“Oh, was that you? Excuse me, madam! I beg ten thousand pardons; but waking up suddenly, and seeing a hand in my pocket, I naturally enough supposed it to be that of a thief! It’s Heaven’s mercy that I had not shot you by mistake, my dear!” But seeing that she did not move, he leaned further over the side of the bed, and perceived that in falling the back of her head had struck the corner of the dressing bureau, and that she was stunned by the concussion—stunned or dead, he did not know which. He jumped to the floor and raised her. Her head and limbs fell helplessly over his arms. He laid her on the bed, ran his fingers through the golden tresses of her hair, but found no fracture; there might be a concussion of the brain, but there was no outward sign. He started to the bell to ring it, but before he got there changed his mind and returned, locked the door, went to the bureau, and taking a couple of linen handkerchiefs, tore them in strips, and took a lancet from his case (all planters kept such things for the exigencies of the plantation). He then went to the bedside, ripped up the sleeve of Alice’s dress, and baring the arm, opened a vein. As the blood began to flow—first very sluggishly, then faster—she opened her eyes and looked at him. He then bound up her arm, and telling her that he hoped this sharp lesson would teach her the danger of opposing his will again, left her and proceeded to dress himself. Alice attempted to rise, but her head grew dizzy, her eyes dim, and she sank back at the same moment that he sternly bade her be still, and not venture to leave her bed that day. He dressed, and left the chamber. At noon General Garnet returned and entered the room, and approaching the bedside asked Alice how she felt. “Only drowsy, inclined to sleep while lying down, but sick and dizzy and blind when I attempt to rise.” “If that be the case, you must not, upon any account, yield to that inclination to sleep. It is dangerous; you must rise and sit up.” “I cannot—I wish I could—I cannot. I turn deadly sick as soon as my head is lifted.” “Alice—I—think I must bleed you again,” he said, taking out the lancet and baring her arm. Then he hesitated a moment; he doubted whether this second bleeding would be right, but he resolved to risk it rather than risk the exposure of their secret by sending for a physician. He opened the vein again, and while the blood was trickling, looked so full of solicitude that Alice felt sorry for him, and said: “Never mind; don’t you know I knew it was an accident—the striking of my head against the bureau.” She now looked so much better again that he ventured to say, as he bound up her arm: