When we approached the little semicircle of huts which I have described before, and in which poor Aunt Bab's negroes were lodged, there appeared no crowd round any of the doors, such as I had seen there on a preceding visit. On the contrary, all was now still and silent; and I could not but fear that the wounded man was dead. Mr. Thornton, however, judged better.

"Oh, no!" he answered, when I expressed my apprehension; "they are most likely out in the field. If he were dead, you would hear noise enough. It is only with people educated to control their feelings that grief is silent. With these poor childlike creatures it is always noisy. But there is a horse's head between two of the huts. Perhaps Christy is with him." So it proved. The good surgeon was there, seated on a little stool by the poor man's side, with his fingers on the pulse, and his eyes half closed, almost as if he were dosing. A woman and a child were also in the cabin, standing at a little distance behind the surgeon. Though she was the man's wife, she was quite a young creature--almost a child herself--and she looked quite bewildered with grief and apprehension. We had opened the door without Doctor Christy moving or unclosing his eyes; but the moment Bessy Davenport entered, he started and looked up.

"I knew it!" he cried. "I felt it in the poor devil's pulse. Miss Bessy, you have no right to make any one's pulse gallop so, has she, Sir Richard? Squire, your very humble servant. You have all come just in the nick of time, for I want help here. All the people are out in the field, and this poor girl is hardly able to help herself."

"Oh, dear Miss Bessy, I'se so glad to see you, and with your own people too," cried the poor man. "You'se very good to come and see poor Ercles."

"Hush!" said the doctor, "not a word, if you would have me save your life."

"Oh, I knows I'se going to die any how, Mas'r Christy," said the man.

"You shall die if you talk, and I won't try to save you," answered the doctor.

"How hot his hand is!" said Bessy, who had gone up and taken the gigantic black hand in hers.

"Yes," said the doctor, oracularly; "he has had great irritation all night, and is now somewhat low. But I have made up my mind to two things, since I have been sitting here, in the hope that some sensible person would come to help me. The first is, that no vital organ has been touched, though, as so often happens in wounds, all sorts of mortal places lay in the way. The second is, that two balls were in the gun, fired so near that they did not spread at all, and that one of them is still in the wound."

"I feel it burning here, close to my back, mas'r," said Hercules,

"I dare say you do," answered the doctor; "nothing else could produce the symptoms which I perceive. Now, I must get that bail out; and I want some one to hold his right arm down while I operate; for yesterday he would move it. The poor fellow could not help it indeed--it was involuntary when he felt the pain."

"Can I do it?" asked Bessy, in a low timid tone.

"No, I thank you, Miss Davenport," replied the doctor, with a quaint smile. "When I have a robin to operate upon, I will ask you to hold it, but not Goliath of Gath. Sir Richard, perhaps, or Mr. Thornton, will hold the arm; and we will reserve for you an easier task. Here, Miss Bessy, take the second bottle out of that little black-leather case there, and put about a teaspoonful in some water. Then stand here, while I seek for the ball; and give him the draught if you think he is likely to faint. We must guard against fatal syncope. Now, Hercules, if you are quite quiet, you shall have relief in a minute or two; and if you keep quiet you shall get well. Why, old Jenny, I did not see you. You can hold the hartshorn-and-water."

"No, I will do it, Doctor Christy," said Bessy. "I never have shrunk, and never wish to shrink, from that which is needful to help a fellow-creature."

"I know you don't," answered the surgeon; and, baring his arm, he proceeded to place his patient in the proper position, and remove the bandages from the wound. Bessy turned her eyes away at first, and I could see her lip quiver a little with agitation; but I would not interfere; and Mr. Thornton, who was watching her face also, walked round and stood behind her, evidently believing that she might faint sooner than the patient. The moment the operation began, however, she fixed her eyes upon the poor negro's face, and seemed to watch for any change. At the end of a minute or two (for the operation was a somewhat long one), she suddenly put the little cup to the man's lips, saying--

"Drink some of this, Hercules." He drank; and, almost at the same moment, Doctor Christy exclaimed,--

"I have got it! I have got it fast."

