The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 5, May, 1862: Devoted To Literature And National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 5, May, 1862: Devoted To Literature And National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
'I was still weak--nervous; and her words breathed such tones of bitter
anguish, and her whole frame evinced such tokens of emotion, that in
spite of all that I had overheard, tears welled up to my eyelids, and
compassion overcame my still lurking distrust; her sobs alone broke the
silence which ensued, and I was never in my life more painfully
embarrassed. Fortunately the return of my neighbor relieved me from my
peculiar predicament. No sooner did Adéle hear him enter the adjoining
room, than she opened the door of communication, and threw herself upon
his breast.
VII.
''Dearest Arthur,' said she, the tears still running down her cheeks,
'how fearfully you must have suffered throughout this long interview!'
''Oh! fear not, Adéle, all will yet be well. I will protect you and
avenge your wrongs.'
''Fear not?' said she, 'do you think that I dread death for my own sake?
No, Arthur, death is nothing terrible to me _now_.'
'Then suddenly appearing to become conscious of my presence, they both
seized me by the hands and overwhelmed me with the profusion of their
thanks.
''Any one would have acted precisely as I have, under similar
circumstances. I therefore beg you to spare me from further thanks. But,
my dear sir, do you feel ill? Madame, allow me to support Mr.
Livermore.'
'A sudden change came over his features; a deathlike paleness overspread
his countenance, his eyelids became half-closed, his breathing grew
short, his hands clenched, and a nervous tremor shook his entire frame.
For a few moments I feared he was at the point of death. I promptly
assisted him to his couch.
''Are you surgeon enough to bleed him?' inquired Adéle.
''Yes, I will not hesitate if you desire me to do so.'
'We soon divested Arthur of his coat, stripped his arm, and while I went
in search of an impromptu lancet, Adéle prepared the needful bandages.
''Be quick, I implore you,' said she. 'Once before I saw him as he now
is; there is not a moment to be lost.'
'Need I confess that the entrance of a guardian angel in the shape of a
skillful disciple of Esculapius would have been hailed by me as an
especial joy? However, no such angel came, neither was he within call;
so as the danger struck me as imminent, and his condition appeared
growing every moment more critical, I argued, without bleeding he would
undoubtedly die, whereas by my attempt, however clumsy, he might rally.
I plucked up my courage to the sticking-point, and stuck my patient. I
drew several ounces of blood. My fair assistant displayed the most
undeniable, I can hardly say irreproachable, coolness, for really, to my
fancy, she was a little too much self-possessed. As soon as the bandages
were applied, Arthur's consciousness returned.
''Ah! thanks, thanks,' said he, addressing me in a low, faltering tone.
'The crisis has now passed.'
''Over-excitement, doubtless, produced it?'
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