shut or opened with languid recognition. The injuries were such as to
exclude him from almost every means of expression, the wound in his
mouth made speech impossible, and his right arm was not available for
signs. It was only the clearness of his eyes, and their response to what
was said, that showed that his mind was recovering tone, and then he
seemed only alive to the present, and to perceive nothing but what
related to his suffering and its alleviations. The wistfulness that
had shown itself at first was gone, and even when he improved enough to
establish a language of signs with eye, lip, or left hand, Cecily became
convinced that he has little or no memory of recent occurrences, and
that finding himself at home among familiar faces, his still dormant
perceptions demanded no further explanation.

This blank was the most favourable state for his peace and for his
recovery, and it was of long duration, lasting even till he had made so
much progress that he could leave his bed, and even speak a few words,
though his weakness was much prolonged by the great difficulty with
which he could take nourishment. About two winters before, Cecily had
successfully nursed him through a severe attack of small-pox, and she
thought that he confounded his present state with the former illness,
when he had had nearly the same attendants and surroundings as at
present; and that his faculties were not yet roused enough to perceive
the incongruity.

Once or twice he showed surprise at visits from his mother or Philip,
who had then been entirely kept away from him, and about Christmas he
brightened so much, and awoke to things about him so much more fully,
that Cecily thought the time of recollection could not be much longer
deferred. Any noise, however, seemed so painful to him, that the
Christmas festivities were held at Combe Manor instead of Hurst Walwyn;
only after church, Sir Marmaduke and Lady Thistlewood came in to make
him a visit, as he sat in a large easy-chair by his bedroom-fire,
resting after having gone through as much of the rites of the day as he
was able for, with Mr. Adderlay. The room looked very cheerful with
the bright wood-fire on the open hearth, shining on the gay tapestry
hangings, and the dark wood of the carved bed. The evergreen-decked
window shimmered with sun shine, and even the patient, leaning back
among crimson cushions, though his face and head were ghastly enough
wherever they were not covered with pa