"So I heard from the gallant Highlander who came with you. But thingshave changed now. Since you have become Sir Conway Rawcliffe----"
"What mean you, Markland?"
"Conway was the name of the infant heir who was stolen--he was socalled after his mother, the beautiful Henrietta Conway."
"For the present I must remain Captain Legh," interrupted the youngman. "Nor would I have a word breathed on the subject to yourfellow-servants till I have spoken with Sir Richard. You understand?"
"Perfectly," replied the old butler. "You may rely on my discretion."
But though Markland was forbidden to give the young baronet his propertitle, he could not be prevented from showing him the profoundestrespect, and it was with great reverence that he conducted him to thedining-room, where they found Sergeant Dickson seated at a table witha cold sirloin of beef before him, flanked by a tankard of strong ale.
Atherton--as we shall still continue to call our hero--desired thesergeant not to disturb himself, but declined to follow his example,though urged by Markland to try a little cold beef.
The butler, however, would not be denied, but disappearing for aminute or two returned with a cobwebbed flask, which he uncorked, andthen filling a big glass to the brim, handed it to the young gentlemanwith these words:
"This madeira was bottled some five-and-twenty years ago in the timeof the former owner of this mansion, Sir Oswald Rawcliffe. I pray youtaste it, Sir---- I beg pardon," he added, hastily correctinghimself--"I mean Captain Legh."
As Atherton placed the goblet to his lips, but did not half empty it,the butler whispered in his ear, while handing him a biscuit, "'Tisyour father's wine."
Atherton gave him a look and emptied the glass.
Another bumper was then filled for Sergeant Dickson, who smacked hislips, but declared that for his part he preferred usquebaugh.
"Usquebaugh!" exclaimed Markland, contemptuously. "Good wine is thrownaway upon you, I perceive, sergeant. Nothing better was ever drunkthan this madeira. Let me prevail upon you to try it again,Sir--Captain, I mean."
But as Atherton declined, he set down the bottle beside him, and leftthe room.
Full half an hour elapsed before he reappeared, and then his looks soalarmed those who beheld him, that they both started to their feet.
"What is the matter?" cried Atherton, struck by a foreboding of ill."Nothing, I trust, has happened to Sir Richard?"
"I don't know--I hope not," cried the terrified butler. "I went intothe library just now to see if his honour wanted anything. To mysurprise he was not there, though I had been in the entrance-hall, andhadn't seem him go out. On the writing-table was a packet, thatsomehow attracted my attention, and I stepped forward to look at it.It was sealed with black wax, and addressed to Sir Conway Rawcliffe,Baronet."
Atherton uttered an exclamation of astonishment, and his forebodingsof ill grew stronger.
"The sight of this mysterious packet filled me with uneasiness,"pursued the butler. "I laid it down, and was considering what hadbecome of Sir Richard, when I remarked that a secret door in one ofthe bookcases, of which I was previously ignorant, was standing open.Impelled by a feeling stronger than curiosity, I passed through it,and had reached the foot of a small staircase, when I heard the reportof a pistol, almost immediately succeeded by a heavy fall. I guessedwhat had happened; but not liking to go up-stairs alone, I hurriedback as fast as I could, and came to you."
"However disinclined you may feel, you must go with me, Markland,"said Atherton. "I know where we shall find Sir Richard. You must alsocome with us, sergeant. Not a moment must be lost."
Full of the direst apprehensions they set off. As they entered thelibrary Atherton perceived the packet, which he knew contained theunhappy man's confession, lying on the writing-table, but he did notstop to take it up.
Dashing through the secret door he threaded the passage, and ascendedthe narrow staircase, three steps at a time, followed by the others.
The door of the antechamber was shut, and he feared it might belocked, but it yielded instantly to his touch.
The room was empty; but it was evident that the dreadful catastrophehe anticipated had taken place in the inner room, since a dark streamof blood could be seen trickling beneath the door, which was standingajar.
Atherton endeavoured to push it open, but encountering someresistance, was obliged to use a slight degree of force to accomplishhis object, and he then went in, closely followed by the others.
A dreadful spectacle met their gaze. Stretched upon the floor amid apool of blood, with a pistol grasped in his hand, showing how the deedhad been done, lay Sir Richard.
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He had shot himself through the heart, so that his death must havebeen almost instantaneous.
The sight would have been ghastly enough under any circumstances;but beheld in that chamber, so full of fearful associations,it acquired additional horror. The group gathered round thebody--the young baronet in his military attire--the Highlanderin his accoutrements--and the old butler--formed a strikingpicture. That the guilty man should die there seemed like thework of retribution.
As the nephew he had so deeply injured, and deprived of hisinheritance, looked down upon his dark and stern visage, nowstilled in death, he could not but pity him.
"May Heaven forgive him, as I forgive him!" he ejaculated.
"If he has sinned deeply his penitence has been sincere," saidMarkland, sorrowfully. "Half his time has been spent in fastingand prayer. Heaven have mercy on his sinful soul!"
"It seems to me as if he had something clutched in his left hand,"remarked the sergeant.
