"No, sir, thank you," replied Austin, gasping for breath.

"Since you have admitted that Joseph Rushbrook is your son, Mr Austin,"

continued McShane, "your own flesh and blood, may I inquire of you what you intend to do in his behalf? Do you intend to allow the law to take its course, and your son to be banished for life?"

"What can I do, gentlemen? He has been tried and condemned: of course if any exertion on my part can avail--but I fear that there is no chance of that."

"Mr Austin, if he were guilty I should not have interfered; but, in my opinion, he is innocent; do you not think so?"

"I do not believe, sir, that he ever would have done such a deed; but that avails nothing, he is condemned."

"I grant it, unless the real murderer of the pedlar could be brought forward."

"Y-e-s," replied Austin, trembling.

"Shall I denounce him, Mr Austin?"

"Do you know him?" replied Austin, starting on his feet.

"Yes, Rushbrook," replied McShane, in a voice of thunder, "I do know him,--'tis yourself!"

Austin could bear up no longer, he fell down on the floor as if he had been shot. O'Donahue and McShane went to his a.s.sistance; they raised him up, but he was insensible; they then rang the bell for a.s.sistance, the servant came in, medical advice was sent for, and McShane and O'Donahue, perceiving there was no chance of prosecuting their intentions, in Mr Austin's present state, quitted the Hall just as the chaise with Mrs Austin and Mary drove up to the door.

CHAPTER FIFTY.

IN WHICH IT IS TO BE HOPED THAT THE STORY WINDS UP TO THE SATISFACTION OF THE READER.

It was not for some time after the arrival of the medical men that Mr Austin could be recovered from his state of insensibility, and when he was at last restored to life, it was not to reason. He raved wildly, and it was p.r.o.nounced that his attack was a brain fever. As, in his incoherent exclamations, the name of Byres was frequently repeated, as soon as the medical a.s.sistants had withdrawn, Mrs Austin desired all the servants, with the exception of Mary, to quit the room; they did so with reluctance, for their curiosity was excited, and there was shrugging of the shoulders, and whispering, and surmising, and repeating of the words which had escaped from their unconscious master's lips, and hints that all was not right pa.s.sed from one to another in the servants'

hall. In the mean time, Mrs Austin and Mary remained with him; and well it was that the servants had been sent away, if they were not to know what had taken place so long ago, for now Austin played the whole scene over again, denounced himself as a murderer, spoke of his son, and of his remorse, and then he would imagine himself in conflict with Byres--he clenched his fists--and he laughed and chuckled and then would change again to bitter lamentations for the deed which he had done.

"Oh, Mary, how is this to end?" exclaimed Mrs Austin, after one of the paroxysms had subsided.

"As guilt always must end, madam," replied Mary, bursting into tears and clasping her hands,--"in misery."

"My dear Mary, do not distress yourself in that manner; you are no longer guilty."

"Nor is my master then, madam; for I am sure that he has repented."

"Yes, indeed, he has repented most sincerely; one hasty deed has embittered his whole life--he never has been happy since, and never will be until he is in heaven."

"Oh, what a happy relief it would be to him!" replied Mary, musing. "I wish that I was, if such wish is not sinful."

"Mary, you must not add to my distress by talking in that manner; I want your support and consolation now."

"You have a right to demand everything of me, madam," replied Mary, "and I will do my best, I will indeed. I have often felt this before, and I thank G.o.d for it; it will make me more humble."

The fever continued for many days, during which time Mr Austin was attended solely by his wife and Mary; the latter had written to our hero, stating the cause of her absence from him in so trying a period, and she had received an answer, stating that he had received from very good authority the information that he was not likely to leave the country for some weeks, and requesting that Mary would remain with his mother until his father's dangerous illness was decided one way or the other he stated that he should be perfectly satisfied if he only saw her once before his departure, to arrange with her relative to her affairs, and to give her legal authority to act for him, previously to his removal from the country. He told her that he had perceived an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the London papers, evidently put in by his friends at Portsmouth, offering a handsome reward to any one who could give any account of him--and that he was fearful that some of those who were at the trial would read it, and make known his position; he begged Mary to write to him every day if possible, if it were only a few lines, and sent his devoted love to his mother. Mary complied with all our hero's requests, and every day a few lines were despatched; and it was now ascertained by the other domestics, and by them made generally known, that a daily correspondence was kept up with a prisoner in Exeter gaol, which added still more mystery and interest to the state of Mr Austin.

