As we came in sight of Beavors, the fact arose suddenly to my remembrance that, although Mr. Stringer and his family themselves were not very early in their habits, Bessy Davenport was generally up and about shortly after daylight. In spite of all that I could do, I was covered with blood; my white summer trousers were soaked and dabbled; and there was no cloak or great coat in the carriage which I could throw over me to conceal the ghastly spectacle. I knew that whatever might be her feelings towards me, the sight would alarm and agitate her; and, turning my head towards Mr. Byles, inquired if we could not get into the house by some back way, which would enable me to reach my room unperceived, and remove the "bloody witness from my person."

"Oh, yes, master," answered Zed, taking the words out of Mr. Byles's mouth, and apparently divining instantly what was passing in my mind. "Master Wheatley drive round by the right hand road to the back. Then we go through the pantry-hall, and up the little back-staircase, which runs behind Miss Bessy's room. But she never use it; she always go down the great stairs. Then your room is just opposite, and you can slip in in a minute." Zed's plan seemed admirable, though it did not turn out as well as we expected. We reached the back of the house, indeed, unperceived, and entered what Zed called the pantry-hall. It is wonderful how often when we have laid a scheme for any purpose as perfectly as human calculation could arrange it, some little circumstance occurs which does not usually happen more than once in a year, and throws all our well-conceived arrangements wrong. The very moment after, leaning on Mr. Wheatley's arm, I had entered the pantry-hall by the one door, in came Bessy Davenport by the other, with a bunch of flowers in her hand, exclaiming, "Henry, Henry, give me a glass of water." The next instant her eyes fell upon me, and she turned deadly pale. Everything was forgotten in the agitation and terror of the moment--reserve, playfulness, coquetry, if you will, the presence of strangers. She dropped the flowers at once upon the floor, sprang forward, and threw her arm partly round me, as if to support me, exclaiming, "Oh, Richard, Richard! you are hurt! you are wounded! I knew it, I was sure of it. My heart told me it would be so." The best medicine that physician ever compounded could not have done me half so much good as her words and her look. "I am very little hurt indeed, Bessy," I answered. "A little blood makes a great show, and it all comes from my arm, which will be well, I dare say, in a couple of days."

"Only your arm, only your arm," she said. "Oh, Richard, do not deceive me."

"I do not indeed," I answered; "it is only my arm. Ask Mr. Wheatley."

"But you are so pale," she continued; "you may bleed to death. Henry, get a horse directly, and gallop over to Jerusalem, tell Doctor Christy to come here without a moment's delay. Say, Sir Richard Conway is badly wounded. Come to your room, Richard; I can stop the blood--I think, I hope. I am somewhat of a surgeon amongst the servants," she added, with a faint smile. "Come this way, for all the boys are in the hall." And she led me by a small staircase, which, passing at the back of her own room into which there was a door from the landing, opened by another door upon the main corridor. I was soon in my own room, and seated in the arm chair, with Mr. Byles, Mr. Wheatley, Zed, and Bessy around me. Nothing could persuade the beautiful girl to go. In spite of all we could say, she would see the wound herself, and treat it after her fashion, which, I must say, she did with considerable skill. My coat was taken off, the sleeves stripped up, and though I could see her give a shudder when the blood spouted forth, on the bandage being removed, she did not lose her firmness for a moment.

"Now tie it round tight again, tie it round tight again," she cried to Mr. Wheatley who had unfastened the bandage to remove my coat. "Zed, run into my room, and get two or three handkerchiefs. Juno will give them to you."

"Plenty of handkerchiefs here, Miss Bessy," said Zed, handing her some from my portmanteau; and, taking one of them, she folded it several times. Then placing it on the wound, she bound another tightly over, so as to act as a compress, and watched in deep silence for a minute or two to see if it would have the effect she wished. The blood oozed through after a time, but very slowly; and, with a sigh, as if of relief, she said,--

"That will do, Richard. It will not bleed much or long now; but you must sit quite quiet till the surgeon comes." I took her dear little hand in mine, and pressed my lips upon it; and not caring for the presence of others, she left it still in mine, gazing thoughtfully into my face. She was still in the same position, when Mr. Stringer entered the room, hurriedly, in his dressing-gown.

"What is the matter? What is the matter?" he exclaimed. "They tell me you are wounded, Sir Richard?" There were plenty to explain the matter, and each gave his own version of the affair; Mr. Wheatley, in his peculiar and pungent manner; Billy Byles, drily and in a few words; but Zed, with amplification and details, which I would fain have stopped, both on my own account and on account of one of the listeners. He seemed to consider it a point of honour that his master should not have come off worst in the encounter, and he took particular pleasure in dwelling upon the two wounds which Robert Thornton had received.

"Ah, yes, he hit him every time," said Zed; "and would have shot him through from side to side the first shot, only, I fancy, he did not want to kill him, Master Stringer. That is how he got his wound; for if he had just sent the ball through his head the first fire, he would not have been wounded at all."

"Then is the unfortunate man dead?" asked Bessy, in a low tone.

