The road they were now pursuing formed a sort of causeway, bounded onthe left by the deeply-flowing river, and on the right by the dark anddreary waste which could be seen stretching out for miles, almost asfar as the town towards which they were speeding. This dangerousmorass was then wholly impassable, except by those familiar with it;and, as Atherton's eye wandered over its treacherous surface, hepointed out to his attendant a distant spot on the extreme verge ofthe marsh, observing, with a singular smile:
"Yonder is Warrington."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Dickson. "Then we might shorten our distancematerially by crossing the morass."
"No doubt, if we _could_ cross it," rejoined Atherton. "But we shouldbe swallowed up, horse and man, before we had proceeded far. Many anincautious traveller has met his death in Chat Moss."
"It looks an unchancy place, I must say," observed the sergeant,shuddering, as he gazed at it.
Beyond Boysnape the causeway narrowed, bringing them in dangerousproximity both with the river and the morass; but they rode on pastIrlam, until they reached the point of junction between the Irwell andthe Mersey--the last-named river dividing Cheshire from Lancashire.They had now ridden full ten miles; but, as their steeds showed nosigns of fatigue, they went without slackening their pace toGlazebrook and Rixton. Chat Moss had been left behind, and for thelast two miles they had been passing through a well-wooded district,and had now reached another dangerous morass, called Risley Moss,which compelled them to keep close to the Mersey. Little, however,could be seen of the river, its banks being thickly fringed withwillows and other trees. Passing Martinscroft and Woolston, they heldon till they came within half-a-mile of Warrington, even then aconsiderable town. Though the bridge at Warrington had been destroyed,a ford was pointed out to them, and they were soon on the other sideof the Mersey, and in Cheshire.
From inquiries which they now made at a small roadside inn, where theyhalted for a few minutes to refresh themselves and their horses, theyascertained they were within a mile of Rawcliffe Park, and after ashort colloquy with the host, who was very curious to learn what wasdoing at Manchester, and who told them he had seen Sir RichardRawcliffe ride past some three or four hours ago, they resumed theirjourney, and soon arrived at the gates of the park.
CHAPTER XXVII.
RAWCLIFFE HALL.
The domain was extensive, but had a neglected appearance, and did notpossess any old timber, all the well-grown trees having been cut downin the time of the former proprietor, Sir Oswald Rawcliffe. Neitherwas the park picturesque, being flat, and in some places marshy. Onone side it was bounded by the Mersey, and its melancholy lookimpressed Atherton as he gazed around.
Still he felt a singular interest in the place for which he could notaccount, unless it were that Constance was connected with it.
At length, they came in sight of the old mansion, near which grew someof the finest trees they had yet seen. The house had a gloomy lookthat harmonised with the melancholy appearance of the park.
Atherton had never beheld the place before, yet he seemed somehowfamiliar with it. The wide moat by which it was surrounded, thedrawbridge, the gate-tower, the numerous gables, the bay-windows, allseemed like an imperfectly recollected picture.
So struck was he with the notion that he drew in the rein for a fewminutes, and gazed steadfastly at the antique mansion, endeavouring torecall the circumstances under which he could have beheld it, but itvanished like a dream.
Before riding up to the house, he held a brief consultation with thesergeant, as to how it would be best to proceed.
Hitherto they had seen no one in the park, which, as already stated,had a thoroughly neglected air; nor, as far as they could judge, hadtheir approach been remarked by any of the inmates of the house.
Gloom seemed to brood over the place. So silent was it that it mighthave been uninhabited.
"If I had not been assured that Sir Richard is at home, I should nothave thought so," remarked Atherton. "The house has not a verycheerful or hospitable air."
"Luckily, the drawbridge is down, or we might have been kept on thewrong side of the moat," remarked the sergeant. "My advice is that weenter the fort before we are discovered, or we may never get in atall."
Acting upon the counsel, Atherton put spurs to his horse and rode upto the house, which did not look a whit more cheerful as he approachedit, and without halting to ring the bell, dashed across thedrawbridge, passed through the open gateway and entered thecourt-yard, which to the young man's great surprise did not look soneglected as the exterior of the mansion had led him to anticipate.
The noise they made on entering the court-yard seemed to have rousedthe inmates from the sleep into which they had apparently beenplunged. An old butler, followed by a couple of footmen, came out ofthe house, and with evident alarm depicted in his countenance,requested to know their business.
"Our business is with Sir Richard Rawcliffe," replied Atherton. "Wemust see him immediately."
"I do not think Sir Richard will see you, gentlemen," replied thebutler. "He is much fatigued. I will deliver any message to him withwhich you may charge me."
"We must see him," cried the sergeant, authoritatively. "We come fromthe prince."
The butler no longer hesitated, but assuming a deferential air, saidhe would at once conduct the gentlemen to his master.
As they had already dismounted, he bade one of the servants take theirhorses to the stable, and ushered the unwelcome visitors into a largeentrance-hall, in which a wood fire was burning.
Remarking that the butler stared at him very hard, Atherton said:
"You look at me as if you had seen me before. Is it so? I have norecollection of you."
