Frank soothed him by saying he had heard nothing of consequence, and feeling much interested for the sufferer, who appeared struggling with remorse of conscience for some crime, he sat long by him, endeavoring to point him to the Saviour, who can deliver from all sin. Mr. Fuller listened as if for his life, and muttered two or three times, "If I could only believe it! _If I could but think so!!_" The Doctor prayed with him before he left. When he called Mrs. Fuller to the door, and related to her what he had heard, she burst into tears, and told him that for years past, he had at times said over and over the same words, to which she could attach no meaning; but she clasped her hands in agony, "Oh, dear," she said, "I am afraid he has been guilty of some dreadful crime, and that's what harrows him up so!" "The cause is conscience;--Conscience oft Her tale of guilt renews! Her voice is terrible, though soft, And dread of death ensues." CHAPTER XXX. "For God unfolds, by slow degrees, The purport of his deep decrees; Sheds every hour a clearer light In aid of our defective sight; And spreads, at length, before the soul A beautiful and perfect whole, Which busy man's inventive brain Toils to anticipate in vain." COWPER. _Wednesday, September 4th._ How true is the old adage, "Murder will out." It has certainly been verified in our village. But I will not anticipate. It was hardly light this morning, when the Doctor was summoned from bed to Mr. Fuller, who was dying, and had been calling for Dr. Lenox all night. At length, he became very urgent, and said, he could not die in peace till he had confessed the great sin that troubled his conscience. I waited with no little impatience for Frank's return; but nine o'clock came and there had only been a messenger for Cæsar to drive the buggy to the office. It was long past the usual dinner hour when Frank returned. When he did so, I saw that something very unusual had taken place, for he hardly spoke, but frequently ceased eating, though he had taken no breakfast, and sat resting his head upon his hand. Leaving the dining-room hurriedly, he said, "Cora, will you come to me in the library as soon as possible." I left Pauline with the little ones in the nursery, and followed him directly. He silently beckoned me to a seat near him, when he related as follows the scenes of the morning. "Cora, do you remember the account I gave you years ago, of the setting up of the will of Joseph Lee, before the Probate Court?" "Perfectly," I replied.