McCray’s foresight was needed; for at those words—words that Sir Murray Gernon seemed to have expected—he raised one hand to his cravat, and then his knees gave way beneath him, and he would have fallen but for the stout supporting arm of his old servant.
“It’s apoplexy! Sir Mooray was seized so before. There, for Gude-sake, my laird, don’t stand glowering there like that, but rin and send a groom for the doctor. Fetch pillows, will ye? and, ladies and gentlemen, in Sir Mooray’s name I ask ye all to gang hame; for this is a sair nicht at the Castle!”
At the same moment there was seen through the darkness of the autumn evening the flashing of lights in the park avenue, then they slowly approached the bridge, passed over it, and a few minutes after there were steps upon the gravel drive, and, headed by Captain Norton, hat in hand, men bore softly into the great hall a hastily-contrived litter. Then, guided by McCray, the litter was borne into one of the nearest rooms, and slowly and in silence the men went out on tip-toe, leaving present only Brace Norton, his father, and the old major-domo.
No word was spoken, but McCray softly stole to the door and closed it, as, suddenly, Captain Norton fell upon his knees, resting his hands for a few moments upon the litter, covered as it was with a white sheet; and then, taking the hand stretched out to him by his son, he tottered from the room; and those who looked upon his pale face saw that great scar standing out plain and red, and that his eyes were wet with tears.
The weakness was but of a few minutes’ duration; and as they stood in the brightly-lighted hall once more, Captain Norton’s voice was sharp and short in its utterance, as he inquired of the state of Sir Murray Gernon.
“I left them bathing his face, sir,” said McCray; and he led the way into the nearly deserted dining-room, where, breathing stertorously, Sir Murray still lay; Jane McCray having been assisted to her own room.
“But ye no think there was foul play, sir?” whispered McCray to Brace Norton. And the young man shook his head, as, eagerly watching his fathers acts, he laid his hand upon the old steward’s lips.
For, going down upon one knee, Captain Norton threw more open the stricken man’s neck-band, raised his head slightly, and stayed for a few moments holding one of Sir Murray’s hands in his.
“Brace,” he said, in a low tone, as, alone now with the old steward, he looked up in his son’s face—“Brace, McCray, you know all from the first. Fate dealt hardly with us both; but at any time, I could have held out my hand to him, and said, you do me wrong. But, Heaven help him! for he has suffered much. He is more to be pitied than blamed!”
There was the sound of wheels upon the gravel once more, and Captain Norton rose to his feet, just as the door was hastily opened, and Dr Challen entered, raising his hands and eyes first to Captain Norton and then to Brace, as if exclaiming, “Good heavens, what a night!”