Marston, as he closed the letter, with a sneer. "Well, some men have odd
notions 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 for
months, or even years. A mountain seemed to have been lifted from his
heart. He joined in the conversation during and after supper, listened
with apparent interest, talked with animation, and even laughed and
jested. It is needless to say all this flowed not from the healthy cheer
of a heart at ease, but from the excited and almost feverish sense of
sudden relief.

Next morning, Marston rode into the old-fashioned town, at the further
end of which the dingy and grated front of the jail looked warningly out
upon the rustic passengers. He passed the sentries and made his inquiries
of the official at the hatch. He was relieved from the necessity of
pushing 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 the
medical man, after the customary salutation had been interchanged. "Your
call, I believe, is connected with the prisoner, John Merton?"

"Yes, sir, so it is," said Marston. "Is he in a condition, pray, to make
a statement of considerable length?"

"Far from it, Mr. Marston; he has but a few hours to live," answered the
physician, "and is now insensible; but I believe he last night saw Dr.
Danvers, and told him whatever was weighing upon his mind."