You must hear what concerns your son."
"I have disowned the young man who was my son," replied he
coldly.
"The Dover coach has been overturned," said Mr. Benson,
stimulated into abruptness by the icy sternness of the father.
But, in a flash, he saw what lay below that terrible assumption
of indifference. Mr. Bradshaw glanced up in his face one look of
agony--and then went grey-pale; so livid that Mr. Benson got up
to ring the bell in affright, but Mr. Bradshaw motioned to him to
sit still.
"Oh! I have been too sudden, sir--he is alive, he is alive!" he
exclaimed, as he saw the ashy face working in a vain attempt to
speak; but the poor lips (so wooden, not a minute ago) went
working on and on, as if Mr. Benson's words did not sink down
into the mind, or reach the understanding. Mr. Benson went
hastily for Mrs. Farquhar.
"Oh, Jemima!" said he, "I have done it so badly--I have been so
cruel--he is very ill, I fear--bring water, brandy----" and he
returned with all speed into the room. Mr. Bradshaw--the great,
strong, iron man--lay back in his chair in a swoon, a fit.
"Fetch my mother, Mary. Send for the doctor, Elizabeth," said
Jemima, rushing to her father. She and Mr. Benson did all in
their power to restore him. Mrs. Bradshaw forgot all her vows of
estrangement from the dead-like husband, who might never speak to
her, or hear her again, and bitterly accused herself for every
angry word she had spoken against him during these last few
miserable days.
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