“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 assistance; they raised him up, but he was insensible; they then rang the bell for assistance, 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 pronounced that his attack was a brain fever. As, in his incoherent exclamations, the name of Byres was frequently repeated, as soon as the medical assistants had withdrawn, Mrs Austin desired all the servants, with the exception of Mary, to quit the room; they did so with reluctance, for their curiosity was excited, and there was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 passed 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.”