Volume Two—Chapter Six.
Red Ned.
At the time that Stormy was teaching, or rather receiving, that terrible lesson of manners, I was not in the village. I had gone some two or three miles up the river, to look after my miners at their work.
A messenger brought me the news; and, in breathless haste, I hurried homewards.
On arriving at the house where Stormy lived, I found him stretched upon his bed—with a doctor bending over him.
“Rowley, my boy, it’s all over with me,” said he. “The doctor says so; and for the first time in my life I believe one.”
“Stormy! Stormy! my friend, what has happened?” I asked, as across my soul swept a wave of anguish more painful than words can describe.
“Never mind any explanation now,” interrupted the doctor, turning to me, and speaking in a low voice. “Do not excite your friend, by making him converse. You can learn the particulars of his misfortune from some one else.”
The doctor was in the act of leaving; and, interpreting a sign he gave me, I followed him out. I was told by him, that Stormy had been stabbed, and that his wound would prove mortal. The man of medicine imparted some other details of the affair, which he had collected from the spectators who had witnessed it.
On parting from me, the surgeon gave me warning, that the wounded man might live two days—certainly not longer.