"I don't think I have seen you before, sir," replied the man, gravely."But I have seen some one very like you." Whom shall I announce to SirRichard?"
"I am Captain Legh," said Atherton. "But there is no necessity toannounce me. Conduct me to your master at once."
The butler, though evidently uneasy, did not venture to disobey, butled him to a room that opened out of the hall. The sergeant followedclose behind Atherton.
They had been ushered into the library. Sir Richard was writing at atable, but raising his eyes on their entrance, he started up, andexclaimed in an angry voice:
"Why have you brought these persons here, Markland. I told you I wouldnot be disturbed."
"Your servant is not to blame, Sir Richard," interposed Atherton. "Iinsisted upon seeing you. I am sent to bring you to the prince."
"It is my intention to return to Manchester to-night," replied thebaronet, haughtily. "But I have some affairs to arrange."
"I shall be sorry to inconvenience you, Sir Richard," observedAtherton. "But my orders are precise. You must present yourself at theprince's head-quarters before midnight."
"I engage to do so," replied the baronet.
"But you must be content to accompany me, Sir Richard. Such are myorders from his royal highness."
"And mine," added Sergeant Dickson.
Controlling his anger by a powerful effort, Sir Richard said withforced calmness:
"Since such are the prince's orders I shall not dispute them. I willreturn with you to Manchester. We will set out in two hours' time. Inthe interim I shall be able to arrange some papers which I came for,and which I desire to take with me. By that time you will have rested,and your horses will be ready for the journey."
Then turning to Markland, he added:
"Conduct Captain Legh and Sergeant Dickson to the dining-room, and setsome refreshment before them without delay."
"Take me to the servants' hall, Mr. Markland," said Dickson. "I cannotsit down with my officer."
Just as Atherton was about to leave the room, Sir Richard stepped upto him and said in a low tone:
"Before we start, I should like to have a little conversation with youin private, Captain Legh."
"I am quite at your service now, Sir Richard," replied the young man.
He then glanced si
gnificantly at Dickson, who went out with thebutler, leaving him alone with the baronet.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A STARTLING DISCLOSURE.
When the door was closed, Sir Richard's manner somewhat changedtowards the young man, and with less haughtiness than he had hithertomanifested, he said to him:
"Pray be seated. I have much to say to you."
Atherton complied, but for some minutes Sir Richard continued to pacerapidly to and fro within the room, as if unwilling to commence theconversation he had proposed.
At last, he seated himself opposite the young man, who had watched himwith surprise.
"Are you acquainted with the history of my family?" he inquired,looking steadfastly at his auditor.
"I have some slight acquaintance with it," replied Atherton.
"You are aware, I presume, that the Rawcliffes have occupied this oldmansion for upwards of two centuries?"
Atherton bowed, but made no remark. Sir Richard went on:
"My ancestors have all been high and honourable men, and have handed aproud name from one generation to another. Would it not be grievous ifa stain were affixed on a name, hitherto unsullied, like ours? Yet ifthis inquiry which the prince has instituted be pursued, such mustinfallibly be the case. A dark secret connected with our family may bebrought to light. Now listen to me, and you shall judge:
"Some twenty years ago, Sir Oswald Rawcliffe, my elder brother, died,leaving a widow and an infant son. Lady Rawcliffe came to reside herewith her child--do you note what I say?"
"I think I have heard that the child was stolen under mysteriouscircumstances," said Atherton, "and that the lady subsequently died ofgrief."
"You have heard the truth," said Sir Richard, with a strange look. "Asthe child could not be found, I succeeded to the title and theestates."
A pause ensued, during which such fearful suspicions crossed Athertonthat he averted his gaze from the baronet.
Suddenly, Sir Richard rose in his chair, leaned forward, and gazingfixedly at Atherton, exclaimed:
"What will you say if I tell you that the child who was carried off,and supposed to be dead, is still living? What will you say if I tellyou that you are Conway Rawcliffe, the son of Sir Oswald, and rightfulheir to the property?"
"Amazement!" cried the listener.
"For many years I have deprived you of your inheritance and yourtitle--have appropriated your estates, and have dwelt in your house.But I have been haunted by remorse, and have known no happiness. Sleephas been scared from my eyelids by the pale lady who died of grief inthis very house, and I have known no rest. But I shall sleep soundlysoon," he added, with terrible significance. "I will make reparationfor the wrongs I have done. I will restore all I have taken fromyou--house, lands, name, title."
Again there was a pause. The young man was struck dumb byastonishment, and it was Sir Richard who broke silence.
"What think you I was engaged on when you entered this room? I willtell you. I was writing out a full confession of the crime I havecommitted, in the hope of atoning for my guilt. Already I havenarrated part of the dark story. I have told how you were carried offand whither you were conveyed; but I have yet to relate how you werebrought up in Manchester in complete ignorance of the secret of yourbirth, and how I acted as your guardian. Full details shall be givenso that your identity can easily be established. When my confession isfinished, I will deliver it to you, and you can show it to theprince."
"However you may have acted previously, you are acting well now,"remarked Atherton. "But I will no longer interrupt you in your task."