"Oh, that is comfortable! Oh, that is cool!" cried the poor fellow, as the surgeon drew out the forceps, with the ball in their gripe.

"Ay, and you will do well now, Hercules," said the surgeon. "That fellow must have been a bloody-minded scoundrel, to put two balls in the gun. You will do well now, I tell you."

"Dar say I shall, Mas'r Christy," answered the negro; "I feels quite easy like, and I do think I could fall asleep if Missy Bessy would but sing just a little bit. Many a time I'se stood to hear you a' singing under the window at old Beavors."

"That I will, Hercules, if it can do you any good," answered Bessy. And, sitting down on the little stool, with a voice that trembled, but was yet exquisitely sweet, she sung the negro song I have mentioned before--

"The shocking of the corn."

The poor man's young wife crept round, as she sang, and, kneeling at her feet, gently kissed her hand: the negro's eyes closed drowsily, opened, and closed again, in the sleep of exhaustion and relief; and Bessy, suffering her voice gradually to die away, closed the song at the end of the third stanza. The surgeon wiped something like a tear from his eye, and we all stole quietly out of the cabin.

"Well, I do think you are an angel, after all," said the good doctor, addressing Bessy, when we were in the open air.

"Hush, doctor, hush!" answered she almost sadly. "I never felt myself more completely mortal than at this moment--more weak--more worthless."

"Well, then, what is perhaps better than an angel," added the enthusiastic old gentleman, "you are the best specimen of a right, true-hearted Virginia girl. God bless them all! I never could get one of them to marry me; but it was not my fault, and their good luck."

"But tell us about the other men," said Mr. Thornton. "I heard there were three wounded."

"Oh, mere flesh wounds," answered the surgeon; "they will get well without much doctoring, when negroes or labourers are in the scrape. They are very serious, of course," he added with a comical smile, "when rich gentlemen and baronets from foreign lands are under our hands. With them, the cases are all very peculiar; and we get as much credit and as many fees out of them as we can. I have no patience, however," he continued, "with this Robert Thornton, for putting two bullets in his gun, to shoot a poor negro. I am sorry I helped to cure the bloody-minded scoundrel, and I shall tell him so the next time I see him."

"You will never see him more, Doctor Christy," replied Mr. Henry Thornton. "He was shot dead this morning, by Nat Turner, near the State-line." The good surgeon actually gasped with surprise; but he soon recovered his facetious mood; for sometimes doctors, like undertakers, become so habituated and familiar with death, that they can joke with the "lean abhorred monster," as if he were a boon companion.

"Nat Turner! again Nat Turner!" he cried. "Why, this fellow is ubiquitous. But I suppose his killing Bob Thornton will be a good thing for him; for, though a jury may condemn him for his other murders, of course the governor will pardon him in reward for this. I am sorry for the old man, however; he won't know what to do without his son. By his help, he had got three-quarters of the way to the dogs already; and now he will have no one to show him the remainder."

"He will find it easily enough," said Mr. Thornton, drily. And, mounting our horses again, we were about to ride on to the house of the sheriff, when Bessy perceived that old Jenny was not with us. On inquiry, we found that she had remained in the cabin; and when the surgeon beckoned her out, she approached Mr. Thornton's horse, saying,--

"Please, Mas'r Henry, I think I'll stay here, if you'se no objection."

"What for, Jenny?" asked Mr. Thornton; "are you too tired to go on?"

"No, dat's not it at all," answered the good woman; "but I wants to help Pheme to nurse poor Ercles. You see, Mas'r Henry, Pheme's no more nor a child in such matters; and she don't know how to nurse her husband at all. So I'd better stay."

"A capital good thought, auntie," said the surgeon; "you and I have nursed many a one through a bad illness before, and you're a handy old girl."

"Then," said Jenny, "we are close by ole Will's house, and that er hoss belongs to him. So, if you just take him off the hook, he'll go way home."

