Well, that Evening was spent betwixt laughing and crying—scolding Tib, and Tib's saying she must leave, and Mistress Fraunces saying no one would take her with such a Character as she must give her; and then my Master interfering and saying she must go for a While at least, to her Friends, till he could endure the Sight of her, and then Tib crying and saying she had got no Friends, and his relenting and saying, Well, then she must stay till she could get another Place, and keep out of his Sight all she could, and never do so any more. Then came Supper, I waiting on my Master, and Mistress Anne nestled in his Arms in a warm Wrapper, for she said if she went to Bed she should dream of falling into the Water. And my Master liked to feel he had her safe, and she and I exchanged many fond Looks; and we grew merry. For Master Hewet filled me a Cup from a long, narrow-necked Bottle of some marvellous pleasant Wine, and Mistress Fraunces helped us all round to a Cake that had ne'er its like for Richness; and there were People dropping in to inquire, and bewail, and felicitate. So the Bottle was soon emptied; and when I went to Bed, my Head was in a Maze, and my Temples beating like Blacksmiths' Hammers. As for Sleep!—whenever it came nigh me, bang went mine Head against the Water!—and I rose up with a great Start. While, as long as I lay awake, I heard (and saw too, with mine Eyes ever so close shut), People cheering and crying and casting Ropes, and leaning out of Lattices, and rowing Boats that made no Way; and felt Anne's Arm slipping from my Neck, and I with no Strength to hold her; and, through and above all, the great Bell of St. Magnus clanging and tolling, through the livelong Night.
But, what was very marvellous, when Morning came at last, and, I suppose, I awoke, though it seemed me I had never fallen on Sleep, ... there was I, not in the Loft, but in the Green Lattice Chamber, lying on that beautiful Bed I thought fit for the Sleeping Beauty! And there was a Chirurgeon with a Lancet in his Hand, and there were Basins and Bandages, and my left Arm was stiffened, and I felt very weak. Mistress Fraunces had her Arm aneath mine Head, and my Master, with his grave, kind Face, stood a-foot of the Bed. And, to my great Surprise, I heard Twelve o' the Clock striking on the Bell of St. Magnus, and, I think, every other Clock in London, my Hearing seemed so tender; and the Phlebotomist sayth, "He'll do, now.—Next Time you leap from such a height, my Boy, clasp thine Hands a-top of thine Head. Howbeit, you will now soon get well."
—But oh! I did not soon get well. For I wot not what had come over me, ... none of us ever could rightly tell, ... whether the sudden Chill after being so hot, or the Plunge from so great an Height, or the Turn of my Blood with Fright at seeing Anne fall in, ... but as soon as ever I essayed to arise and dress, my Master and Tomkins being by, I began tumbling about and could neither hear nor see; leastwise Nothing that was really to be seen and heard. And with such fearsome Pains in my Head! So hot, and yet so cold! Such Thirst, and such loathing of Food!
In short, I was sick nigh to Death of what the Leeches call Brain Fever. Thereon the Kindness I received is past all telling. Mistress Fraunces seemed never out of Sight. Also Tib was very handy and officious, never minding climbing ever so many Stairs. And Miles did the odd Work for all, spake under his Voice, and went about without his Shoes. At dead o' Night, I sometimes saw my Master at the Bed-foot, reading his Tyndal's Testament, (one o' the few that scaped burning,) with the Lamp shaded so as not to shine into mine Eyes. At other Times, Tomkins. But his Book was never the Testament.
One Night, when the latter was with me alone, I said suddenly, "Tomkins! the Night is far spent, the Day is at Hand!" ... "No, Lad," quod he, "it wants many Hours yet to Day. It hath but just struck eleven." "Ah, but," quod I, "those Words I used are Scripture, I think, for I heard Master Hewet, as he sate a-reading, whisper them over to himself. Do look out for them, will you, that I may know I was not dreaming. They worry me."
Tomkins did not much like the Talk; howbeit, he laid down his own Book, and turned over the other.
"I don't see them," quod he.
"How can you, in the Dark?" quod I.
"I'm not in the Dark!" quod he.
"Well then," quod I, turning on my Pillow restlessly, "I suppose I am. I thought you had been, but peradventure I'm wandering again."