“Everything had been made as comfortable as possible, and the doctors had retired, leaving Ashton, the student, and Susan, the servant, to attend till morning.
“‘How is he getting on, Ashton?’ asked old Temple, noiselessly entering the room, and whispering.
“‘They didn’t say anything of importance; I only caught two or three words at parting.
“‘Desperate!’ said one.
“‘Yes; but not mortal, I think,’ added the other. ‘He is very young, tough, and strong, and will recover, I think.’
“‘Good news,’ responded Temple. ‘Let’s have a look at him.’
“And he took the candle and looked at the sleeper, who seemed to breathe freely, with his long hair thrown from his forehead, which was as pale as snow.
“‘Look you here, Ashton,’ went on the colonel, drawing his chair very close, and speaking in whispers, ‘this was a foul piece of work, and there must have been some reason for it. You are his friend; you and he have associated for years. Can you guess the person or the cause of all this?’
“‘It is a difficult matter to say. I have very good reasons to suppose it was premeditated; but by whom I cannot imagine.’
“‘You seem to speak mysteriously. Why not talk plainly?’