The Earl of Engelmeed.
James Campbell stared at this superscription and then glanced at the wreck on the bed, who now bore the dignity of an earldom.
He could not hesitate to deliver this letter, however it might affect his patient. He must deliver it! He had no choice.
But what a shock! what a revelation! what a mockery it would now be to him!—to him who had sinned for wealth and rank, who had sold his birthright for a mess of pottage and found the dish—poisoned!
The Earl of Engelmeed was dead. His son and heir-apparent had died before him, and now—their next of kin, their worthless relative, Kightly Montgomery, the penniless adventurer, who had been driven by greed of gold and love of luxury to crime and to death—the sinful, dying Kightly Montgomery, was now master of Engelwode, with a rent roll of twenty thousand pounds a year!
Ah, if he had only been good and true, he would have lived to enjoy the old title and the rich estate—more honors than he could possibly have gained by all his crimes, even though each one of them had been a complete success!
But now, what a cruel mockery of fate!
Mr. Campbell, reflecting on all these matters, felt really sorry for the wretched criminal, to whom the unexpected news of his succession to the earldom, coming to him in his last hours, must truly seem the bitterest irony of fortune.
“You have bad news there,” said the dying man, glancing at the broad, black-edged envelope.
“Yes, I fear so. It comes from Engelwode, in Cumberland, where you have relatives, I think,” replied the rector gravely.