At the mention of the gown she flew to a wardrobe and produced the necessary article with a palpitating suddenness; whilst I threw off my cloak and ordered Mrs. Polly to remove the present bloodied bodice that I wore, heedless of wounds and other mortal things of that sort.
“Blood! oh, it’s blood, my lady!” cries Mrs. Polly Emblem; and her frightened face was mottled white and red, the very pattern of my linen, with the gory spots upon it. “Oh, you are hurt, my lady! You are dreadfully hurt, I’m certain!”
“Never you mind that,” says I with a very Spartan air; “but just put me in that bodice, and tell me, for your life, whether ’twill conceal this wound or whether ’twill not. For if it doth expose the scar,” I announced in a manner highly tragical, while the tears gathered in my eyes, “the reign of my Lady Barbarity is over.”
“Even if it does,” says Emblem, “we may powder and enamel it, my lady.”
“Psha!” cries I, “there is all the difference in the world betwixt a scar and a bad complexion. Art can never obliterate a scar.” And here I began to bite my handkerchief in pieces, being no longer able to contain myself.
The ensuing minute was one of the most awful of my life. It seemed as though Emblem—trembling wretch!—would never get that bodice on; but, to do her justice in this affair, and to act kindly towards her character, I must admit that she betrayed a very proper instinct in this matter. That is to say, she was as desperately seized as ever was her mistress with the fear that my peerless shoulders were torn in such a fashion that a low dress would be inadequate to hide their mutilation.
Happily, the pistol-ball had simply run along the skin and had slit it open for an inch or two, quite low down in the shoulder-blade—a mere scratch, in fact, that let out very little blood. Thus we managed to get one garment off and the other on, both easily and painlessly. Then ’twas that Emblem clapped her hands, and gave a cry of joy.
“It covers it, your la’ship, by a full two inches,” she exclaimed.
“You are sure of that?” cries I, in a tremor of excitement. “There must be no mistake about it, now. Bring me a mirror here that I may see it for myself.”
This she did, and, though the disturbed wound was smarting horribly, I paid no attention to it until I was assured that its position was even as Mrs. Polly Emblem said. To describe the relief that my mind immediately experienced would be impossible.