"Well, wife, if you do not, I do, for I believe that Dorothy is the daughter of the Earl by Alice Knight. Her age agrees exactly with what would have been the age of that child. The description of the mother bears a strong resemblance to that unfortunate creature, and then her striking likeness to the Earl and his mother is something more than a coincidence. But you have not heard my story to the end.
"Mrs. Knight died some ten years ago. On her death-bed, she confessed to me that she had poisoned Maria in that bowl of gruel; that she believed that the poor vagrant found dead on the heath was Maria's child, for on the night of the storm she had seen her apparition, in a dream, and awoke in a terrible state of mental agony, in the firm conviction that her cruel conduct had been the cause of her grandchild's death.
"The next day she went with a crowd of neighbours to farmer Rushmere's to see the corpse of the poor woman; which though unrecognized by them, she was certain, after making due allowance for her destitute condition, was the body of Alice Knight. As a sort of atonement, for her crimes and barbarous cruelty to this unfortunate creature, she left the large fortune she had accumulated to the child of this vagrant, if it could be satisfactorily proved that it was the daughter of Alice Knight. If after the lapse of thirty years it remained unclaimed, it was to form a fund for the relief of mariners shipwrecked upon this coast."
"Now, Henry, this makes your story as clear to me as daylight," said Mrs. Martin, "can't you prove Dorothy's identity and claim the fortune for her?"
"Ah, my dear wife, there lies the difficulty. Who is there to prove it? It all rests on circumstantial evidence, which, though it can, and has brought many a neck to the gallows, is very insufficient when it relates to claiming fortunes.
"I don't think that it would conduce to Dorothy's happiness, the possession of a large fortune. The girl is much happier as she is. While the money applied to the relief of the destitute seamen would do a great deal of good.
"I had always been haunted by a horrible suspicion," continued the curate, "that Mrs. Knight had murdered Alice. Her confession cleared up that doubt for ever. For though her harsh treatment, I have every reason to think, overwhelmed the poor girl in difficulties that led to her untimely death, it is a satisfaction to know that she did not actually perish by her hand."
"A poor satisfaction, Henry. Did the cruel old woman die penitent?"
"Her end was without hope. An agony of remorse. A presentiment of certain punishment, and no recognition of the Saviour. Rosina, it was an awful death. God is a God of mercy, but if his word is true it was impossible for that soul to be saved. A full conviction of guilt without repentance is the saddest state which a human creature can experience, and such was hers. If we wait patiently, time will bring to light the hidden things of darkness. The crimes committed by her in secret were revealed amid the shadows of the dark valley.
"I cannot repeat the ravings of that unhappy woman. They were too shocking to retain in one's memory; only to think about them, seemed like blasphemy. I never recall that night, when I watched and prayed beside her death-bed, without a shudder, and whispering to myself, But for God's grace I might have been like her. Oh, save me righteous Jesus from the death of the wicked. It is only thou that makest one sinner to differ from another. Without thee, we can indeed do nothing."