“What was he to do? what would be the end of this terrible business? Death on the public scaffold.”
This thought was a maddening one. He struck his forehead with his clenched fist, let down the window of the vehicle, and gasped for air, for he felt as one about to faint.
Mr. Shearman would be too much for him—that was but too painfully manifested. On the next examination he could complete his case, and then in all probability he would be given into the custody of the American representatives. Bail would, of course, be refused, and it was not very difficult to see how it would all end.
Doctor Bourne, upon arriving at his own residence, endeavoured to muster up an air of intrepidity to his brow. Upon alighting he told his coachman that he should not go out for the remainder of the day. Then, having signified this much, he opened the street door with his key and made at once for his surgery.
He remained there for two or three hours making up some prescriptions. The medicine boy came in and sallied forth with his basket of drugs, after which the doctor went into the front parlour.
When dinner was laid he was informed by the maid servant that her mistress was indisposed and begged to be excused at the dinner hour, adding that she, Amy, was to take her up a basin of soup and a small portion of fish into her bedroom. This was done, and Bourne sat down to his solitary meal.
He was glad, however, to be by himself. He did not believe in the indisposition of his wife, and deemed it only an excuse. Perhaps he was not very far out in his supposition. He did not care to meet her, nor she him; and, so as far as that went, they were both satisfied.
He had no appetite, but swallowed several glasses of wine, which he supplemented by a small modicum of cognac. Then he endeavoured to swallow a few mouthfuls of food. This he found no easy task. His throat was inflamed, and his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth. Nevertheless, he felt constrained to make a pretence of dining, and to say the truth a most miserable pretence it was. However, it had to be gone through.
He was very quiet and reserved, and only hazarded a few chance observations to Amy, who was struck with the paleness of his countenance and his distraught manner. However, she did not appear to notice it, and spoke to her master in her usual respectful cheery manner.
Bourne looked at her for a moment, and then heaved a deep-drawn sigh.