Why, what is this? he has been cupped!" And Sampson changed
colour and his countenance fell.
Mrs. Dodd saw and began to tremble. "I could not hear from you; and Dr.
Short and Mr. Osmond felt quite sure: and he seems better. Oh, Dr.
Sampson, why were you not here? We have bled him as well. Oh, don't,
don't, don't say it was wrong! He would have died; they said so. Oh,
David! David! your wife has killed you." And she knelt and kissed his
hand and implored his pardon, insensible.
Julia clung sobbing to her mother, in a vain attempt to comfort her.
Sampson groaned.
"No, no," said he: "don't go on so, my poor soul; you did all for the
best; and now we must make the best of what is done. Hartshorn! brandy!
and caution! For those two assassins have tied my hands."
While applying these timid remedies, he inquired if the cause was known.
They told him they knew nothing; but that David had been wrecked on the
coast of France, and had fallen down senseless in the street: a clerk of
Mr. Hardie's had recognised him, and brought him home: so Alfred said.
"Then the cause is mintil," said Sampson, "unless he got a blow on the
hid in bein' wrecked.
Pages:
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501