"But," begins Mona, feebly, hardly sure of her blessed release.,
On the right side of the fireplace, lying along the wall, is a rude stretcher,—or what appears to be such,—on which, shrouded decently in a white cloth, lies something that chills with mortal fear the heart, as it reminds it of that to which we all some day must come. Beneath the shroud the murdered man lies calmly sleeping, his face smitten into the marble smile of death.,
Then Mona says, in a trembling voice and rather disconnectedly, because of her emotion, "Be quite sure you shall be—buried—where all the other baronets of Rodney lie at rest.".
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