terwards. Will you promise?"

"The best way to keep her from being troubled is to tell the truth
yourself."

"Well, I'll do it then, for her. She's a good one."

He was silent again for a minute, resolute not to let even the thoughts
of his good wife, who loved him through all his faults, change his hard
manner to any unusual softness.

In the pause the sound of sleigh bells outside was heard, and through
the window the doctor caught sight of his own little sleigh, with Mr.
Bayne in it, coming up to the door of the house.

"Now, Clarkson," he said, "you see that the best thing for everybody
is, that you should tell the exact truth about that murder. I am not
going to talk to you about the benefit it may be to yourself to make
what amends you can for the wrong you have done, but I can tell you that
Christian has friends who would be glad to see him cleared; and if you
will tell all the truth now, late as it is, I think I may promise that
they will look after your wife and children."

The doctor spoke fast, having made up his mind to deliver this little
speech before they were interrupted. Then he went to the door and opened
it, just in time to admit Mr. Bayne.

When they came together to Clarkson's side, he was lying quite quiet,
considering. His paralysed condition and fast increasing weakness seemed
to keep down all excitement. He was perfectly conscious, but it was a
sort of mechanical consciousness with which emotion of any kind had very
little to do. Mr. Bayne, who did not yet know why he had been sent for,
but thought only of the dying man's claim upon him as a clergyman, spoke
a few friendly words and sat down near the settee.

Clarkson motioned the doctor also to sit down.

"Must I tell _him_?" he said in a low voice.

"You had better. He is a magistrate, you know."

"Yes; all right. Tell him what it is about; will you?"

"Clarkson wants to tell you the exact truth about the murder which took
place here in autumn," the Doctor said. "There is not much time to
lose."

"That's it." And Clarkson began at once. "To begin with, it was not the
Indian at all. He never saw Doctor Morton that I know of, and I am
certain he never saw him alive that day. He happened to be lying asleep
under the bushes, that's all he had to do with it."

"But who did it then?" Mr. Bayne asked.

"Who should do it? He wanted to turn me out of my farm that I had
cleared myself; one day he pretty nearly knocked me down, and ever