"Stay!" cried the baronet. "I will show you a room which I myself havenot seen for years. I have not dared to enter it, but I can enter itnow. Follow me!"
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE MYSTERIOUS CHAMBER.
Opening a movable shelf in the bookcase, he disclosed a narrowpassage, along which they proceeded till they came to a small backstaircase, evidently communicating by a small outlet with the moat.
Mounting this staircase, Sir Richard unfastened a door, which admittedthem to a dark corridor. From its appearance it was evident that thispart of the mansion was shut up.
A stifling sensation, caused by the close, oppressive atmosphere,affected Atherton, and vague terrors assailed him. Two doors facedthem. Sir Richard opened one of the doors, and led his companion intoan antechamber, the furniture of which was mouldering and covered withdust.
A door communicating with an inner room stood ajar. After a moment'shesitation Sir Richard passed through it, and was followed byAtherton.
The chamber was buried in gloom, but on a window-shutter being openeda strange scene was disclosed. At the further end of the apartmentstood an old bedstead, which seemed fully prepared for some occupant,though it could not have been slept in for many years. Quilt andpillow were mildewed and mouldering, and the sheets yellow with age.The hangings were covered with dust. Altogether, the room had aghostly look.
For some moments Atherton could not remove his gaze from that old bed,which seemed to exercise a sort of fascination, but when he looked atSir Richard, he was appalled by the terrible change that had come overhim.
He looked the picture of horror and despair. His pallid countenancewas writhen with anguish, and his limbs shook. A deep groan burst fromhis labouring breast.
"The hour is near at hand," he muttered, in tones scarcely human. "ButI am not yet ready. Spare me till my task is finished!"
With a ghastly look he then added to Atherton: "The whole scene risesbefore me as it occurred on that dreadful night. The room is hushedand quiet, and within that bed a child is peacefully slumbering on hismother's breast. A masked intruder comes in--admitted by the nurse,who has betrayed her mistress. Unmoved by a picture of innocence thatmight have touched any heart less savage than his own, he snatches upthe child, and is bearing it off when the mother awakes. Her piercingshriek still rings through my ears. I cannot describe whatfollows--but 'tis soon over--and when the worse than robber departswith his prize, he leaves the wretched mother lying senseless on thefloor, and the nurse dead--slain by his ruthless hand!"
"Horror!" exclaimed Atherton, unable to control his feelings.
"Let us hence, or I shall become mad," cried Sir Richard, hurrying himaway.
So bewildered was Atherton, that he could scarcely tell how heregained the library, but when he got there, he sank into a chair, andcovered his eyes with his hands, as if to exclude the terrible visionby which he had been beset.
On rousing himself from the stupor into which he had fallen, heperceived Sir Richard seated at the table, writing his confession, andfeeling that his presence might disturb him, he rose to depart.
Sir Richard rose likewise, and while conducting him to the door, said:
"I will send for you when I have done. I shall be best alone for ashort time. But let me give you a word of counsel, and do not distrustit because it comes from me. 'Tis my wish, as you know, to repair thewrong I have done. I would not have you forfeit the lofty position youhave just obtained."
"I hope I shall not forfeit it," said Atherton, proudly.
"You will not long hold it," rejoined Sir Richard, in a solemn tone,"unless you withdraw from this ill-fated expedition. It will end inyour destruction. Attend to my warning!"
"I cannot honourably retreat," said Atherton.
"You must," cried Sir Richard, sternly. "Why throw away your life froma fancied sense of honour, when such fair prospects are opening uponyou? 'Twill be madness to persist."
Atherton made no reply, and Sir Richard said no more.
But as he opened the door he gave the young man a look so full ofstrange significance that he almost guessed its import.
Sir Richard paused for a moment as he went back to the table.
"What is the use of this?" he exclaimed aloud. "No remonstrance willdeter him. He will go on to destruction. The estates will pass awayfrom us. Perchance a few words, written at the last moment, may changehim! Heaven grant it. I will try. B
ut now to complete my task. Allwill soon be over!"
With this he sat down at the table, and with a strange composureresumed his writing.
CHAPTER XXX.
A TERRIBLE CATASTROPHE.
On returning to the entrance-hall Atherton found Markland, the butler.The old man looked at him very wistfully, and said:
"Excuse me, sir, if I venture to say a few words to you. Has animportant communication been made to you by Sir Richard?"
"A very important communication, indeed," replied Atherton. "And whenI tell you what it is, I think I shall surprise you?"
"No, you won't surprise me in the least, sir," replied Markland. "Themoment I set eyes upon you I felt certain that you were the rightfulheir of this property. You are the very image of my former master, SirOswald. I hope Sir Richard intends to do you justice and acknowledgeyou?"
"Be satisfied, my good friend, he does," replied Atherton.
"I am truly glad to hear it," said Markland. "This will take off aweight that has lain on his breast for years, and make him a happy manonce more. Strange! I always felt sure the infant heir would turn up.I never believed he was dead. But I didn't expect to behold so fine ayoung gentleman. I hope you are not going to leave us again now youhave come back."
"I must leave you for a time, Markland, however inclined I may be tostay. I have joined the prince's army, and am a captain in theManchester Regiment."
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