"I'll see to that," said Doctor Christy. "You ride on to the sheriff," added he, addressing Mr. Thornton, Bessy, and myself, "and leave me and Jenny to manage the sick man, and the well horse, too." The sheriff's habitation was different from any Virginian house I had seen, both in site and appearance. It was a low, cottage-looking structure, extending over a considerable space of ground, with its pleasant verandah all round it, and not seated, as usual, upon the very edge of the cleared part of the plantation, but still sheltered by the original wood. It was raised upon a little knoll in the forest, perhaps two hundred yards wide, and that space only had been cleared in the vicinity of the house. It looked dry and comfortable, yet cool and shady, with the large trees devoid of underwood, forming a sort of grove all around it, and giving it much the aspect of an English forest-lodge. The sheriff himself came out to receive us as we rode up, followed by his sister, of whom he had spoken; the very reverse of himself in many respects; for, whereas he was fully six feet, two or three, in height, she was very diminutive in stature, and certainly made up for the sheriff's occasional taciturnity by her own good-humoured volubility of tongue. In her dress she was a perfect model for elderly ladies in a state of single blessedness. It was the perfection of trim neatness, from the beautiful little white apron to the small Quaker-looking cap. No superfluous ribbon--no gaudy colour--no fantastic ornament was there; but she put me in mind of some of those neat little brown birds, which are generally the sweetest songsters. We were all welcomed heartily; and a good deal of hospitable bustle took place to make arrangements for getting some more becoming clothes for Bessy and myself; the little old lady justly remarking that we looked more like fugitives from the penitentiary than anything else. Mr. Thornton, however, speedily set her anxieties on that score at rest.

"I will just stay to take some dinner with you," he said, "and then ride on to my own house. As soon as I get there, I will send over some of my people, Bessy's maid, and her own clothes; for these she has evidently stolen somewhere. I took the liberty, Sir Richard, of bringing your man Zed over to my house; and as I had the melancholy task yesterday of making all the sad arrangements at Beavors, I and Zed brought away your baggage from the room you occupied there. Perhaps I had better send poor Zed over with such articles of apparel, et c[ae]tera, as his taste and judgment may select. He will then have the opportunity of assuring himself, with his own eyes, that you are safe and well, for the poor man went about all yesterday evening mourning after you, with a voice as melancholy as a whip-poor-will."

"But, my dear sir," I answered, "you take it for granted that I am going to stay here when I have not even been asked."

"Oh that's of course," cried the sheriff. "Nobody thinks of asking his friends in this country; they always come when they like, and the invitation is understood."

"Pray do stay, Richard," said Bessy, laying her head on my arm. "I have a great deal to talk to you about to-morrow; for I am so tired, and feel so weak, that I shall go to bed soon this evening--do stay."

"Assuredly," I replied. "I was only putting on a little mock-modesty about the invitation, Bessy."

"Well, well, go and wash your hands and faces," cried the sheriff. "We shall allow you time for no other toilet; for you have lingered so long on the road, that I fear the dinner has spoiled, and I hear certain sounds issuing from the back of the house, which indicate that fried chickens are on their way to the dining room. Listen, and you will presently hear a terrible crash, announcing that a large dish has fallen in the stone passage, and that Ham has tumbled out of the ark--a daily occurrence in Virginian houses, Sir Richard."

"No, brother Harrisson, I do declare," cried the sister. "It never happened in this house. Come away, Bessy, he's a libeller. Come away, Sir Richard, and I will show you both your rooms, quite snug, side by side."

"With a chink in the wall, like Pyramis and Thisbe's?" asked the sheriff, with a funny smile. Bessy shook her finger at him with the rose bright in her cheek; and then we both followed his sister to two very neat little rooms, which looked charmingly comfortable and tidy, after the strange, wild scenes in which some of our nights had lately been passed. When I returned to the parlour, I found Mr. Thornton and the sheriff in somewhat eager conference.

"We shall need you over at my house, and perhaps, at Jerusalem to-morrow," said Mr. Thornton, as I entered. "We would not, it is true, break up so pleasant an arrangement as Bessy has made for you; but business must be attended to, Sir Richard."

