Raising himself upon his elbow, he looked at his wife with so forlorn and piteous an expression that Gervase imagined for a moment that he was wronging him by his suspicions, and that the little man had in reality been wounded. It never for a moment occurred to the mind of his wife that he had crept under the parapet to be out of the way of evil, and it was with grief and consternation that she began to investigate his injuries. With the aid of Gervase he was lifted out of the trench, and though no wound could be found on his person that would account for his condition, his wife continued to ply him with questions which he as resolutely refused to answer. “I think,” he said, after a while, “I shall try to stand. I thought my back was broken, but the feeling hath come back into my extremities, and I may yet recover the use of my faculties. Thank God for our merciful deliverance!” “Had you been killed, Simon,” said his wife, “I should have grieved sorely, but it would have been my consolation that you fell in the way of your duty.” “Truly that is the case,” her husband answered in the same tone, “but I have, I hope and trust been mercifully spared to you and the children. I think, though, I have got this day what will shorten my arm for the future. I even fear I have seen my last fight.” “I am thinking,” said his wife, whose strong common sense was gradually overcoming her alarm, “that you are more frightened than hurt. I would just like to know how it came that we found you in the trench with never a scratch on your body?” “And you´ll know that,” said Simon, plucking up heart and sending his imagination on an airy flight, a course his mind would seldom take. “You will remember, Mr. Orme, how you and I were even plunged in the thick of it, with those swearing devils swinging their long swords and cracking their pistols about our ears. I saw you borne forward and like to come to evil, but I could not help you, strive as I might. I had work enough of my own to save my head, and I and some others--who they were I know not--were borne back here. We made a stout defence, but I was struck or pushed from behind and only remember falling back heels over head into the trench thinking I should never see wife or children again. And now, God be thanked! we have gained a great victory, and that let none gainsay.” “The day is hardly over,” said Gervase, who could not restrain his amusement; “they are still pushing us hard in the ramparts down by the Bogside, and I heard a whisper that our men had been driven in there. If you feel able we might go thither and see if we cannot strike a brave blow together.” “The Lord forbid--I mean--that is--I have had my share of this day´s fight, and so look you, Mr. Orme, I say with all courage, I think I´ll even turn my steps homeward, if my wife will lend me her arm, and will not keep you waiting here. You are young and lusty, and hot blood must have hot blood.”