If there be faith in strong exercise, a deep potation, and bruised bones, I ought to have slept soundly,—and so I did; dreaming nevertheless of nuns and corsairs, smugglers and sacks, wild ducks, burgundy, bloodletting, and Heaven knows what besides, until a gentle touch upon the shoulder dispelled these troublous visions, and showed, by the misty light of a dull October morning, the well-remembered features of my kind and mysterious host, standing at my bedside.
“Have you rested well?” said the deep voice of Mr. Hartley, in the gracious tones it could occasionally assume.
“I have slept most soundly; and find myself so far recovered from bruise and battery, that I could”—
“Run anew the gauntlet as a gauger, and take the broken bridge, in stroke,” added mine host, with a smile.
“Well, we shall not put you to the test to-day; you must keep quiet; at least, so says Dominique, your leech. Do you wish to read? you will find books. Would you write? there are materials in the drawing-room. Would you shoot—swim—sail? Here are all facilities. Your mare is in my stable, your cloak-case honestly restored; and, as the stranger avowed who brought them hither, the steed uninjured and your effects untouched. I have received important letters, which for a few hours oblige me to leave home. Before supper you may count upon my return.”
I thanked him warmly for the kind manner in which he pressed my further stay, but hinted that the time was limited within which I must report myself at head-quarters.
“Yes, yes,” said he, “I know you must be in Dublin on the 24th; but this is only the 20th. I will send you off to-morrow,—sounder in bones, and safer in property, than when you honoured me with a visit.‘Tis scarcely six o’clock. Sleep till Dominique appears. Addio! One word more,—‘tis cautionary,—we were introduced but yesterday; to-day makes or mars our friendship!”
Before I could reply, he glided from the chamber, closed the door softly, and left me to sleep or wake, just as I pleased.
I felt little inclination to court the “drowsy influence” of my pillow; for the stranger’s parting words, like every thing about him, were a mystery. Accordingly, I rose, threw aside the curtains, and let as much light in as an overcast morning would admit through a lattice dimmed with mist and rain.
It was yet but seven, and some time must elapse before the family would be afoot. Out of doors, all looked cold and comfortless, and I was obliged to betake myself to bed again, and there await patiently the advent of my sable physician.