"What, in Virginia?" I asked with a smile, remembering his own description of the business habits of the people. "However, my dear sir, I will not promise to be over before two o'clock, for Bessy and I have really a great deal to talk of. She is my devisee, you know, Mr. Sheriff; and, of course, our business is very important--though I have some suspicion, my good friend," I continued, turning to Mr. Thornton, "that the clever arrangement we made for conveying all my right, title, interest, et c[ae]tera, to one Bessy Davenport, spinster, will have to be remodelled."

"We shall see," answered Mr. Thornton, quite gravely.

"At all events, our business is important," I urged.

"Not half so important as that which waits us in the next room," cried the sheriff impatiently, "if these two women would but come. Now, I'll answer for it, that excellent sister of mine is making our dear little friend give her a true, full, and particular account of all that has occurred to her during the last week; totally forgetting those fried chickens we were talking of. Jack," he shouted aloud from the door, "go and throw down a large china dish at your mistress's door, to let her know that dinner is ready. Mind you break it all to pieces with a good smash."

"Brother, brother, I am coming," cried his sister, who, of course, had heard the whole. "Don't be so foolish; the man might misunderstand you. Come, Bessy, my love, these voracious men are ravenous for their dinner." I must acknowledge that I certainly was ravenous for mine. Poor Bessy had every right to be hungry also; for we had not tasted any food since the preceding night. It is, indeed, wonderful, how agitation, alarm, or the eager activity of the mind, exercised in any way, will stay the cravings of appetite; and, at all events, it is not till a certain point is reached that hunger is at all felt when we are earnestly and vigorously employed. Oh, those two strange twins of Leda, mind and body, the godlike and the earthly! Though the one may rise when the other sets, the power of the one can always dominate over the other. In fear for her china dishes, the lady of the house very speedily entered the parlour, followed by Bessy, and we were soon seated at a comfortable and well-supplied country table, where everything that farm, garden, stream, and woodland could supply, was found in abundance. Nor to our appetites, purified by fasting, did anything seem over-cooked or under-cooked, although the sheriff, with less than his usual tact, decried some of the dishes as being too much done.

"Well, my good friend," rejoined Mr. Thornton, "we have only to apologize to your sister, by saying we have spoiled her dinner by deviating a little from the straight road on our errand of charity. We went to see that great, big fellow, Hercules, who was shot by Robert Thornton yesterday morning; and when once there, Doctor Christy kept us to aid in all sorts of operations."

"How is he, how is he?" asked the sheriff. "Had I thought of it, I would have passed that way myself; but I have so many matters jostling each other in my mind just now, that one half of them escape notice or remembrance in the crowd."

"The man, I hope, is likely to do well," observed Mr. Thornton. "The good doctor extracted a second ball just now; but I think Bessy was the best doctor of the two, for she sang him to sleep, though he had not been able to close an eye for the last twenty-four hours. It was not the best compliment to your song, my dear niece, to fall asleep over it; but I dare say it will do him a great deal of good."

"It was the best compliment I could wish him to pay me," replied Bessy; "for it was that at which the song was aimed. But you gentlemen, my good uncle, often think that we women are seeking for compliments when nothing is less in our thoughts. Besides, I would never think of seeking one in your presence, being sure that you would spoil it before it reached me." In such conversation, with the agreeable accessories of eating and drinking, and the pleasant, soporific sort of consciousness of being once more in a comfortable chair in a comfortable house, and safe amidst all the charming little luxuries of civilized life, three-quarters of an hour passed away very quietly, and then Mr. Henry Thornton rose to depart. I walked by the side of his horse for some way along the road, pretending to myself to desire much to know what were the matters of business which he wished to discuss with me the next day; but, in reality, much more anxious to ascertain what was the cause of a certain gravity which had tinged his manner, when I had vaguely hinted at the possibility of Bessy Davenport becoming my wife. He did not easily take my hints; but, at length, I came so nearly to the plain question, that he could neither mistake, nor affect to mistake, my meaning.

