God pity them, I say, too!" The situation of this much tried family, was, indeed, on the night in question, pitiable in the extreme.

It is true, they had now recovered, or nearly so, the full enjoyment of their health, and were--owing, as we have already said, to the bounty of some unknown friend--in circumstances of considerable comfort.

Dalton's confession of the murder had taken away from them every principle upon which they could rely, with one only exception.

Until the moment of that confession, they had never absolutely been in possession of the secret cause of his remorse--although, it must be admitted, that, on some occasions, the strength of his language and the melancholy depth of his sorrow, filled them with something like suspicion.

Still such they knew to be the natural affection and tenderness of his heart, his benevolence and generosity, in spite of his occasional bursts of passion, that they could not reconcile to themselves the notion that he had ever murdered a fellow creature.