“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 Manners was scarcely less gratified by the mystery having been at length cleared up, and the public mind disabused. From her first interview with Jones, she had entertained a strong impression of his innocence; and the fact of her good opinion of him being confirmed, she regarded with feelings almost of triumph. Accordingly, their meetings were mutually delightful. If, at any time, the latter doubted the propriety of encouraging his visits, the reflection that she had done right, in the first instance, in following the dictates of her heart, caused her to continue in the same course. The truth is, she pitied Jones; and pity, it is well known, is akin to a still tenderer emotion.