siness with me, it
is, at all events, of no very pressing kind, and may be as well told
after supper as now. So, pray, go into the house and rest yourself: we
can talk together in the evening."
"My horse is not tired," said the clergyman, patting his steed's neck;
"and if you do not object, I will ride by your side for a short time, and
as we go, I can say out what I have to tell."
"Well, well, be it so," said Marston, with suppressed impatience, and
without more ceremony, he rode slowly along the avenue, and turned off
upon the soft sward in the direction of the wildest portion of his wooded
demesne, the clergyman keeping close beside him. They proceeded some
little way at a walk before Doctor Danvers spoke.
"I have been twice or thrice with that unhappy man," at length he said.
"What unhappy man? Unhappiness is no distinguishing singularity, is it?"
said Marston, sharply.
"No, truly, you have well said," replied Doctor Danvers. "True it is that
man is born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward. I speak, however, of
your servant, Merton--a most unhappy wretch."
"Ha! you have been with him, you say?" replied Marston, with evident
interest and anxiety.
"Yes, several times, and conversed with him long and gravely," continued
the clergyman.
"Humph! I thought that had been the chaplain's business, not yours, my
good friend," observed Marston.
"He has been unwell," replied Dr. Danvers; "and thus, for a day or two,
I took his duty, and this poor man, Merton, having known something of me,
preferred seeing me rather than a stranger; and so, at the chaplain's
desire and his, I continued my visits."
"Well, and you have taught him to pray and sing psalms, I suppose; and
what has come of it all?" demanded Marston, testily.
"He does pray, indeed, poor man! and I trust his prayers are heard with
mercy at the throne of grace," said his companion, in his earnestness
disregarding the sneering tone of his companion. "He is full of
compunction, and admits his guilt."
"Ho! that is well--well for himself--well for his soul, at least; you are
sure of it; he confesses; confesses his guilt?"
Marston put his question so rapidly and excitedly, that the clergyman
looked with a slight expression of surprise; and recovering himself, he
added, in an unconcerned tone--
"Well, well--it was just as well he did so; the evidence is too clear for
doubt or mystification; he knew he had no chance, and has taken the
seemliest
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