"Never mind that. See to the wound, please, while I run for bandages, and salts, and wine."Miss Muir was gone as she spoke, so fleetly that it was in vain to call her back or catch her. During her brief absence, the story was told by repentant Ned and the wound examined.
"Fortunately I have my case of instruments with me,"said the doctor, spreading on the bench a long array of tiny, glittering implements of torture. "Now, Mr. Ned, come here, and hold the arm in that way, while I tie the artery. Hey! That will never do. Don't tremble so, man, look away and hold it steadily.""I can't!" And poor Ned turned faint and white, not at the sight but with the bitter thought that he had longed to kill his brother.
"I will hold it," and a slender white hand lifted the bare and bloody arm so firmly, steadily, that Coventry sighed a sigh of relief, and Doctor Scott fell to work with an emphatic nod of approval.
It was soon over, and while Edward ran in to bid the servants beware of alarming their mistress, Doctor Scott put up his instruments and Miss Muir used salts, water, and wine so skillfully that Gerald was able to walk to his room, leaning on the old man, while the girl supported the wounded arm, as no sling could be made on the spot.
As he entered the chamber, Coventry turned, put out his left hand and with much feeling in his fine eyes said simply, "Miss Muir, I thank you."The color came up beautifully in her pale cheeks as she pressed the hand and without a word vanished from the room. Lucia and the housekeeper came bustling in, and there was no lack of attendance on the invalid. He soon wearied of it, and sent them all away but Ned, who remorsefully haunted the chamber, looking like a comely young Cain and feeling like an outcast.
"Come here, lad, and tell me all about it. I was wrong to be domineering. Forgive me, and believe that I care for your happiness more sincerely than for my own."These frank and friendly words healed the breach between the two brothers and completely conquered Ned. Gladly did he relate his love passages, for no young lover ever tires of that amusement if he has a sympathizing auditor, and Gerald was sympathetic now. For an hour did he lie listening patiently to the history of the growth of his brother's passion. Emotion gave the narrator eloquence, and Jean Muir's character was painted in glowing colors. All her unsuspected kindness to those about her was dwelt upon; all her faithful care, her sisterly interest in Bella, her gentle attentions to their mother, her sweet forbearance with Lucia, who plainly showed her dislike, and most of all, her friendly counsel, sympathy, and regard for Ned himself.
"She would make a man of me. She puts strength and courage into me as no one else can. She is unlike any girl I ever saw;there's no sentimentality about her; she is wise, and kind, and sweet.
She says what she means, looks you straight in the eye, and is as true as steel. I've tried her, I know her, and -- ah, Gerald, I love her so!"Here the poor lad leaned his face into his hands and sighed a sigh that made his brother's heart ache.
"Upon my soul, Ned, I feel for you; and if there was no obstacle on her part, I'd do my best for you. She loves Sydney, and so there is nothing for it but to bear your fate like a man.""Are you sure about Sydney? May it not be some one else?" and Ned eyed his brother with a suspicious look.
Coventry told him all he knew and surmised concerning his friend, not forgetting the letter. Edward mused a moment, then seemed relieved, and said frankly, "I'm glad it's Sydney and not you. I can bear it better.""Me!" ejaculated Gerald, with a laugh.
"Yes, you; I've been tormented lately with a fear that you cared for her, or rather, she for you.""You jealous young fool! We never see or speak to one another; scarcely, so how could we get up a tender interest?""What do you lounge about on that terrace for every evening? And why does she get fluttered when your shadow begins to come and go?" demanded Edward.
"I like the music and don't care for the society of the singer, that's why I walk there. The fluttering is all your imagination;Miss Muir isn't a woman to be fluttered by a man's shadow." And Coventry glanced at his useless arm.
"Thank you for that, and for not saying 'little Muir,'
as you generally do. Perhaps it was my imagination. But she never makes fun of you now, and so I fancied she might have lost her heart to the 'young master.' Women often do, you know.""She used to ridicule me, did she?" asked Coventry, taking no notice of the latter part of his brother's speech, which was quite true nevertheless.
"Not exactly, she was too well-bred for that. But sometimes when Bella and I joked about you, she'd say something so odd or witty that it was irresistible. You're used to being laughed at, so you don't mind, I know, just among ourselves.""Not I. Laugh away as much as you like," said Gerald.
But he did mind, and wanted exceedingly to know what Miss Muir had said, yet was too proud to ask. He turned restlessly and uttered a sigh of pain.
"I'm talking too much; it's bad for you. Doctor Scott said you must be quiet. Now go to sleep, if you can."Edward left the bedside but not the room, for he would let no one take his place. Coventry tried to sleep, found it impossible, and after a restless hour called his brother back.
