"Our chance of seeing you again is but slight, sir," rejoined the butler, shaking his head. "The prince is not likely to part with you. Shall Sir Richard's groom, Holden, attend you? Should you have any message to send to me, he will bring it back."
"Yes, I will take him with me," replied Atherton. "Perhaps Miss Rawcliffe may require him."
"You have eaten nothing, sir."
"I have no appetite. But let a slight repast be prepared for me in half an hour."
The butler bowed and left the room.
As yet Atherton had only read certain portions of his unhappy uncle's confession; but he now unfolded the manuscript with the intention of carefully 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.