e your wish that I should not see your daughter more, I shall try to
tear my heart from her--I shall go and hide myself in obscurity, and
endeavour to forget all I have most loved in this world!"

Mr. Manners raised his hand, as if commanding silence, and gazed
stedfastly on his daughter. The latter looked up to him with tears in
her eyes, and exclaimed--

"I think Mr. Jones is innocent!"

"He _is_ innocent," said the old man, emphatically. "Come to my arms,
both!"

Both moved forward and took the hand he offered, but with amazement
depicted on their countenances.

"Oh, my children!" he said, "I have witnessed such a scene!"

The old man sat down on the sofa, and, for a few moments, covered his
eyes with his hands.

"I have been," he, at length, proceeded, "by the dying bed of the poor
village maiden's murderer--I have heard the fearful confession from his
own lips. O God! may I never behold such another deathbed!"

Jones dropped on his knee, and Miss Manners clasped her hands as in mute
prayer.

"Thank God!" at length exclaimed the latter; "the innocent will no
longer suffer for the guilty!"

"No!" said the old man. "Mr. Jones, you have been deeply wronged."

"Ay," said Jones; "but not by you. From you only have I received
kindness--kindness often better deserved, but never more needed--often,
perhaps, bestowed, but never received with deeper gratitude. While every
door was barred against me, yours was open--while every heart"----

His utterance became choked, and he was altogether unable to proceed.
Mr. Manners shook him warmly by the hand; and, with many expressions of
thankfulness, Jones withdrew, leaving Miss Manners in tears.

On returning homewards, it was obvious that the news of Merrideth's
death, together with its fearful revelations, had spread like wildfire
through the village. How different was Jones' reception!--nods,
recognitions, congratulations, cheers, wherever he passed! Of these,
however, he thought not: he thought only of the girl he had left behind
him weeping. That very night he again repaired to the manse. He went
often; and every succeeding time seemed to be made more welcome.

A pleasant--a delightful change had now taken place in his feelings. The
consciousness of having outlived the slander which had so long sullied
his name, filled his bosom with a sensation of honest pride, and
inspired him with a degree of ease and confidence which he had not
previously experienced. Miss M