the jail looked warningly outupon the rustic passengers. He passed the sentries and made his inquiriesof the official at the hatch. He was relieved from the necessity ofpushing these into detail, however, by the appearance of the physician,who at that moment passed from the interior of the prison.
"Dr. Danvers told me he expected to see you here this morning," said themedical man, after the customary salutation had been interchanged. "Yourcall, I believe, is connected with the prisoner, John Merton?"
"Yes, sir, so it is," said Marston. "Is he in a condition, pray, to makea statement of considerable length?"
"Far from it, Mr. Marston; he has but a few hours to live," answered thephysician, "and is now insensible; but I believe he last night saw Dr.Danvers, and told him whatever was weighing upon his mind."
"Ha!--And can you say where Dr. Danvers now is?" inquired Marston,anxiously and hurriedly. "Not here, is he?"
"No; but I saw him, as I came here, not ten minutes since, ride into thetown. It is market-day, and you will probably find him somewhere in thehigh street for an hour or two to come," answered he.
Marston thanked him, and, lost in abstraction, rode down to the littleinn, entered a sitting room, and wrote a hurried line to Dr. Danvers,entreating his attendance there, as a place where they might converseless interruptedly than in the street; and committing this note to thewaiter, with the injunction to deliver it at once, and an intimation ofwhere Dr. Danvers was probably to be found, he awaited, with intense andagitating anxiety, the arrival of the clergyman.
It was not for nearly ten minutes, however, which his impatiencemagnified into an eternity, that the well-known voice of Dr. Danversreached him from the little hall. It was in vain that Marston strove tocurb his violent agitation: his heart swelled as if it would smother him;he felt, as it were, the chill of death pervade his frame, and he couldscarcely see the door through which he momentarily expected the entranceof the clergyman.
A few minutes more, and Dr. Danvers entered the little apartment.
"My dear sir," said he, gravely and earnestly, as he grasped the coldhand of Marston, "I am rejoiced to see you. I have matters of greatmoment and the strangest mystery to lay before you."
"I dare say--I was sure--that is, I suspected so much," answeredMarston, breathing fast, and looking very pale. "I heard at the prisonthat the murderer, Merton, was fast dying, and now is in an unconsciousstate; and from the physician, that you had seen him, at his urgententreaty, last night. My mind misgives me, sir, I fear I know not what. Ilong, yet dread, to hear the wretched man's confession. For God's saketell me, does it implicate anybody else in the guilt?"
"No; no one specifically; but it has thrown a hideous additional mysteryover the occurrence. Listen to me, my dear sir, and the whole narrative,as he stated it to me, shall be related now to you," said Dr. Danvers.
Marston had closed the door carefully, and they sate down together at thefurther end of the apartment. Marston, breathless and ghastly pale; hislips compressed--his brows knit--and his dark, dilated gaze fixedimmovably upon the speaker. Dr. Danvers, on the other hand, tranquil andsolemn, and with, perhaps, some shade of awe overcasting the habitualsweetness of his countenance.
"His confession was a strange one," renewed Dr. Danvers, shaking his headgravely. "He said that the first idea of the crime was suggested by SirWynston's man accidentally mentioning, a few days after their arrival,that his master slept with his bank-notes, to the amount of some hundredsof pounds, in a pocketbook under his pillow. He declared that as the manmentioned this circumstance, something muttered the infernal suggestionin his ear, and from that moment he was the slave of that one idea; itwas ever present with him. He contended against it in vain; he dreadedand abhorred it; but still it possessed him; he felt his power ofresistance yielding. This horrible stranger which had stolen into hisheart, waxed in power and importunity, and tormented him day and night.He resolved to fly from the house. He gave notice to you and Mrs.Marston of his intended departure; but accident protracted his stay untilthat fatal night which sealed his doom. The influence which had masteredhim forced him to rise from his bed, and take the knife--the discovery ofwhich afterwards helped to convict him--and led him to Sir Wynston'schamber; he entered; it was a moonlight night."
Here the clergyman, glancing round the room, lowered his voice, andadvanced his lips so near to Marston, that their heads nearly touched. Inthis tone and attitude he continued his narrative for a few minutes.
Atthe end of this brief space, Marston rose up slowly, and with a movementbackward, every feature strung with horror, and saying, in a longwhisper, the one word, "yes," which seemed like the hiss of a snakebefore he makes his last deadly spring. Both were silent for a time. Atlast Marston broke out with hoarse vehemence.
"Dreadful--horrible--oh, God! God!--My God! How frightful!"
And throwing himself into a chair, he clasped his hands across hiseyes and forehead, while the sweat of agony literally poured down hispale face.
"Truly it is so," said the clergyman, scarcely above his breath; and,after a long interval--"horrible indeed!"
"Well," said Marston, rising suddenly to his feet, wiping the dews ofhorror from his face, and looking wildly round, like one newly awoke froma nightmare,
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