The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1904-05-28

| she threw around the room, that a
heavy wooden mallet, stained with
! blood, lay close to the body; and she
| Instantly guessed that it was with this
weapon the wounds had been inflicted
which had laid Lord Catherington
senseless on the floor.
What should she do? There was not
| in the world a creature more Ignorant
than she of the proper. treatment OF
such injury as that from which he was
suffering. She had never seen a man
unconscious from injuries before, and
/ the first sight of the pale face, the
1 closed eyes, gave her such a shock
4 that for a moment she felt, as she took
4 his head upon her knee, as II she, too,
were losing consciousness Of all that
/ was around her.
Then, recovering herself she let
these words escape her lips, not
knowing that she spoke them:
/ i"Oh, Heaven, tell me what to do!
Give me knowledge that I may save
him!''
And as the words fell from her fall
| tering lips, she, with eyes instinctively
raised as her trembling prayer escaped
her, felt that he moved Looking
down again quickly, she saw that his
eyes were open, and that faint smile
lowered about his lips.
Thank heaven!'' sobbed she. Then
bending over him, she whispered,
helplessly: Tell me what to do"
/ He stared at her for a moment as
! If scarcely conscious who she was,
then reason gradually came back into
his eyes, and he smiled again, but
without speaking. Moving carefully,
so that she might disturb him as little
as possible, Beatrice then wiped the
! blood gently from his forehead and
looked for the wounds which had
stunned him. There were two-one
1 on the side Of the head and one on
the forehead. Both appeared to have
bled freely and from one the blood
was still oozing, tho slowly. She put
/ her finger on it tenderly, gingerly,
wondering whether she was doing
right.
Then she sat quite quietly watching
his face, into which, she fancied, the
look of healthy life was slowly COM
ing back.
But she was troubled by the thought
! that she might not be doing just the
right thing, the best thing, and hop
4 ing some one would come near enough
for her to call for help. AS this wish
came into her mind, she instinctively
raised her head and listened, Won
dering whether the men servants, who
1 had rushed out of the house in pur-
suit of Robert Burnet, would come
this way in their search for him.
And as she craned her neck to
listen, with her finger still pressed to
his forehead, Lord Catherington spoke
4 for the first time. His voice was not
4 so strong as usual, but there was a
delightful sense Of familiarity in hear
ing the old tones that made her face
radiant as she again bent over him.
4 Whats the matter? Can you hear
anything?"
4 She whispered back in answer, in
stinctively lowering her voice to the
fhat he foh I.
mo, I wish I could"
Il A pause. Ideas seemed to reach
his brain slowly Then he looked up.
d why? I don't"
Because I don't know what I ought
to do. Because I want help" said
she in the same low voice as before.
Help? What do you want help
4 for?''
well, I don't know whether I'm
doing the right thing Perhaps
ought to do something which would
help you to-to--'
ITO get up and walk about? Thank
you, I'm very comfortable as I am
Beatrice was silenced. She did not
quite know whether she was glad to
hear the old humorous tones in his
; voice again, or whether she was per-
picked at this somewhat f1ippant tone
in the wounded man. Was he in
clined to be light-headed? or was he
l him? She said nothing, but sat quite
still, with strange elation at hel
. heart. Even in the terrible distresses
8 she had endured and was still endur-
ing, she felt the soothing effect of the
knowledge that she was with him
that she had been able to do some
thing for him, however little it might
r be. And, unconsciously, sigh came
: f1uttering thru her parted lips.
} Whats the matter now?" asked he
f again.
: .Tm-I'm SO sorry that is, no, Tn
frightened. Don't talk. II there's
t anything I ought to do, tell me, but
: don't talk
Lord Catherington listened to this
+ very incoherent outburst with raised
: eyebrows. Perhaps, however, he I'M
J derstood more than he chose to admit
!. but all he said was:
You're rum sort of nurse!"
Il Tim not nurse at all, unluckily,'
I sighed she.
I why unluckily?"
8 oh, because I'm SO helpless, sc
:, stupid"
You are, just little. I'm hearth,
glad Of It,"
? Don't say that. I have so much tc
t do. and can do nothing
A sudden spasm Of fear had seized
!. anxiety on MS account had paSSeC
away, her thoughts reverted to the
t perpetrator Of the crime, and ther
T flew to her own little one. She was
: torn two ways. On the one hand
\ her heart bound her to Lord Gather.
: ington's side, now that he was wound.
ed, i'll; on the other, there was the
r terrible thought that while she re-
t manned with him, her child might be
: What have you got to do?''
AS he uttered these words, he sud
/ denly raised his head, and, half sit
ting up, looked into her face He1
/ eyes sank before him.
s What have you got to do? Dr.
: you want to go away? I can man.
: age for myself quite well if you do
t There was tone of pique, of re-
proach in his voice, which brought the
E tears to her eyes. Repenting at once
/ of what he had done to wound her
: Lord Catherington patted one of he,
: hands, and said in the old, kindly wa,
: which was like a vocal caress:
. There, there, don't look SO un
: happy. Why is it that we never cal
y talk long together without coming tx
, the verge of some sort Of quarrel, Of
!, misunderstanding? Tell me, now
!. what is it that is on your mind ?''
She started at him in amazement
Had he, then, forgotten what hae
:. just happened to him? Did he tax,
! no thought for the consequences of thu
: presence of the frenzied wretch wht
had attacked him, and who might still
. be lingering in the neighborhood?
> 1t almost seemed as if Lord Cath
= erington read her thoughts, for he ut
}, tered an exclamation, and began tt
~ ! -. L. GU 4