"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 course; and, doubtless, the best for his hopes hereafter."