"Then is the unfortunate man dead?" asked Bessy, in a low tone.
"No, no," I answered; "he is not dead, my dear cousin. I assure you, I did not intend to kill him; but he stood so, that it was almost impossible to prevent his injuring me without the risk of taking his own life. I think--I trust he may still recover." Bessy put her hands over her eyes, and sat silent; and I could not but remember what I had heard on the preceding day, that her father had fallen in an encounter of the same kind. Though Hope is a very persuasive angel, yet there is a certain little devil, lying hidden in some of the deep windings and turnings of the mind, which is always, with low-voiced cunning, suggesting something contrary to the flattering promises of the charmer. Even now he whispered,--
"Bessy finds a parity between the case of her father and that of this man. However she may dislike him--whatever may be her feelings towards me--some of her sympathies are enlisted on his side." I did not like the thought at all; but she sat quietly beside me, and did not seem to entertain the slightest thought of quitting the room.
"It strikes me," said Mr. Stringer, after a few unimportant inquiries, that there are altogether too many people here round a wounded man. Sir Richard does not seem to be losing much blood now, and some of us had better retire till the surgeon arrives, who, I find, has been sent for. Bessy--Miss Davenport--I think I must constitute you head nurse; for you know Mrs. Stringer's nerves are not equal to such scenes, and you have been brought up with more strength of character.
"I am as weak as a child," said Bessy, in a low tone; but then, instantly recovering herself, she added, in a gayer manner, "Well, I will undertake the task, and risk all sorts of ingratitude. You must not think me bold, Richard, if I come in and out at all times and seasons to see to my patient's progress--being my cousin too, I have a right. Your servant will stay with you, of course. Can't you have a bed, or a sofa, or something put up there for him, Mr. Stringer? I am going away just now to take some hartshorn, or some mint-julep, or some rye-whisky, or something--what would you recommend, gentlemen?--I have just found out that I have got some nerves, and am not quite so much accustomed to scenes of blood and slaughter as you are." It struck me that there was the slightest possible touch of bitterness in what she said; but I found afterwards that I was mistaken. Strong emotions, even of the tenderest kind, sometimes have recourse to hard words, and even to light jests, to hide themselves not only from the eyes of others, but also from the sight of those who feel them. Bessy, Mr. Byles, and Mr. Stringer quitted the room, leaving me with Zed and Mr. Wheatley. The latter, with great tact and good sense, chatted so calmly and cheerfully that the time seemed very short till Dr. Christy, the surgeon, quietly, and almost silently, entered the room. He did not wear creaking shoes, that besetting sin of medical men. His manner was all very calm and composed, without the slightest haste or bustle in his aspect, although I could judge from the perspiration on his forehead that he had ridden hard. After a few minutes' conversation on subjects barely relevant to my situation, he proceeded to examine my arm.
"The ball is still in," he said; "your muscle is very firm, Sir Richard, or they had not put powder enough in the pistol. However, we shall easily extract it, for it lies perfectly straight." He put me to a good deal of pain, however, though not for more than a few seconds; and then dropped the bullet into a basin of water. I thought it was all over; but he must needs probe the wound again, and then, shaking his head, observed,--
"There is something more, I am sorry to say. We must not leave anything extraneous in the wound, for fear of bad consequences hereafter. A moment more, and it will be all over. Whatever it is, I know its exact position." He then had recourse to the forceps again, and, in an instant, brought up a small splinter of bone, not bigger than an ordinary iron tack.
"That is unfortunate," he said; "the ball has just touched the bone, which may delay your recovery for some days, and will require you to keep quiet and be very cautious. Otherwise, the wound might heal almost with the first intention."
"I think first intentions are always best, doctor," said Mr. Wheatley; "although they say second thoughts are. However, my friend must submit to fate, like the rest of us, and I presume there is nothing dangerous about the wound."
"Nothing whatever," answered the surgeon, "if he is but prudent. I think, Sir Richard," he continued, "from what I have heard of your conduct on the field, it will be a satisfaction for you to know that there is a prospect of your antagonist recovering. He was brought to town at once, and I and my partner saw him. One was merely a flesh wound; the other was one of those curious wounds that we sometimes see, which, going close to several vital organs, leaves them all untouched. An inch further back would have sent the ball through his heart; an inch higher up would have carried it through one of the great vessels of the lungs. Neither were touched; and, though he must suffer for a long time, I think, from various indications, he will recover. And now, if I might advise you, you will go to bed; keep yourself as quiet as possible, and do not rise till I see you to-morrow. I will send you a draught to insure you a good night's rest and keep down fever. But you had better have somebody in the room with you, lest, in tossing about, the compress should get deranged and hemorrhage return." Thus saying, he left me. But I cannot pretend that I followed his instructions to the letter. I had a notion that Bessy would return to see me, and, therefore, I determined to sit up till she came. Nor was I disappointed. The surgeon had not been gone ten minutes when she knocked at the door; and appeared to have quite recovered from the shock of the morning.