Charles related how the youth had endeavoured to stop the horses.
“He indeed shewed self-command,” said the good man, “and I am afraid he will have occasion to exercise all his resolution. I have no hope that that leg can be cured; but I hope his life is not in danger!”
“Can you,” said Charles, “give me any directions respecting his treatment? Is there any thing to be done besides making him as easy as I can?”
“Nothing, that I am aware of,” replied the Quaker. “I think thou wilt not have much need of thy purse for these few hours, or I would ask thee whether it is well filled?”
Charles thanked him, and assured him that no assistance of that kind was wanted.
By this time they had reached the public-house, and the young man was soon laid on a bed, in a decent though not very quiet apartment. On enquiry being made, it was found that no chaises were to be had there, but that a return chaise would probably pass very soon. The ladies were so incapable, one from pain, the other from terror, of judging what was best to be done, that the Quaker gentleman decided every thing for them. He directed the lady’s arm to be bathed and hung in a sling, and advised them to accompany him in the chaise to Exeter, as soon as it should pass. Charles meanwhile was sitting by the bedside of the injured man, trying to ascertain the necessary particulars of his name, place of residence, etcetera. He was now able to speak, and said his name was Monteath, that his father and mother lived in — Street, Exeter, and that Mr Everett was the surgeon whom he wished to attend him. He said, “Are you going directly? must you leave me now?”
“I shall not leave you till your friends arrive,” replied Charles. “Some of our fellow-passengers will carry our message to Exeter.”
“Thank you! God bless you!” were the only words in answer. Presently he said, “Who are you? You have not told me your name.”
Charles told his name.
“Forsyth!” exclaimed Mr Monteath; “surely you are the brother of Miss Forsyth, whom I have seen at Mr Everett’s!”