Lord Clifford gave his servant the requisite precautions.  Lord Graham added a note of invitation, and sent it by a servant of his own.  As soon as all things were ready, the messengers set out with all speed for the Castle of Lovel.

They stayed no longer by the way than to take some refreshment, but rode night and day till they arrived there.

Lord Fitz-Owen was in the parlour with his children; Father Oswald was walking in the avenue before the house, when he saw three messengers whose horses seemed jaded, and the riders fatigued, like men come a long journey.  He came up, just as the first had delivered his message to the porter.  John Wyatt knew him; he dismounted, and made signs that he had something to say to him; he retired back a few steps, and John, with great dexterity, slipped a letter into his hand.  The father gave him his blessing, and a welcome.

“Who do you come from?” said he aloud.

“From the Lords Graham and Clifford to the Lord Fitz-Owen; and we bring letters of consequence to the Baron.”

Oswald followed the messengers into the hall; a servant announced their arrival.  Lord Fitz-Owen received them in the parlour; Lord Clifford’s servant delivered his master’s letter, Lord Graham’s his, and they said they would retire and wait his Lordship’s answer.  The Baron ordered them some refreshment.  They retired, and he opened his letters.  He read them with great agitations, he struck his hand upon his heart, he exclaimed, “My fears are all verified! the blow is struck, and it has fallen upon the guilty!”

Oswald came in a minute after.

“You are come in good time,” said the Baron.  “Read that letter, that my children may know the contents.”

He read it, with faultering voice, and trembling limbs.  They were all in great surprise.  William looked down, and kept a studied silence.  Sir Robert exclaimed—­

“Is it possible? can my uncle be guilty of such an action?”

“You hear,” said the Baron, “he has confessed it!”

“But to whom?” said Sir Robert.

“His father replied, “Lord Clifford’s honour is unquestionable, and I cannot doubt what he affirms.”

Sir Robert leaned his head upon his hand, as one lost in thought; at length he seemed to awake.

“My Lord, I have no doubt that Edmund is at the bottom of this business.  Do you not remember that Sir Philip Harclay long ago promised him his friendship?  Edmund disappears; and, soon after, this man challenges my Uncle.  You know what passed here before his departure; He has suggested this affair to Sir Philip, and instigated him to this action.  This is the return he has made for the favours he has received from our family, to which he owes every thing!”

“Softly, my son!” said the Baron; “let us be cautious of reflecting upon Edmund; there is a greater hand in this business.  My conjecture was too true; It was in that fatal apartment that he was made acquainted with the circumstances of Lord Lovel’s death; he was, perhaps, enjoined to reveal them to Sir Philip Harclay, the bosom friend of the deceased.  The mystery of that apartment is disclosed, the woe to the guilty is accomplished!  There is no reflection upon any one; Heaven effects its purposes in its own time and manner.  I and mine are innocent; let us worship, and be silent!”