"I think so, too," said Atherton. "See what it is."
Thereupon, Erick knelt down beside the body, and opening the fingers,which were not yet stiffened, took from them a small slip of paper,and gave it to Atherton.
It had been crushed in the death gripe, but on being unfolded, thesewarning words appeared:
"'Tis given to those on the point of death to see into the future,and I read danger and destruction in the expedition you have joined.Be warned by your unhappy uncle, and abandon it."
"Whatever may be the consequence, I cannot abandon the expedition,"thought Atherton.
While forming this resolution, he gazed at his lifeless monitor, andit seemed to him as if a frown passed over the dead man's countenance.
CHAPTER XXXI.
SIR RICHARD RAWCLIFFE'S CONFESSION.
After considering what ought to be done under circumstances so painfuland extraordinary, Atherton left Sergeant Dickson with the body, andthen descending with Markland to the hall, ordered him to assemble thewhole house without delay, and acquaint them with the dreadfulcatastrophe that had occurred.
Thereupon, Markland rang the alarm bell, and the summons was immediatelyanswered by all the male part of the household, and several women, whohurried to the entrance-hall to see what was the matter.
In reply to their anxious inquiries, the butler told them what hadhappened, and the appalling intelligence was received with expressionsof horror by the men, and by shrieks from the women--some of the latterseeming ready to faint.
Bidding all follow him who chose, Markland then led three or fourstout-hearted men to the room where the dire event had occurred.
They found Sergeant Dickson watching beside the body, and, afterregarding it for a few moments with fearful curiosity, they raised itfrom the floor, and placed it upon the bed.
This done, they all quitted the chamber of death, and the door waslocked.
Markland, however, deemed it necessary to leave a man in the ante-room,and, having taken this precaution, he descended with the others to thelower part of the house.
The sergeant then proceeded to the library to ascertain whether CaptainLegh had made any change in his plans.
"No," replied Atherton, "I must return to Manchester to-night, in orderto explain matters to the prince. If his royal highness can dispense
with my services, I shall retire from the Manchester Regiment. If not,I must go on. That is my fixed determination."
"'Tis the resolve of a man of honour," replied the sergeant.
"I have to read through this paper, and besides, I have some directionsto give," said Atherton. "But I shall start in an hour."
"Good," replied Erick. "I shall be quite ready."
And fancying Captain Legh desired to be alone, he left the room.
Shortly afterwards Markland appeared with lights, which he placed onthe writing-table.
"I am very sorry to find you are resolved to go, sir," he remarked.
"If the prince can spare me I shall return at once."
"Our chance of seeing you again is but slight, sir," rejoined thebutler, shaking his head. "The prince is not likely to part with you.Shall Sir Richard's groom, Holden, attend you? Should you have anymessage to send to me, he will bring it back."
"Yes, I will take him with me," replied Atherton. "Perhaps MissRawcliffe may require him."
"You have eaten nothing, sir."
"I have no appetite. But let a slight repast be prepared for me in halfan hour."
The butler bowed and left the room.
As yet Atherton had only read certain portions of his unhappy uncle'sconfession; but he now unfolded the manuscript with the intention ofcarefully perusing it.
The narration, written in a firm, bold hand, ran as follows.
* * * * *
In the name of the Almighty Power whom I have so deeply offended, and before whose throne I shall presently appear to answer for my manifold offences, I hereby solemnly declare that the young man now known as Atherton Legh is no other than my nephew Conway, only son of my brother Sir Oswald Rawcliffe, whom I have wickedly kept out of his inheritance for twenty years, by carrying him off when an infant, as I shall proceed to relate.
All possible reparation for the great wrong done him shall be made to my nephew. I hereby restore him all the estates and property of which he has so long been deprived, and I implore his forgiveness.
Let it not be imagined that the possession of the property and title has brought me happiness! Since I have committed this terrible crime, peace has been a stranger to my breast. My slumbers have been disturbed by fearful dreams, and when sleep has fled from my pillow my brother's angry shade has appeared before me, menacing me with eternal bale for the wrong done to his son.
Sometimes another phantom has appeared--the shade of the sweet lady who died of grief for the loss of her infant.
Though I was thus wretched, and life had become a burden to me, my heart was hardened, and I still clung tenaciously to the lands and title I had so wickedly acquired. Though they brought me nothing but misery I could not give them up. I recoiled with terror from the scaffold that awaited me if I avowed myself a robber and a murderer, for my hands were red with the blood of Bertha, the wretched nurse.
But my conduct was not altogether ill, and I trust that the little good I have done may tell in my favour. I had consigned my nephew to the care of strangers, but I watched over him. I supplied all his wants--educated him as a gentleman--and made him a liberal allowance.
It was my intention to have greatly increased the allowance, so as in part to restore my ill-gotten gains. But this was not to be. Heaven had other designs, and mine were thwarted.
For reasons that seemed good to me, though interested in the cause, I forbade my nephew to join the rising in favour of the House of Stuart; but he heeded not my counsel.
