“I am but fit for the hospital, and am like to be a heavy burden on your hands.”
“Tut, tut, man, never despair till the last shot is fired, and the garrison has hauled down its ensign in token of surrender. I had been a passable leech had I not rather cared to break heads than to mend them, whereby it seems to me the two trades are but complements the one of the other. In a day or two at the furthest you will be able to hold your own with any cut-throat rascal who cries for James Stuart. For that you may trust Ninian Macpherson.”
The old soldier had a good many sides to his character; as yet Gervase had only seen the praying and the fighting sides. He was now to see him as a loyal comrade, ready to cheer him with words of comfort; helpful as a brother, tender as a woman. In half an hour he had looked to his wound, which had opened afresh and bled considerably, had prepared a meal, and had stretched a bed for him along the hearth, which though rough and hard, was very acceptable in his present condition. Then Bayard was stabled at the further end of the building, and the day had already risen broad and clear with the singing of birds and the whisper of the soft spring wind, as Macpherson wrapped himself in his cloak and with his saddle under his head, gave himself up to sleep.
CHAPTER V.
OF A MAN´S MEMORY.
For upwards of a week Gervase was too ill to travel, though he rapidly recovered under the care that Macpherson bestowed upon him. No woman could have nursed him with more tenderness and solicitude. Every want that he had was anticipated, and during the tedium of the day the old soldier beguiled the time with stories of the camp and battle-field. He seemed to have no care or thought for his own comfort but waited assiduously on his wounded comrade with a simple kindness that touched Gervase deeply. The darker side of his character seemed to have disappeared completely; even his devotions he conducted in private, and it was only at Gervase´s request that he read from the little volume that he carried about with him continually.
They were left undisturbed in the farm-house, though they heard on two occasions the jingling of bridles, the clank of weapons, and the tramp of marching men upon the road, bound apparently for Londonderry; and upon one occasion they were upon the point of being discovered. Gervase was alone in the house when he heard the sound of voices without, and going to the window, he saw half a dozen dragoons drawing water from the well in the farm-yard. They evidently thought the house deserted, for they bestowed no attention upon it. At that moment Macpherson came swinging down the lane in the rear of the house, and was about to enter the yard when he caught sight of the steel head-pieces, and stopped short. Having filled their bottles, the fellows rejoined their comrades without suspecting the discovery they were on the point of making. Thereafter Macpherson was more careful, going out only when the twilight came down, and carefully avoiding the highway.
The chickens in the byre had gone the way of all flesh, and the cow in the meadow had been turned into wholesome beef, from which the old soldier concocted many a savoury stew. He was a rare hand at cooking, setting about the matter with sober and becoming earnestness, and mightily proud of his achievements therein. All the herbs of the field lent themselves to his purpose; he had studied their uses aforetime, and now he turned the knowledge to account. He knew something, too, of their medicinal qualities, and insisted with a solemn persistence on Gervase swallowing many nauseous draughts, which, indeed, the latter did rather from a feeling of good comradeship than from any liking for the dose. He greatly preferred the stories of Macpherson´s earlier days when he carried a halbert with Turenne, or one of the ballads--of which he had quite a store--which he crooned in a low tone with a solemn shaking of the head. They were all of battles, sieges, and warlike fortunes, and touched not at all upon the lighter passions. “Mary Ambree” was a great favourite of his, and another whose refrain ran thus:--
“Then be stout of heart when the field is set, and the smoke is hanging low,
And the pikeheads shine along the line to meet the advancing foe.”
But chiefly he preferred to sing from the psalms in Francis Rous´s version, especially those which speak of battle and vengeance, and the rugged metre and halting lines lost their homeliness, and were clothed with a fine vigour and glowed with inspired fervour as he followed the measure with the motion of his hand. So earnest he was, indeed, and so direct, with a touch of childlike simplicity, that Gervase was lost in continual wonder.