"No, no," I answered; "he is not dead, my dear cousin. I assure you, I did not intend to kill him; but he stood so, that it was almost impossible to prevent his injuring me without the risk of taking his own life. I think--I trust he may still recover." Bessy put her hands over her eyes, and sat silent; and I could not but remember what I had heard on the preceding day, that her father had fallen in an encounter of the same kind. Though Hope is a very persuasive angel, yet there is a certain little devil, lying hidden in some of the deep windings and turnings of the mind, which is always, with low-voiced cunning, suggesting something contrary to the flattering promises of the charmer. Even now he whispered,--

"Bessy finds a parity between the case of her father and that of this man. However she may dislike him--whatever may be her feelings towards me--some of her sympathies are enlisted on his side." I did not like the thought at all; but she sat quietly beside me, and did not seem to entertain the slightest thought of quitting the room.

"It strikes me," said Mr. Stringer, after a few unimportant inquiries, that there are altogether too many people here round a wounded man. Sir Richard does not seem to be losing much blood now, and some of us had better retire till the surgeon arrives, who, I find, has been sent for. Bessy--Miss Davenport--I think I must constitute you head nurse; for you know Mrs. Stringer's nerves are not equal to such scenes, and you have been brought up with more strength of character.

"I am as weak as a child," said Bessy, in a low tone; but then, instantly recovering herself, she added, in a gayer manner, "Well, I will undertake the task, and risk all sorts of ingratitude. You must not think me bold, Richard, if I come in and out at all times and seasons to see to my patient's progress--being my cousin too, I have a right. Your servant will stay with you, of course. Can't you have a bed, or a sofa, or something put up there for him, Mr. Stringer? I am going away just now to take some hartshorn, or some mint-julep, or some rye-whisky, or something--what would you recommend, gentlemen?--I have just found out that I have got some nerves, and am not quite so much accustomed to scenes of blood and slaughter as you are." It struck me that there was the slightest possible touch of bitterness in what she said; but I found afterwards that I was mistaken. Strong emotions, even of the tenderest kind, sometimes have recourse to hard words, and even to light jests, to hide themselves not only from the eyes of others, but also from the sight of those who feel them. Bessy, Mr. Byles, and Mr. Stringer quitted the room, leaving me with Zed and Mr. Wheatley. The latter, with great tact and good sense, chatted so calmly and cheerfully that the time seemed very short till Dr. Christy, the surgeon, quietly, and almost silently, entered the room. He did not wear creaking shoes, that besetting sin of medical men. His manner was all very calm and composed, without the slightest haste or bustle in his aspect, although I could judge from the perspiration on his forehead that he had ridden hard. After a few minutes' conversation on subjects barely relevant to my situation, he proceeded to examine my arm.

"The ball is still in," he said; "your muscle is very firm, Sir Richard, or they had not put powder enough in the pistol. However, we shall easily extract it, for it lies perfectly straight." He put me to a good deal of pain, however, though not for more than a few seconds; and then dropped the bullet into a basin of water. I thought it was all over; but he must needs probe the wound again, and then, shaking his head, observed,--

"There is something more, I am sorry to say. We must not leave anything extraneous in the wound, for fear of bad consequences hereafter. A moment more, and it will be all over. Whatever it is, I know its exact position." He then had recourse to the forceps again, and, in an instant, brought up a small splinter of bone, not bigger than an ordinary iron tack.

"That is unfortunate," he said; "the ball has just touched the bone, which may delay your recovery for some days, and will require you to keep quiet and be very cautious. Otherwise, the wound might heal almost with the first intention."

"I think first intentions are always best, doctor," said Mr. Wheatley; "although they say second thoughts are. However, my friend must submit to fate, like the rest of us, and I presume there is nothing dangerous about the wound."

"Nothing whatever," answered the surgeon, "if he is but prudent. I think, Sir Richard," he continued, "from what I have heard of your conduct on the field, it will be a satisfaction for you to know that there is a prospect of your antagonist recovering. He was brought to town at once, and I and my partner saw him. One was merely a flesh wound; the other was one of those curious wounds that we sometimes see, which, going close to several vital organs, leaves them all untouched. An inch further back would have sent the ball through his heart; an inch higher up would have carried it through one of the great vessels of the lungs. Neither were touched; and, though he must suffer for a long time, I think, from various indications, he will recover. And now, if I might advise you, you will go to bed; keep yourself as quiet as possible, and do not rise till I see you to-morrow. I will send you a draught to insure you a good night's rest and keep down fever. But you had better have somebody in the room with you, lest, in tossing about, the compress should get deranged and hemorrhage return." Thus saying, he left me. But I cannot pretend that I followed his instructions to the letter. I had a notion that Bessy would return to see me, and, therefore, I determined to sit up till she came. Nor was I disappointed. The surgeon had not been gone ten minutes when she knocked at the door; and appeared to have quite recovered from the shock of the morning.

"I am determined," she said, "not to care for what people may think in England, although we independent American women are often shamefully afraid of English opinions; but I cannot think there can be anything wrong in attending upon a sick cousin.--Can there, Mr. Wheatley?"

"Not in the slightest degree," answered Mr. Wheatley. "It was a part of the old-time chivalry. Then every lady had a great number of cousins, and they all attended upon them when they were wounded, which was, I think, every other day." And he gave one of his short, low laughs. Nevertheless, Bessy stayed with me for a full half-hour; and I do not believe she would have gone then, if Mr. Wheatley, much to my annoyance, had not given her to understand that Dr. Christy had ordered me to go to bed directly. The rest of the day passed dully enough. Towards night, a good deal of pain and fever came on; and though that opiate produced some wild and uncomfortable sleep, I woke the next morning, feeling languid and exhausted. But I had suffered in the same manner from a previous wound; and when the surgeon returned, he said, I was going on as well as could be expected.