“As I was hurrying through the haugh,” replied Patrick, “my foot tripped in the twilight against something in the grass, and I was thrown forward, with so much force, that it is no wonder I was stunned.”
“Your head must have struck upon some sharp stone,” said Arthur Forbes, “that gash in your temple is a very ugly one, and it still bleeds considerably. Let me bathe it for you.”
“The ice-cold water is most reviving to me,” said Patrick, sitting up; “I am much better now. I think I am almost strong enough to walk.”
“Shall we help thee down to the Priest’s house?” demanded Arthur; “that, as thou knowest, is the nearest dwelling.”
“The Priest’s house!” said Patrick, with an expression of horror which he could not restrain.
“Nay ’tis no wonder that thou should’st shudder at the very mention of that reprobate,” said Arthur Forbes; “he is a scandal to the very name of Priest.”
“I would rather go anywhere than to the Priest’s house,” said Patrick Stewart.
“Nay,” said Arthur Forbes, “it is a thousand to one that we should find him abroad on some of his unseemly nocturnal pranks; but you might at least repose thee for a time in his dwelling.”
“I should find no repose under the Priest’s roof,” said Patrick Stewart quickly. “I would rather try to make the best of my way to Drummin.”
“Thou shalt never essay to go to Drummin to-night,” said Arthur Forbes. “And, now I think on’t, why should you not go over the hill with me to Curgarf? My sturdy fellows there shall carry you. And then, when you are there you know,” continued he, sinking his voice to a whisper into Patrick’s ear, “my sister Kate shall nurse thee.”