; till, spite of the
weakness and the sharp pains, his eye began to twinkle with something of
the old happy light that seemed to be of so long ago, and, smilingly, he
murmured: "We are not ready for our graves yet." Miss Carmichael looked
severe, and held up a warning finger. "Repeat that, Eugene, and I will
send her to take care of you at once," she said; "that is, if she will
leave her dear Mr. Douglas for a poor bed-ridden creature like you." As
an affectionate salute followed these words, it may be presumed they
were not so harsh as they sounded. The doctor came in time for
breakfast, but, before partaking of that meal, he visited his patient,
eased his bandages, looked to the wounds, and praised the nurse. "He
could not be doing better," he said, as he cheerfully descended to the
breakfast table.

The constable had respected the sanctity of the Sabbath, and was still
in the kitchen, while his prisoners languished in the stables. Tryphena
presided over the morning meal, at which Timotheus and Ben sat; and
Tryphosa, who had just descended from her labours in the sick room, was
giving them so touching and poetical an account of the invalid and his
nurses that Timotheus began seriously to consider the propriety of
having some frightful injury inflicted upon his own person. Mr. Toner
related for the tenth time how the spurious doctor had cured him, and
then proceeded to tell of Serlizer's wonderful skill in pulling through
her shot-riddled old reprobate of a father, till "he was eenamost as
good as new and a mighty sight heavier 'n he was, along o' the leaud in
his old carkidge." Constable Rigby laughed at the wounds of the day, and
characterized them as mere scratches, unworthy of mention in casualty
despatches. "There was a man of ours, an acting corporal, called
Brattles, in the melee at Inkerman, who broke the tip of his bagginet
off in one Rooshian, and the butt of it in another. Then he had nothing
to do but to club with what the French call the crosse. He forgot that
he had not emptied his gun of the last charge so, just as he had floored
his fourth Rooshian, the piece went off into his left breast, and the
bullet ran clear down him and came out of his boot under the hollow of
the left foot. Captain Clarkson thought he was done for; but Brattles
asked him for two champagne corks, plugged up the incoming and the
outgoing wounds with them, and stuck to it till the Rooshian bugles
sounded the retreat. That I call a