Suddenly, when I least expected it, discovery of my crime seemed imminent. From some information he had privily received, the prince's suspicions were awakened, and he commanded me to appear before him, and answer certain questions he meant to put to me in the presence of my nephew and my daughter.
From such a terrible ordeal as this I naturally shrank. Death appeared preferable. But before putting an end to an existence that had long been a burden to me, I resolved to make all the atonement in my power for my evil deeds. With that intent have I come here.
In the ebony cabinet standing in the library, which contains all my private papers and letters, will be found incontestable evidences that my nephew is entitled to the estates, and that he is, in fact, the long-lost Conway Rawcliffe.
'Tis meet I should die at Rawcliffe, and in the very room where the crime was committed.
That I should thus rush unbidden into the presence of my Maker may seem to be adding to the weight of my offences, and to preclude all hope of salvation, but I trust in His mercy and forgiveness. He will judge me rightfully. He knows the torments I endure, and that they drive me to madness and despair. I must end them. Whether there will be rest in the grave for my perturbed spirit remains to be seen. Of the world I have already taken leave.
To the sole being to whom my heart clings with affection--to my daughter--I must now bid an eternal farewell! I cannot write to her, and she will understand why I cannot. I implore her prayers. When I am gone she will have no protector, and I trust that her cousin, Conway, will watch over her. My private property will be hers. Though small in comparison with Rawcliffe, 'twill be enough.
I have still much to say, for thick-coming thoughts press upon me; but I must not give them way. Were I to delay longer, my resolution might waver. Adieu, Conway! Adieu, Constance! Forgive me!--pray for me!
RICHARD RAWCLIFFE.
Enclosed within the packet was the key of the cabinet.
There was likewise another manuscript written by the unhappy baronetand signed by him, giving full particulars of the terrible occurrencealluded to; but since the reader is already acquainted with thedetails it is not necessary to reproduce them.
Atherton was profoundly moved by the perusal of this letter, andremained for some time buried in reflection.
Rousing himself at length from the reverie into which he had fallen,he looked round for the ebony cabinet, and easily discovered it.Unlocking it, he found that it contained a large bundle of letters andpapers labelled in the late baronet's hand, "Documents relating toConway Rawcliffe, with proofs of his title to the Rawcliffe estate."
He searched no further. He did not even untie the bundle, feelingcertain it contained all the necessary evidences; but having carefullysecured Sir Richard's last letter and confession, he locked thecabinet, and put the key in his pocket.
He then rang the bell, and when Markland made his appearance, he saidto him:
"Before my departure from Manchester, Markland, it is necessary that Ishould give you some instructions, in case I should not be able toreturn, for the prince may be unwilling to release me from myengagements. I am sure you have faithfully served your lateunfortunate master, and I am equally sure of your attachment to hisdaughter, and I have therefore every confidence in you. My greatanxiety is respecting Miss Rawcliffe," he continued, in accents thatbespoke the deepest feeling. "Intelligence of this dreadful event willbe communicated to her to-morrow. How she will bear it I know not."
"If I may venture to give an opinion, sir, and I have known the dearyoung lady from childhood, and am therefore well acquainted with hertemperament and disposition--when the first shock is over, she willbear the bereavement with resignation and firmness. She was familiarwith Sir Richard's wayward moods, and has often feared that somethingdreadful would happen to him. No doubt the shock will be a terribleone to her, and I can only hope she will be equal to it."
"All precautions shall be taken to break the sad tidings to her," saidAtherton. "When she comes here it is my wish that she should betreated precisely as heretofore--you understand, Markland."
The butler bowed.
"I hope she will bring her cousin--_my_ cousin, Miss Butler, with her.Mrs. Butler, I fear, may not be equal to the journey, but you willprepare for her
, and for Father Jerome."
"Your orders shall be strictly attended to, sir," said the butler.
"And now with regard to my unfortunate uncle," paused the youngbaronet. "In case I am unable to return, I must leave the care ofeverything to you. Certain formalities of justice, rendered necessaryby the case, must be observed, and you will take care that nothing isneglected. On all other points Miss Rawcliffe must be consulted."
"I will not fail to consult her, sir. But I am sure she would desirethat her father's remains should be laid in the vault beneath thechapel where his ancestors repose, and that the funeral rites shouldbe performed with the utmost privacy."
This conference ended, Atherton proceeded to the dining-room, andpartook of a slight repast, after which he prepared for his departure.
The horses had already been brought round by Holden, the groom, andthe night being extremely dark, the court-yard was illumined bytorches, their yellow glare revealing the picturesque architecture ofthe old mansion.
Before mounting his steed, Atherton gave his hand to Markland, whopressed it respectfully, earnestly assuring the young gentleman thatall his directions should be followed out.
The old butler then took leave of the sergeant, who had been inreadiness for some minutes.
In consequence of the darkness, it was deemed advisable that Holdenshould lead the way. Accordingly, he was the first to cross thedrawbridge, but the others kept close behind him.
CHAPTER XXXII.
ATHERTON'S DECISION IS MADE.
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