e."

"Spicer, you know best how your life was passed from that time until you
came into the hospital; but it was to be hoped that when laid up to rest
in this haven, after such a stormy life, you would have amended your
life; but what have you done?"

"And what have I done?"

"What would have brought you to the gallows if I had not held my tongue.
You attempted to murder the old woman to obtain her money, and, in
escaping, you received the wound which soon will bring you to your
grave."

"What proofs?"

"Every proof: your stump struck me in the face when you rushed out--the
button was off your coat the next morning when I met you--I had every
proof, and, had I chosen, would have sworn on the Bible to your having
been the party."

"Well, I'll not deny it--why should I, when I cannot be taken out of
this bed to be tried, even if you wished? Have you more to say?"

"Yes, more."

"I doubt it."

"Then hear me. The poor woman whom you would have murdered, whom I found
at her last gasp, and with difficulty restored to consciousness, that
poor woman, Spicer, is _your own mother!_"

"God of heaven!" exclaimed he, covering his face.

"Yes, Spicer, your fond, indulgent mother, who thinks that you suffered
the penalty of the law many years ago, and whose energies have been
crushed by the supposed unhappy fate of her still loved and lamented
son. Spicer, this is all true, and have you now nothing to repent of?"

"I thought her dead, long dead. God, I thank Thee that I did not the
deed; and, Jack, I am really grateful to you for having prevented it.
Poor old woman!--yes, she did love me, and how cruelly I treated
her!--and she is then still alive, and thinks that I was hanged--yes, I
recollect now, she must think so. Oh! my brain, my brain!"

"Spicer, I must leave you now."

"Don't leave me, Jack--yes, do--come to-morrow morning."

"Spicer, will you do me a favor?"

"Yes."

"Will you see Anderson, and talk with him?"

"Yes, if you wish it; but not now. This evening I will, if he'll come."

I left Spicer, well satisfied with what had passed, and hastened to
Anderson, to communicate it to him.

"A strange and providential discovery, Tom, indeed," said he, "and good
use it appears to me you have made of it. His heart is softened, that is
evident. I will certainly go to him this evening."

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Spicer discloses strange Matters.

The next day, when I called to see Spicer, I found