they sold spirits secretly," answered the man; "the people who kept it were devils: there it was that I first became one. A woman of the village, a broken-hearted wife, told you of that house: you spoke to your Father, and the trade was put down: my companion heard this from your servants. I was always like a madman when enraged. I swore to be revenged-Thank God thank God, I did not do it!" he added, clasping his hands closely together, while his whole body shook. He stopped speaking, and Susan could not withdraw her eyes from gazing on him. Again his mouth opened, and his eyes glared vacantly. There was something more horrible about his countenance, infinitely more horrible, than the most expressive villany. Wickedness seemed to have worn away, to have blotted out every expression but that of dull blank vacancy; and, though his words were so expressive of his feelings, his face appeared to have lost the powers of expression. There was a dead silence. The man slowly recovered himself, and said to her,

"Can you forgive me now?"

Susan could

scarcely articulate the word "Yes," in a low

voice." Oh," said he wildly, "now you are afraid of me! and no wonder; alone with such a devil. You cannot forgive, you cannot even' speak to me!" "I do forgive you," said Susan instantly; may God forgive you as freely as I forgive you with my whole heart: may God bless you!" "Bless me! can you say so? Yes, I know you can; for it was but the next day after that cursed evening, that I entered the cottage of the woman who betrayed us, she was the wife of my companion, and I heard your voice in the upper chamber, where the woman was lying. I could not hear her speak; but you said to her, "We should even pray for our murderers," and you knelt down, and prayed with that poor creature. Your words pierced to my very heart: I could not have hurt a hair of your head from that moment. I have often thought of you. That woman died, and I went away with her husband, for I was still hardened, and he had been long a villain. We left the corpse unburied in the house, and went away together across the country. Some months afterwards we settled ourselves in London, and there, in

that sink of guilt, I sank deeper and deeper in infamy: but why should I go on with such a horrid tale? It can only shock your pure ears. Young lady, I have gone through—O God of Heaven! what have I not gone through of wickedness! I, a man, with a soul which Jesus Christ died upon the cross to save, a creature born for heaven! Lady, I'm not an ignorant man-I've had learning-I sinned against God with my eyes as open as they are now tears of blood could not weep away my crimes." Susan rose up, and, forgetting for a while her former timidity, exclaimed, "There is one whose blood cleanseth from all sin. Who is the God, in whom the worst sinner may hope, but our God? We

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said the man wildly-he stopped, and leaned his head out from the bed, as he looked round on every side, seeming to fear the presence of any other person-"Come nearer, lady, if I may ask you. Do not yet go away; my heart is lighter, while I speak to you, and see your gentle looks. I never meant to speak of what I now am going to confess to you; you will

hear, and you will then tell me if I may hope. I am known by God just as I am, why should I be so fearful to let you know my heart? This I now feel, that man, and all the shame which I might have to meet among men, is nothing to the thought of God, as I now think of him at last. Blessed be God! I feel this." The poor wretch drew down both his hands on each side, and clenched them in the bedclothes, and, stretching forth his head, said in a whisper, "There was a young girl, I knew her once as meek and innocent as you are-I made her as vile, as wicked, as myself we were never married - she provoked me; and with these horrid hands," he said, hiding them still more under the clothes, as he looked down, "I cut her throat." Susan could hardly drag one foot after the other, as she moved towards the door; she clasped the latch quickly, and clung to it for support with both her trembling hands. She leaned against the wall, and was about to yield to her womanly fears, and rush from the room, when she heard a long heart-broken groan. She turned one look on the murderer. There was now some slight

expression in his countenance, as he sat in the same motionless position, the large heavy tears dropping from his vacant eyes. The heart seemed to have wrung up some of its convulsed agonies into the face, as he clasped his hands together, and cried out, "Thy will be done! It is but just that I should find pity with no one but God. And can I look to thee, O God Almighty, without dreadful fear? Oh for one little light of sweet, heavenly hope!" Susan let go the latch of the door. She forgot all her weakness, and walked steadily to the bed: she stood still, and smiled upon the heart-broken wretch; at least he thought (for he had for the moment forgotten her) that an angel stood before him, and smiled upon him. She stood there without moving, her white garments shining out from the shadowy gloom, her fair hair flowing to her shoulders, and her eyes beaming with the tenderest pity. She knelt down there, and, raising her pure hands towards heaven, prayed aloud as for the life of her own soul. "O blessed Lord, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort," she remembered