Part 12 (1/2)

”Hold your ---- tongue, he's coming to.”

Henry did recover his wits enough to speak; and what do you think was his first word?

He clasped his hands together, and said,--”MY MOTHER! OH, DON'T LET HER KNOW!”

This simple cry went through many a rough heart; a loud gulp or two were heard soon after, and more than one hard and coaly cheek was channeled by sudden tears. But now a burly figure came rolling in; they drew back and silenced each other.--”The Doctor!” This was the remarkable person they called Jack Doubleface. Nature had stuck a philosophic head, with finely-cut features, and a mouth brimful of finesse, on to a corpulent and ungraceful body, that yawed from side to side as he walked.

The man of art opened with two words. He looked up at the white cloud, which was now floating away; sniffed the air, and said, ”Gunpowder!”

Then he looked down at Little, and said, ”Ah!” half dryly, half sadly.

Indeed several sentences of meaning condensed themselves into that simple interjection. At this moment, some men, whom curiosity had drawn to Henry's forge, came back to say the forge had been blown up, and ”the bellows torn limb from jacket, and the room strewed with ashes.”

The doctor laid a podgy hand on the prisoner's wrist: the touch was light, though the fingers were thick and heavy. The pulse, which had been very low, was now galloping and bounding frightfully. ”Fetch him a gla.s.s of brandy-and-water,” said Dr. Amboyne. (There were still doctors in Hillsborough, though not in London, who would have had him bled on the spot.)

”Now, then, a surgeon! Which of you lads operates on the eye, in these works?”

A lanky file-cutter took a step forward. ”I am the one that takes the motes out of their eyes.”

”Then be good enough to show me his eye.”

The file-cutter put out a hand with fingers prodigiously long and thin, and deftly parted both Little's eyelids with his finger and thumb, so as to show the whole eye.

”Hum!” said the doctor, and shook his head.

He then patted the sufferer all over, and the result of that examination was satisfactory. Then came the brandy-and-water; and while Henry's teeth were clattering at the gla.s.s and he was trying to sip the liquid, Dr. Amboyne suddenly lifted his head, and took a keen survey of the countenances round him. He saw the general expression of pity on the rugged faces. He also observed one rough fellow who wore a strange wild look: the man seemed puzzled, scared, confused like one half awakened from some hideous dream. This was the grinder who had come into the works in place of the hand Cheetham had discharged for refusing to grind c.o.c.kney blades.

”Hum!” said Dr. Amboyne, and appeared to be going into a brown study.

But he shook that off, and said briskly, ”Now, then, what was his crime?

Did he owe some mutual aid society six-and-four-pence?”

”That's right,” said Reynolds, sullenly, ”throw every thing on the Union. If we knew who it was, he'd lie by the side of this one in less than a minute, and, happen, not get up again so soon.” A growl of a.s.sent confirmed the speaker's words. Cheetham interposed and drew Amboyne aside, and began to tell him who the man was and what the dispute; but Amboyne cut the latter explanation short. ”What,” said he, ”is this the carver whose work I saw up at Mr. Carden's?”

”This is the very man, no doubt.”

”Why, he's a sculptor: Praxiteles in wood. A fine choice they have made for their gunpowder, a workman that did honor to the town.”

A faint flush of gratified pride colored the ghastly cheek a moment.

”Doctor, shall I live to finish the bust?” said Henry, piteously.

”That and hundreds more, if you obey me. The fact is, Mr. Cheetham, this young man is not hurt, but his nerves have received a severe shock; and the sooner he is out of this place the better. Ah, there is my brougham at the gate. Come, put him into it, and I'll take him to the infirmary.”

”No,” said Little, ”I won't go there; my mother would hear of it.”

”Oh, then your mother is not to know?”

”Not for all the world! She has had trouble enough. I'll just wash my face and buy a clean s.h.i.+rt, and she'll never know what has happened. It would kill her. Oh, yes, it would kill her!”

The doctor eyed him with warm approval. ”You are a fine young fellow.