"You never told me so," cried Sir Roger, looking up at him angrily.
"Yes, indeed, sir, I told you that I hoped and trusted you would recover," answered the surgeon; "and one of my reasons for thinking so was the very pain you suffer; for, as his lordship very justly and wisely observes, wounds which--"
"But that damned parson," cried Sir Roger, "told me I should certainly die--a foul-mouthed, old, hooded crow!"
"What parson?" demanded the peer, in some surprise and dismay at the very idea of Sir Roger Millington being brought in contact in his dying hours with any one who might lead him on to dangerous disclosures; "what parson does he mean?"
"Oh, only good Dr. Edwards, my lord, the rector," answered the surgeon. "He came to give the gentleman religious consolation; but he did not exactly say that he would certainly die. He said that he would certainly die at some time; and that even, if he were spared at present, it would be better for him to turn his thoughts to serious things, so that, if he recovered, the wound might prove salutary to his mind at least."
"Yes, yes; but he thought, and he meant me to think, too," cried Sir Roger, "that I was dying, and that I could not recover. I knew well enough what he meant--the canting old crow; but I'll live, curse me if I do not, if it be but to pay those hellish gipsies for this torture to which they have put me. I beg your pardon, my lord, for being somewhat violent; but I am in agony, perfect agony."
"I grieve most deeply and sincerely, my dear friend, to see you suffer so much," answered the peer; "and I will take care that no such fanatical irritation be intruded upon you again. Dr. Edwards is a very good and well-intentioned man, I dare say; but I will not have a sick and wounded friend tormented for any rector on the face of the earth. In the mean time, however, I trust that this state of anguish is not likely to be of long endurance. What do you think, Mr. Swainstone? Can nothing be done to alleviate it?"
"I have done as much as I could, my lord, to effect that purpose," answered the surgeon, with a very significant shrug of the shoulders; "and I doubt not, in a few hours, the gentleman will feel the pain begin to subside."
"That is the best news I have heard from you yet, doctor," said the wounded man. "But do you not think you can extract the ball? I do not believe I shall be easier as long as that remains in me, burning like a coal."
"O yes, you will," answered the surgeon; "and it is necessary to let the first irritation subside, before I make the attempt again. Were I to try it now, it might increase all you suffer, and prolong it, perhaps, for many hours."