"And was not injured?"
"No; she was taken, it seems, from the wreck by a villain. Thank God, she has escaped his wiles!"
Henry's indignation could scarcely be controlled, even by the reflection that Maxwell's wicked intentions had been turned, by an overruling Providence, into the means of her safety.
Dr. Vaudelier related to his patient the incident of the wood-yard; not, however, without the necessity of frequently reproving his auditor, whose exasperation threatened serious consequences. When, at the conclusion of the narration, he told Henry that the loved one was at that moment beneath his roof, he could scarcely restrain his immoderate joy within the bounds of that quiet which his physician demanded.
"May I not see her?" said he.
"That must depend entirely upon your own behavior. You have not shown yourself a very tractable patient thus far."
"I will be perfectly docile," pleaded Henry.
"I fear I cannot trust you. You are so excitable, that you explode like a magazine of gunpowder."
"No, no; I solemnly promise to keep perfectly quiet. She will, I know, be glad to see me, wounded and stricken though I am."
"She has already seen you."