Gabriel almost
trembled at himself when he found that he breathed more freely,
that he felt less horribly oppressed both in mind and body, the
moment his father's back was turned. Fearful as thought was now,
it was still a change for the better to be capable of thinking at
all. Was the behavior of his father compatible with innocence?
Could the old man's confused denial of his own words in the
morning, and in the presence of his son, be set for one instant
against the circumstantial confession that he had made during the
night alone with his grandson? These were the terrible questions
which Gabriel now asked himself, and which he shrank
involuntarily from answering. And yet that doubt, the solution of
which would, one way or the other, irrevocably affect the whole
future of his life, must sooner or later be solved at any hazard!
Was there any way of setting it at rest? Yes, one way--to go
instantly, while his father was absent, and examine the hollow
place under the Merchant's Table. If his grandfather's confession
had really been made while he was in possession of his senses,
this place (which Gabriel knew to be covered in from wind and
weather) had never been visited since the commission of the crime
by the perpetrator, or by his unwilling accomplice; though time
had destroyed all besides, the hair and the bones of the victim
would still be left to bear witness to the truth--if truth had
indeed been spoken.
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