Bressant's collar-bone was broken; there were two severe bruises on his
leg, though it had escaped fracture; his body in several places was
marked with dark contusions, and there was a cut in the back of his
head, where he had fallen against a stone. The professor set the
collar-bone--a harrowing piece of work, there being no anesthetics at
hand--and attended to the other hurts, the patient all the while
preserving a dogged and moody silence, and avoiding the eyes of whoever
looked at him.
"Can't understand it," said the old gentleman to himself; "the fellow
acts like a wild-beast as regards his appreciation of human sympathy, in
spite of his refined intellect and cultivation. A wounded animal has the
same instinct to crawl away, and suffer in private."
When brought into the house, Bressant had been laid in the spare room
adjoining the professor's study. After he had done all he could for his
comfort, the warm-hearted old gentleman, being overcome with fatigue,
retired to rest; the patient lay sullenly quiet, wishing it were day,
and, again, wishing day would never come: at length the composing
draught which had been given him took effect, and he sank heavily into
sleep.
It was broad daylight when he awoke, and stared feverishly around him.
The room was a pleasant one, facing the north and east, and the morning
sun came cheerfully in through the open windows, slanting down the
walls, and brightening on the carpet. It was a great improvement upon
his rather gloomy room at the boarding-house, and he could not but feel
it so. A small ormolu clock ticked rapidly upon the mantel-piece, the
swing of the gilded pendulum being visible beneath. Bressant watched it
with idle interest. He felt so weak, in mind and body, that the clock
seemed company just fitted for his comprehension.
The door opened by-and-by, and Cornelia's smiling face peeped in,
looking the sweeter for an expression of tender anxiety. Seeing that he
was awake, her eyes took on an extra sparkle, and she advanced a step
into the room, still clinging with one hand to the door-knob, however,
as if afraid to lose its support.
"You feel a little better, don't you? Is that mattress comfortable? I'm
going to bring you your breakfast in a few minutes."
Bressant only grew red and bit his mustache for answer. He would gladly
have covered himself up out of sight, but he could not move hand or
foot.
Cornelia had in her mind a little speech she meant to deliver to
Bressant, on the subject of the previous night's event, but, at the
critical moment, she felt her courage forsaking her. The topic was so
weighty--and then she shrank from speaking out what was in her head,
perhaps because her auditor was there as well as her sentiments. Still,
she felt she ought to try.