The House by the Church-Yard

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

'Stabbed anywhere—or gunshot wound?' demanded Sturk.

'Nothing of the kind, Sir, upon my honour.'

'You think—I have a chance?' and Sturk's cadaverous face was moist with the dews of an awful suspense.

'Chance,' said Toole, in an encouraging tone, 'well, I suppose you have, Sir—ha, ha! But, you know, you must not tire yourself, and we hope to have you on your legs again, Sir, in a reasonable time.'

'I'm very bad—the sight's affected,' groaned Sturk.

'See, Sir, you tire yourself to no purpose. You're in good hands, Sir—and all will go well—as we expect—Pell has been with you twice—'

'H'm! Pell—that's good.'

'And you're going on mighty well, Sir, especially to-night.'

'Doctor, upon your honour, have I a chance?'

'You have, Sir,—certainly—yes—upon my honour.'