It was instantly thrown wide to give him exit--but Lord Ashborough never went out! The one word, "Villain!" was all that he pronounced in the hearing of the turnkey; and he then fell forward at once, across the threshold of the door!
All was now confusion. Both jailers started forward to raise the nobleman, whom they believed to have tripped his foot in the doorway. Harding gave one longing look towards the open door and the embarrassed turnkeys; but then, turning his eyes to the fetters upon his own limbs, he sat down with a sigh of infinite compassion for himself, while the earl was raised, and the door locked.
"He has fainted, Mr. Jones?" said one of the jailers. "Here, take his feet, and help me to carry him along to the waiting-room."
"He looks deadly pale!" replied the other, stooping forward, and gazing in Lord Ashborough's face, while he aided to bear the earl onward through the passage. "He looks mighty like a dead man."
The consternation of the governor of the prison was excessive when he saw the state of the noble visiter; and, while physicians were sent for from every quarter, he himself pressed his hand upon the earl's wrist, and upon his heart; but no pulse made itself felt in return; and all the usual restoratives were applied in vain.
A moment or two after, the surgeon of the prison appeared; but, as soon as he beheld the countenance of him to whose aid he was called, he shook his head, declaring that he believed him to be dead. He attempted to bleed him, however; but by this time no blood was to be obtained, and two or three medical men from different parts of the town, arriving soon after, confirmed the opinion of the first. Nevertheless, various means were still resorted to in the hope of restoring animation, while messengers were despatched to the different inns to ascertain at which the earl had alighted, and to inform his relations and servants of what had occurred.
Henry Beauchamp was still musing over the fire when Lord Ashborough's valet opened the door, and with a face of grief and terror, extremely well compounded, exclaimed, "Sir, I am sorry to tell you that my lord has been taken very ill at the prison"----
Beauchamp started up, and took his hat, while the servant added, "Indeed, they seem to fear, sir, that he is dead!"
"Good God!" cried Beauchamp, as he rushed past the man--"Good God!" and, darting down stairs, he proceeded with rapid steps to the prison, into which, on giving his name, he was instantly admitted.
He found what had been Lord Ashborough extended on a table with a pillow under his head, and the surgeons still busy about the body; but one glance at his uncle's countenance showed him that the spirit had fled; and for a moment he gazed upon him without question or remark, while busy memory did her work, and gathered from the past every kind act of the dead, to build him up a monument in his nephew's heart.