"There," said he, holding it before my eyes, "there is the name on the
handle that you read for the first time,--'Samuel Wickham,'--and you can
imagine my feelings when I tell you that that was the name of my
great-grandfather. When you told me that Deacon Thompson had a record of
this long past tragedy you doubtless remember the intense eagerness with
which I hastened to find him.
"In the diary was distinctly recorded the burning of the house, March 4,
1795. If Samuel Wickham was guilty of the crime it was utterly
impossible that he should have been out of England at that time. From
that moment my cherished belief became a settled conviction. My means
were limited, but I resolved to visit England at once, and, if possible,
substantiate the evidence found so unexpectedly under these elms; not
that I expected to obtain reversal of a sentence pronounced in a court
of law over eighty years ago, but Cecelia Crabshaw should know that my
blood was not tainted by an ancestor's crime. I can assure you that I
thought much more than I slept that night.
"The next day, as you know, I went back to Boston, and a month later was
in England. I went directly to S----, and there found the old mansion,
once the rightful property of my great-grandfather.
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