ivine Majesty, in
rejecting, as a thing of no value, the life He gave. I yield myself into
His hands, confident that His arm is stretched over His repentant
creature for good; whether I die upon the scaffold or end my days
peacefully in my bed, I can lay my hand upon my heart and say--'His will
be done.'"

For about an hour the good clergyman continued reading and praying with
the prisoner, and before he left him that evening, in spite of his
pre-conceived notions of his guilt, he was fully convinced of innocence.

Sadly and solemnly the hours passed on that brought the morning of his
execution, "with death-bed clearness, face to face." He had joined in
the sacred duties of the Sabbath; it was to him a day of peaceful
rest--a forestate of the quiet solemnity of the grave. In the evening he
was visited by Frederic Wildegrave, who had been too ill after the trial
to leave his bed before. He was pale, and wasted with sorrow and
disease, and looked more like a man going to meet death than the
criminal he came to cheer with his presence.

"My dear Anthony," said Frederic, taking his cousin's hand, "my heart
bleeds to see you thus. I have been sick; my spirit is weighed down with
sorrow, or we should have met sooner."

"You do indeed look ill," replied Anthony, examining, with painful
surprise, the altered face of his friend; "I much fear that I have been
the cause of this change. Tell me, Frederic, and tell me truly, do you
believe me guilty?"

"I have never for one moment entertained a thought to that effect,
Anthony; though the whole world should condemn you, I would stake my
salvation on your integrity."

"Bless you, my friend; my true, faithful, noble-hearted friend," cried
Anthony, clasping the hand he held to his breast, "you are right; I am
not the murderer."

"Who is?"

Anthony shook his head.

"That infernal scoundrel, Mathews?"

"Hush! Not him alone."

"Godfrey?"

"Oh! Frederic; had you seen the triumphant smile that passed over his
face at the moment that my sentence was pronounced, you could entertain
no doubt upon the subject. I heard not the sentence--I saw not the
multitude of eyes fixed upon me--I only saw him--I only saw his eyes
looking into my soul and laughing at the ruin he had wrought. But he
will not go unpunished. There is one who will yet betray him, and prove
my innocence; I mean his hateful accomplice, William Mathews."

"And can nothing be done to convict them?"

"They have swo