“Well, doctor, what's to be done? Can you fetch him around?” Redwood asked. “Oh,” the doctor said, “he'll come around naturally in a little while--an hour or two, at the furthest. I think that we had better carry him to another room, where it will be quieter and cooler and away from the people.” “No,” put in the rabbi; “if you will help me get him into the carriage, I'll take him home.” “Why,” exclaimed Redwood, “if you do that we'll have to postpone the wedding.” “Yes, I shouldn't wonder,” concurred the rabbi. “But then--there'll be the very deuce to pay. Here are these guests assembled, and supper prepared, and their passage engaged on to-morrow's steamer, and their trunks gone aboard, by George, and every thing in apple-pie order; and take it all around, you couldn't make a more awkward proposition.” “Add to which,” interposed the medical man, “that in his present condition, a carriage-drive, and the jolting up which it would involve, are just the things that might do him the most injury.” “I'm sorry,” the rabbi said; “but being his only relative here, I feel myself responsible for him, and must act as my own judgment directs. I shall thank you, therefore, if you will assist me in carrying him to our carriage.” “I'll be hanged,” cried Redwood, “if I think it's decent for you to step in here, and knock all our plans into a cocked hat, like that. And, any how, didn't you hear the doctor say that a carriage drive would hurt him?” “And yet,” volunteered the doctor, “if the gentleman insists, Mr. Redwood, it will be wiser to let him have his own way. A dispute, you know, under the circumstances, is hardly desirable.” “I do insist. I feel in duty bound to,” said the rabbi. “Well, you've got a mighty queer sense of duty, then,” retorted Redwood; “and you can bet your life that when Elias comes to, he'll be as mad as jingo. But if you choose to take the responsibility on your own shoulders, go ahead.” When Christine saw that they were about to bear Elias from the room, she demanded eagerly, almost fiercely, whither? And upon being informed that the rabbi meant to carry him home, she passionately besought the old man not to do it; imploring him to let her sweetheart remain where he was, at least till he should have regained his senses; and pleading that until then she could not help fearing the worst. “Oh, sir--please--_please_ don't take him away from me. How shall I rest, until he has come to, and spoken to me? Oh, I can't--I can't _bear_ to have you take him away, like that. If you would-only leave him till he can speak to me! What shall I do, all night long, not knowing whether he is sick--or dead--or what, and--and always seeing him before me, that way? Oh, there, there! They are taking him away. Oh, Elias! Oh, sir! Oh, God, God! Oh, what shall I do?”