"I should think not," said the invalid, his words so forced from between his teeth that his interlocutor, had he been less absorbed in his own calculations, must have noticed the difference from his usual manner.
"Richard Crawford, you are beginning to wake, for you know that man is lying—I see it by your eyes!" was the comment of the young girl, this time.
"I am going to West Falls again in a few days—that is, if we do not get orders for Washington," continued the Colonel; "and if I have your permission—as you are not likely to be well enough to go out even by that time—I shall speak to both on the subject, as it would be the world's pity if you should be thrown out of so fine a property and the possession of a girl who I believe once loved you, by false reports, or—"
"False reports? eh? who should have circulated false reports?" asked the invalid, his face firing for a moment and his voice temporarily under less command. But the momentary flush passed away, and it was only with the querulous voice and petulant manner of sickness that he concluded: "Eh, well, no matter; we will see about all that by-and-by, when I get well."
"That is right—I am glad to hear you speak so hopefully," said the Colonel. "All will be right, no doubt, when you get well." Did he or did he not lay a peculiar stress on the two words, as the old jokers used to do on a few others when they informed the boys that the statue of St. Paul, in the niche in the front of St. Paul's church, always came down and took a drink of water from the nearest pump, when it heard the clock strike twelve? If there was such an emphasis, did Richard Crawford hear and recognize it? That some one else in the immediate vicinity did, and duly commented upon it, is beyond a question.
"You must modulate your voice better than that, Colonel Egbert Crawford, before you go on the stage!" said the wild girl. "You think he is dying—you mean he shall die—I have an impression that I did not come here for nothing, after all!"
"And now," said the Colonel, rising, and taking out his watch, "I must leave you. We have a recruiting meeting at —— Hall at six, and I must be there without fail. Oh," as if suddenly recollecting something comparatively unimportant, that had been overlooked in the pressure of more interesting matter—"I had nearly forgotten. Your bandage—is it all right? I hope the Doctor and Bell have not found out the secret, so as to laugh at what they would call our superstition. Shall I renew it? I believe I have some of the preparation in one or another of my pockets," feeling in one and then another, as if doubtful. "Ah, here it is," and he took out from one of his pockets which he had hurriedly gone over with his hands at least half a dozen of times, a small black box, four or five inches in length and perhaps two in width by an inch deep.
Were Josephine Harris' eyes playing fantastic tricks with her on that occasion; or did she see, as that little black box met the view, a momentary repetition of the suffering spasm which had crossed the face of Richard Crawford half an hour before, when she first suggested a conflict of interests between them? At all events the spasm, if such it was, passed away, and he merely answered, languidly:
"Yes, thank you, Egbert—yes, if you please."
At this stage of the proceedings, had Josephine Harris been a "real lady," or had she possessed any well-defined sense of "propriety," she would have left her post of observation on the instant. For though the Colonel was partially between her and the patient, she saw him open the little black box, take out a broad knife from his vest pocket, and then proceed to other operations very improper for a young lady to witness. She saw Richard Crawford unbutton his vest, a little assisted by the Colonel. What followed she could not see, very fortunately. All that she could make out, was that some sort of narrow white bandage seemed to have been removed from the breast or stomach of the invalid—that the Colonel took out a dark paste from the box with his knife, spread a portion of it on the opened bandage, then re-folded it and assisted in replacing it on the breast or stomach and re-arranging the disordered clothing. This done, and the box put back into his pocket, he took his cap and stooped down to shake hands with Richard; whereupon Josephine, knowing that his way out would be through the parlor, shoved the two doors together by a silent but very nervous movement, and managed to escape from the room as silently, before the Colonel's hand had yet been laid upon the glass door to open it.