Death of Sir Richard Rawcliffe.
Page 201.
He had shot himself through the heart, so that his death must have been 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 the body—the young baronet in his military attire—the Highlander in his accoutrements—and the old butler—formed a striking picture. That the guilty man should die there seemed like the work of retribution.
As the nephew he had so deeply injured, and deprived of his inheritance, looked down upon his dark and stern visage, now stilled 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," said Markland, sorrowfully. "Half his time has been spent in fasting and 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, these warning words appeared: