Chapter 13 - Page 2

seemed to have put upon this mysterious hurt. The traveller
closed his eyes, and submitted to the manipulations of the professional
person, painful as they were, assisted by the gentle touch of the old
palmer; and there was something in the way in which he resigned himself
that met the approbation of the surgeon, in spite of a little fever,
and slight delirium too, to judge by his eye.

"A very quiet and well-behaved patient," said he to the palmer. "Unless
I greatly mistake, he has been under the surgeon's hand for a similar
hurt ere now. He has learned under good discipline how to take such a
thing easily. Yes, yes; just here is a mark where a bullet went in some
time ago,--three or four years since, when he could have been little
more than a boy. A wild fellow this, I doubt."

"It was an Indian bullet," said the patient, still fancying himself
gone astray into the past, "shot at me in battle; 'twas three hundred
years hereafter."

"Ah! he has served in the East Indies," said the surgeon. "I thought
this sun-burned cheek had taken its hue elsewhere than in England."

The patient did not care to take the trouble which would have been
involved in correcting the surgeon's surmise; so he let it pass, and
patiently awaited the end of the examination, with only a moan or two,
which seemed rather pleasing and desirable than otherwise to the
surgeon's ear.

"He has vitality enough for his needs," said he, nodding to the palmer.
"These groans betoken a good degree of pain; though the young fellow is
evidently a self-contained sort of nature, and does not let us know all
he feels. It promises well, however; keep him in bed and quiet, and
within a day or two we shall see."

He wrote a recipe, or two or three, perhaps, (for in those days the
medical fraternity had faith in their own art,) and took his leave.

The white-bearded palmer withdrew into the half concealment of the
oratory which we have already mentioned, and then, putting on a pair of
spectacles, betook himself to the perusal of an old folio volume, the
leaves of which he turned over so gently that not the slightest sound
could possibly disturb the patient. All his manifestations were gentle
and soft, but of a simplicity most unlike the feline softness which we
are apt to associate with a noiseless tread and movement in the male
sex. The sunshine came through the ivy and glimmered upon his great
book, however, with an effect which a little disturbed the patient's
nerves; besides, he desired to have a fuller view of his benign
guardian.

"Will you sit nearer the bedside?" said he. "I wish to look at you."

Weakness, the