Many were the calls and cards left at the Hall, and if we were to inquire whether curiosity or condolence was the motive of those who went there, we are afraid that the cause would, in most cases, have proved to have been the former. Among others, O'Donahue and McShane did not fail to send every day, waiting for the time when they could persuade Austin to do justice to his own child.

The crisis, as predicted by the medical attendants, at last arrived, and Mr Austin recovered his reason; but, at the same time, all hopes of his again rising from his bed were given over. This intelligence was communicated to his wife, who wept and wished, but dared not utter what she wished; Mary, however took an opportunity, when Mrs Austin had quitted the room, to tell Mr Austin, who was in such a feeble state that he could hardly speak, that the time would soon come when he would be summoned before a higher tribunal, and conjured him, by the hopes he had of forgiveness, now that the world was fading away before his eyes, to put away all pride, and to do that justice to his son which our hero's n.o.ble conduct towards him demanded--to make a confession, either in writing or in presence of witnesses, before he died--which would prove the innocence of his only child, the heir to the property and the name.

There was a straggle, and a long one, in the proud heart of Mr Austin before he could consent to this act of justice. Mary had pointed out the propriety of it early in the morning, and it was not until late in the evening, after having remained in silence and with his eyes closed for the whole day, that Austin made a sign to his wife to bend down to him, and desired her in a half-whisper to send for a magistrate. His request was immediately attended to; and in an hour the summons was answered by one with whom Austin had been on good terms. Austin made his deposition in few words, and was supported by Mary while he signed the paper. It was done; and when she would have removed the pen from his fingers, she found that it was still held fast, and that his head had fallen back; the conflict between his pride and this act of duty had been too overpowering for him in his weak condition, and Mr Austin was dead before the ink of his signature had time to dry.

The gentleman who had been summoned in his capacity of magistrate, thought it advisable to remove from the scene of distress without attempting to communicate with Mrs Austin in her present sorrow. He had been in conversation with O'Donahue and McShane at the time that he was summoned, and Mr Austin's illness and the various reports abroad had been there canva.s.sed. O'Donahue and McShane had reserved the secret; but when their friend was sent for, antic.i.p.ating some such result would take place, they requested him to return to them from the Hall: he did so, and acquainted them with what had pa.s.sed.

"There's no time to lose, then," said McShane; "I will, if you please, take a copy of this deposition."

O'Donahue entered into a brief narrative of the circ.u.mstances and the behaviour of our hero; and, as soon as the copy of the deposition had been attested by the magistrate, he and McShane ordered horses, and set off for London. They knocked up Mr Trevor at his private house in the middle of the night, and put the doc.u.ment into his hands.

"Well, Major McShane, I would gladly have risen from a sick bed to have had this paper put into my hands; we must call upon the Secretary of State to-morrow, and I have no doubt but that the poor lad will be speedily released, take possession of his property, and be an honour to the county."

"An honour to old England," replied McShane; "but I shall now wish you good night."

McShane, before he went to bed, immediately wrote a letter to Mrs Austin, acquainting her with what he had done, and the intentions of Mr Trevor, sending it by express; he simply stated the facts, without any comments.

But we must now return to Portsmouth. The advertis.e.m.e.nt of Mr Small did not escape the keen eye of the police-constable who had arrested our hero--as the reader must recollect the arrest was made so quietly that no one was aware of the circ.u.mstance, and as the reward of 100 pounds would be a very handsome addition to the 200 pounds which he had already received--the man immediately set off for Portsmouth on the outside of the coach, and went to Mr Small, where he found him in the counting-house with Mr Sleek. He soon introduced himself; and his business with them; and such was Mr Small's impatience that he immediately signed a cheque for the amount, and handed it to the police-officer, who then bluntly told him that our hero had been tried for murder, and sentenced to transportation, his real name being Rushbrook, and not O'Donahue.

