“Here, dear love, by your side.”
“My head!” panted the poor fellow. “I’m frightened. What does it mean? Why do you all stare at me like that? Here! what’s the matter? Have I had a dream?”
“He calm, old fellow,” said the doctor. “You’re all right now.”
“Catch hold of my hand, Kate,” he cried, drawing in his breath with a hiss. “There’s something wrong with—here—the back of my neck, and my head throbs terribly. Here! Have I been overboard? Why don’t you speak?”
“Scarlett, old fellow, be calm,” said the doctor firmly. “There; that’s better.”
“Yes; I’ll lie still. What a frightful headache! But tell me what it all means.—Ah! I remember now. The oar broke, and I went under. I was beaten down.—Jack—Kate, dear—do you hear me?”
“Yes, yes, dear love; yes, yes,” whispered Lady Scarlett, placing her arm round his neck and drawing his head upon her breast. “It was a nasty accident; but you are quite safe now.”
“Safe? Am I safe?” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s right, dear; hold me—tightly now.” He closed his eyes and shuddered, while Lady Scarlett gazed imploringly in the doctor’s face.
“The shock to his nerves,” he said quietly. “A bit upset; but he’ll be all right soon;” and as he spoke, the doctor laid his hand upon his friend’s pulse.
Scarlett uttered a piercing cry, starting and gazing wildly at his old companion. “Oh! It was you,” he panted, and he closed his eyes again, clinging tightly to his wife, as he whispered softly, “Don’t leave me, dear—don’t leave me.”