Monteath could not answer him.
Charles rang for a light. It was brought, and Monteath asked what o’clock it was. It was near eleven. “No more!” said he, and he enquired how soon his father and mother could be with him. Charles thought in four or five hours, and he told his friend that if he would be prevailed on to take a little refreshment, he thought he might sleep again.
“O, no, do not ask me to move,” replied Monteath.
“You need not move,” replied Charles. “I will give it you, while you lie still: but indeed you need it.”
“I will,” said Monteath. “But have you been beside me all this time, without any refreshment? You must be quite exhausted. Pray go down and have some supper: I shall not want you just now: why did you not leave me?”
Charles, though little inclined to eat, consented to have some supper brought up, but he would not leave his friend. He asked Monteath if he had not enjoyed his repose.
“It was a great rest,” was the reply; “but I believe I have had my poor mother in my mind almost all the time. I am afraid she is more unhappy than I am at this moment.”
“But when she hears that you have slept, and when she sees you able to speak, and even to comfort her, as I think you will, she will be relieved.”
“They will have Mr Everett with them,” said Monteath, “and he is a kind and judicious friend. It is he who must free me from this pain,” added he. “I hope I shall not hate him for the office, as I have heard that some people hate their surgeons, in spite of themselves.”
“No fear of that,” said Charles.