"The truth is, my friend," he said, "Bessy believes that there are insuperable obstacles; and depend upon it, she does not think so without cause. She is very tenacious in her resolutions; but she always believes, at least, that they are founded on good motives and sound reasons; for, lively and playful as her manner is, I know nobody who is at heart less of a coquette than Bessy Davenport. Before deciding in this instance, she put several questions to me by letter; in answer to which I was obliged to tell her the truth, although she did not conceal from me, that the reply which I was forced to make might greatly affect her own happiness."

"Would there be any objection to your telling me the question she put to you?" I asked.

"I think that would be hardly fair, my dear young friend," answered my companion. "But it seems you are to have a conference to-morrow, and then, doubtless, all will be explained to you by herself. All I can say is, I wish you success with all my heart; and I trust that the various scenes you have lately gone through together, and the vast services and kindnesses you have rendered her, will be found to outweigh all objections. Yet I will tell you fairly, Sir Richard, that I entertain considerable apprehensions--and I grieve to entertain them--in regard to the result to her own health, whether she marries you, or whether she does not."

"What you say puts all my conjectures at sea again," I replied; "for you, at least, must be well informed as to the events of preceding years; and I fondly fancied, up to this moment, that she had made a great mistake, which I could easily rectify. However, I would rather hear the whole facts from her lips, than from any other's; and, as she has already promised to leave the decision to me, I assure you. Mr. Thornton, I will try to decide as may be most for her happiness, rather than for my own."

"Do so, do so, I beseech you, Sir Richard," replied Mr. Thornton. "To break such a heart as hers, would be worse than a murder; it would be a sacrilege." There we parted; and walking back to the sheriff's house, I found Bessy still in the parlour with himself and his sister, although, by this time, it was growing dark.

"I have stayed to wish you good night, Richard," she said: "but I must really go to bed now, for I am fairly worn out. When shall our conference be? to-morrow, Richard? Before breakfast, had it not better be? You know my early hours, and I can never sleep after five if I try."

"I will be down before then," I answered; "and we will make a regular appointment to meet here, dear Bessy, if we do not shock too much our kind host and hostess."

"O no, do as you like," cried the sheriff; "you are beyond my competence." Bessy had spoken perfectly calmly and quietly throughout, with not the slightest trace of doubt or agitation. And when she had wished the sheriff and his sister good night, I walked with her to the door, and into the passage.

"I wish I could be as calm as you are, Bessy," I said, with a sigh. She looked up in my face, and put her hand upon mine, gazing at me with an earnest, steadfast gaze.

"I am calm, Richard," she answered, "because the decision of my fate and of him whom I love best on earth is entirely in his own hands, and because I have such faith and trust in his judgment, that I have almost taught myself to believe his decision will satisfy my conscience whatever pre-conceived opinions I might now entertain. But let us not enter on it now. Let us decide all to-morrow. Good night, dear Richard, good night!"

"Stay a moment," I said, holding her hand. "I have got something in trust for you here. These papers were found upon your table at Beavors by Nat Turner, and he gave them to me. Believe me, dear Bessy, when I tell you, that although I knew they contained a clue to all the painful mystery, which, within the last week or so, has made our intercourse one of doubt and anxiety instead of joy and hope, I have not read one word."

"Oh, you might have read them," she said; "but never mind; you shall read them to-morrow, and then tell me what I am to do. You are the lord of my fate, and I will obey you as--as my----"

"Husband," I added, hope springing up anew. "I must have one kiss before we part, after such scenes. If to-morrow I find I am wrong in taking it, I will give it back again." She gave it readily, murmuring,--

"Oh, Richard, if such are your bargains, I know already how you will decide." Then, freeing herself from my arms, she ran away, and left me. At the end of little more than an hour, Zed and Julia, Bessy's maid, made their appearance, with a quantity of goods and chattels, sufficient to half-fill the cart in which they came. Soon after their arrival, I, too, went to bed, and only feared that, in the unwonted softness of my couch, I might oversleep myself on the the following morning.