Sir Robert turned hastily round. He saw him sunk, like a beautiful
flower, bruised and trampled on by the foot of him who had given it
root. Unable to make any evasive reply to this last appeal of virtue
and of nature, he threw himself with a burst of tears upon his neck,
and exclaimed, "Wretch that I have been! Oh, Sobieski! I am thy
father. Dear, injured son of the too faithful Therese!"
The first words which carried this avowal to the heart of Thaddeus
deprived it of motion, and when Sir Robert expected to receive the
returning embrace of his son, he found him senseless in his arms.
The cries of the baronet brought Mr. Middleton and the servants into
the room. When the former saw the state of the count, and perceived
the agonized position of his patron, (who was supporting and leaning
over his son,) the honest man declared that he expected nothing less
from the gentleman's disobedience of his orders. The presence of the
servants having recalled Sir Robert's wandering faculties, he desired
them to remove the invalid with the greatest care back to his
chamber. Following them in silence, when they had laid their charge
on the bed, he watched in extreme but concealed suspense till Mr.
Middleton once more succeeded in restoring animation to his patient.
The moment the count unclosed his eyes, they fixed themselves on his
father. He drew the hand which held his to his lips.
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