The doctor, producing a silver case of lancets, proposed bleeding, a course to which Ronald stoutly objected, saying that he felt weak enough already. He was therefore fain to content himself with leaving directions for the preparation of an enormous poultice, and a diet of broth and barley-water. He then took his leave, saying that he had more than a hundred patients on his list, and should be totally unable to call for two days at least; but desired Allan Warristoun, Ronald's servant, to come every evening, and report how his master was. The doctor's prescription gave Ronald considerable relief, notwithstanding the throwing out of window of a considerable portion of the ingredients, and the discussion, with infinite relish, of certain delicacies which, after a few days, were brought to his bedside by the kind old widow Vandergroot.
Converting Warristoun's knapsack into a desk, Ronald sat, propped up in bed, writing a letter for Alice, and another for Lochisla, for he was still ignorant of the change which had taken place there, when Sister Antoinette, entering lightly and softly, stole to his side. Her gentle hand was on his shoulder, and her soft eyes were beaming on his, almost before he was aware of her presence. Her silken hood had fallen back, and revealed her fine glossy hair,—all, save the long stray ringlet, beautifully braided like a coronet around her head. Her order were not robbed of their flowing tresses on taking their vow upon them.
Ronald tossed the knapsack upon the carpet, and caught her hand with an exclamation of pleasure. She permitted him to retain his hold for a moment. He would have spoken, but she placed her finger on his lips, and again told him that she was his nurse, and that he "must not speak." The finger belonged to a very pretty hand, though it was unadorned by ring or bracelet; and, taking it again within his own, he ventured to kiss it. The sister drew back instantly, and blushed crimson; but not with displeasure, for she seemed too amiable and gentle a creature to be easily offended.
"I have brought you three books, monsieur."
"A thousand thanks, my dear little sister!" said he, as she produced the volumes from a small reticule, which she carried under the skirt of her long cape. "How very attentive of you! I am always so dull when you are absent."
"I had them, monsieur, from an aged Reposante of our order, who in time has amassed quite a little library of her own."
"A French Bible," said Ronald, laying aside the first with an air of disappointment. "What next? 'The holy Doings of the good Sisters of St. Martha.' And the next? 'Rules of the Servantes des Pauvres de Charité! By Jove! my dear Antoinette, these books won't do for me, I fear."
"They are very good books, monsieur," said she modestly. "I am sorry you are displeased."
"Ma belle Antoinette, I thank you not the less, believe me; but if any of my brother-officers were to pop in and find me reading them, I should never hear the end of it, and two or three duels would scarcely keep the mess in order."
"I am sorry for it. But if you will not read them yourself, I will; and if any of your wild Scottish officers come in, let them laugh at me if they dare."