Part 33 (2/2)

”He will bear moving now,” said Ellis quickly, ”but you must find something to lay him upon; take that gate off its hinges, some of you fellows--that will answer the purpose capitally. Come, bestir yourselves; every moment is of importance.”

Thus urged, five or six st.u.r.dy labourers, who had been standing round, gazing with countenances of rude but sincere commiseration on the wounded man (for Harry's kind-heartedness and liberality made him very popular amongst the tenantry), started off, and returned in an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time with the gate; upon this were spread our coats and waistcoats, so as to form a tolerably convenient couch, upon which, under Ellis's direction, we lifted with the greatest caution the still insensible form of Harry Oaklands.

”Now,” exclaimed Ellis, ”raise him very slowly on your shoulders, and take care to step together, so as not to jolt him;--if the bleeding should break out again, the whole College of Surgeons could not save him. Where's the nearest house he can be taken to? He'll never last out till we reach the Hall.”

”Take him to our cottage,” said I eagerly; ”it is more than half a mile nearer than the Hall.”

”But your mother and sister?” asked Archer.

”Of course it will be a great shock to them,” replied I; ”but I know them both well enough to feel sure they would not hesitate a moment when Harry's life was in -219--the balance. Do you want me for anything, or shall I go on and prepare them for your arrival?”

”Do so, by all means,” replied Ellis; ”but stay--have you a bedroom on the ground-floor?”

”Yes,” returned I, ”my own.”

”Get the bed-clothes open,” continued Ellis, ”so that we can put him in at once; it will save me half an hour's time afterwards, and is a thing which should always be thought of on these occasions.”

”Anything else?” inquired I.

”Yes, send somebody for the nearest surgeon; two heads are better than one,” said Ellis.

Remembering, as I approached the cottage, that the window of my room by which Archer and I had quitted it the previous night would be unfastened, I determined I would enter there, and, proceeding to my mother's door, call her up, and break the news as gently as the exigency of the case would permit, leaving her to act by f.a.n.n.y as she should think best. Accordingly, I flung up the window, sprang in, and, throwing myself on the nearest chair, sat for a moment, panting from the speed at which I had come. As I did so, a timid knock was heard at the door. I instinctively cried, ”Come in!” and f.a.n.n.y entered.

”I have been so anxious all night about what you told me yesterday, that I could not sleep, so I thought I would come to see if you were up,” she commenced; then, for the first time remarking my breathless condition and disordered dress, she exclaimed, ”Good Heavens! are you ill?

you pant for breath, and your hands and the sleeves of your coat are saturated with water--with--oh! it is blood; you are wounded!” she cried, sinking in a chair, and turning as pale as ashes.

”Indeed, darling, you are alarming yourself unnecessarily; I am perfectly uninjured,” replied I soothingly.

”Something dreadful has happened!” she continued, fixing her eyes upon me; ”I read it in your face.”

”An accident has occurred,” I began; ”Oaklands----”

”Stop!” she exclaimed, interrupting me, ”the two shots I heard but now--his agitation--his strange manner yesterday--oh! I see it all; he has been fighting a duel.” She paused, pressed her hands upon her eyes, as if to shut out some dreadful vision, and then asked, in a low, broken voice, ”Is he killed?”

”No,” replied I, ”on my word, on my honour, I a.s.sure you he is not; the bleeding had ceased when I left him, which is a very favourable symptom.”

-220--f.a.n.n.y sighed heavily, as if relieved from some unbearable weight, and, after remaining silent for about a minute, she removed her hands from her face, and said, in a calm tone of voice:--

”And now, what is to be done? can I be of any use?”

Astonished at the rapidity with which she had regained her self-control and presence of mind after the violent emotion she had so recently displayed, I replied:--

”Yes, love, you can, the Hall is too far off, and they are bringing him here”.

As I spoke these words she shuddered slightly, but seeing I was doubtful whether to proceed, she said, ”Go on, pray”.

”Would you,” I continued, ”break this to my mother, and tell her I believe--that is, I trust--there is no great danger--and--and--do that first.”

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