On extricating him, it was painfully apparent that his leg was not only broken but that his knee was crushed. He was immediately removed to his mother’s residence and the most distinguished surgical skill called in to his relief. But for many days he lay upon a bed of anguish during which, Clara, joyfully embracing the sweet privileges of a betrothed bride, watched over him like some angelic messenger of health and peace. At length he was able to change his recumbent posture for an easy-chair; but it was many weeks before he left it to attempt to walk about the chamber. The first time he did so it was with Dr. M—— on one side and Clara on the other. It was a painful effort, but two or three turns about the room were accomplished with less difficulty than had been apprehended. He walked very, very lame it is true, but that was to be expected. “He will soon get to his feet again as well as ever, won’t he, Doctor?” asked Clara, partly to assure her own anxiety and partly to relieve the foreboding of poor Leslie, who, by the expression of his face, she saw, believed he should be lame for life. Dr. M—— looked at Leslie, shook his head sadly and said, “He will no doubt walk well enough in a few weeks, Miss Clayton. But then that won’t make much difference,” he added, smiling, “since he has no more conquests to make. If you should be lame, Major, you must regard it a fortunate thing to have secured so fair a bride while possessing all your natural attractions of person.” “My God, Doctor! you talk as if you thought there was some possibility that I might be lame for life. Do tell me if this lameness I now have proceeds from physical weakness or from imperfection in the limb?” “It is cruel to deceive you, my dear Major, though painful to tell the truth,” answered Dr. M——, after a pause that did honor to his heart; “your leg was broken in several places, producing an exceedingly difficult compound fracture. It is improbable though not impossible that the parts should ever perfectly re-unite. I fear, therefore, you must bring both religion and philosophy to your aid, and try to endure it cheerfully. This fair being who has so assiduously nursed by your pillow will help you to bear it.” Leslie did not look up in the Doctor’s face while he spoke. His head had fallen upon the arm of his chair, and there, with his face buried in his hands, he lay still several minutes after he had ceased to speak. His chest heaved with suppressed emotion, some deep o’er-mastering feeling. At length he groaned heavily and looked up with a faint attempt to smile. “This is a hard lot, Doctor, but I must attempt to bear it as well as I can. I am not unprepared for this announcement. I have apprehended it myself from the severe character of the injury I received.”