Read it--read it."
The letter was an official one; the envelope immense, with "On her
Majesty's Service" stamped upon it, and out of all proportion to the
scanty contents, which ran as follows:
"LINGMOOR PRISON, _December 22._
"MADAM,--I am instructed by the Governor of this Jail to acquaint
you with the sad news that your son, Richard Yorke, is no more.
Four weeks ago he escaped from prison by night, and took refuge in
an adjoining wood. His body was discovered only four days ago, and
an inquest held upon it, when a verdict was returned in accordance
with the facts. I am, Madam, yours obediently,
"THOMAS SPARKES (_for the Governor_).
"I am instructed to inclose a locket with miniature, which was
found upon your son on his arrival here. The rest of his property
will be forwarded by rail."
This locket contained the little picture of Harry painted by Richard
himself, and which, though he had contrived to secrete while at Cross
Key, had been taken from him at Lingmoor.
Harry's breast was agitated by conflicting emotions. To know that her
boy was safe--that there could be no murder done--gave her a sense of
intense relief, which could scarcely be called selfish. But that
reflection was but transient, and a passionate burst of sorrow succeeded
it.
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