"You must, of course, have your own ideas from what you have already heard," replied Mrs Austin, in a calm tone; "but, as I have already said, my lips on that subject are sealed. What I wish you to do, Mary, is not at first to let him know that I am interested about him, or even that I know anything about him. Make all the inquiries you can as to what is likely to be the issue of the affair, and, when you have seen him, you must then come back and tell me all that he says, and all that has taken place." "I will, madam." "You had better go away early tomorrow; one of the grooms shall drive you over to meet the coach which runs to Exeter. While I think of it, take my purse, and do not spare it, Mary; for money must not be thought of now. I am very unwell, and must go to bed." "I had better bring up the tray, madam; a mouthful and a glass of wine will be of service to you." "Do so, dear Mary; I feel very faint." As soon as Mrs Austin had taken some refreshment, she entered again into conversation with Mary, asking her a hundred questions about her son. Mary, who had now nothing to conceal, answered freely; and when Mary wished her good night, Mrs Austin was more than ever convinced that her boy's rectitude of principle would have made him an ornament to society. Then came the bitter feeling that he was about to sacrifice himself; that he would be condemned as a felon, disgraced, and perhaps executed; and as she turned on her restless pillow, she exclaimed, "Thank God that he is innocent--his poor father suffers more." CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. IN WHICH MARY MAKES A DISCOVERY OF WHAT HAS BEEN LONG KNOWN TO THE READER. It was hardly ten o'clock on the second morning when Mary arrived at Exeter, and proceeded to the gaol. Her eyes were directed to the outside of the massive building, and her cheeks blanched when she viewed the chains and fetters over the entrance, so truly designating the purport of the structure. There were several people at the steps and in the passage, making inquiries, and demanding permission of the turnkey to visit the prisoners; and Mary had to wait some minutes before she could make her request. Her appearance was so different to the usual class of applicants, that the turnkey looked at her with some surprise. "Whom do you wish to see?" inquired the man, for Mary's voice had faltered. "Joseph Rushbrook, my brother," repeated Mary. At this moment the head gaoler came to the wicket. "She wishes to see her brother, young Rushbrook," said the turnkey. "Yes, certainly," replied the gaoler; "walk in, and sit down in the parlour for a little while, till I can send a man with you."