This was a heavy blow to Mr Small: having obtained all the particulars from the police-constable, he dismissed him, and was for some time in consultation with Mr Sleek; and as it would be impossible long to withhold the facts, it was thought advisable that Mrs Phillips and Emma should become acquainted with them immediately, the more so as Emma had acknowledged that there was a mystery about our hero, a portion of which she was acquainted with.

Mrs Phillips was the first party to whom the intelligence was communicated, and she was greatly distressed. It was some time before she could decide upon whether Emma, in her weak state, should be made acquainted with the melancholy tidings, but as she had suffered so much from suspense, it was at last considered advisable that the communication should be made. It was done as cautiously as possible; Emma was not so shocked as they supposed she would have been at the intelligence.

"I have been prepared for this, or something like this," replied she, weeping in her mother's arms, "but I cannot believe that he has done the deed; he told me that he did not, when he was a child; he has a.s.serted it since. Mother, I must--I will go and see him."

"See him, my child! he is confined in gaol."

"Do not refuse me, mother, you know not what I feel--you know not--I never knew myself till now how much I loved him. See him I must, and will. Dearest mother, if you value my life, if you would not drive reason from its seat, do not refuse me."

Mrs Phillips found that it was in vain to argue, and consulted with Mr Small, who at length (after having in vain remonstrated with Emma) decided that her request should be granted, and that very day he accompanied his niece, travelling all night, until they arrived at Exeter.

In the mean time, Mrs Austin had remained in a state of great distress; her husband lay dead; she believed that he had confessed his guilt, but to what extent she did not know, for neither she nor Mary had heard what pa.s.sed between him and the magistrate. She had no one but Mary to confide in or to console, no one to advise with or to consult. She thought of sending for the magistrate, but it would appear indecorous, and she was all anxiety and doubt. The letter from McShane, which arrived the next afternoon, relieved her at once; she felt that her boy was safe.

"Mary, dear, read this; he is safe," exclaimed she. "G.o.d of heaven, accept a mother's grateful tears."

"Cannot you spare me, madam?" replied Mary, returning the letter.

"Spare you. Oh, yes! quick, Mary, lose not a moment; go to him, and take this letter with you. My dear, dear child." Mary did not wait a second command; she sent for post-horses, and in half an hour was on her way to Exeter; travelling with as much speed as Emma and her uncle, she arrived there but a few hours after them.

Our hero had been anxiously awaiting for Mary's daily communication; the post time had pa.s.sed, and it had not arrived. Pale and haggard from long confinement and distress of mind, he was pacing up and down, when the bolts were turned, and Emma, supported by her uncle, entered the cell. At the sight of her, our hero uttered a cry, and staggered against the wall; he appeared to have lost his usual self-control.

"Oh," said he, "this might have been spared me; I have not deserved this punishment. Emma, hear me. As I hope for future happiness I am innocent; I am--I am, indeed--" and he fell senseless on the pavement.

Mr Small raised him up and put him on the bed; after a time he revived, and remained where he had been laid, sobbing convulsively.

As soon as he became more composed, Emma, who had been sitting by him, the tears coursing each other down her pale cheeks, addressed him in a calm voice.

"I feel--I am sure that you are innocent, or I should not have been here."

"Bless you for that, Emma, bless you; those few words of yours have given me more consolation than you can imagine. Is it nothing to be treated as a felon, to be disgraced, to be banished to a distant country, and that at the very time that I was full of happiness, prosperous, and antic.i.p.ating?--but I cannot dwell upon that. Is it not hard to bear, Emma? and what could support me, but the consciousness of my own innocence, and the a.s.surance that she whom I love so, and whom I now lose for ever, still believes me so? Yes, it is a balm; a consolation; and I will now submit to the will of Heaven."