"Eating!" cried the astonished physician. "Captain Lawton, do you wish
to die?"
"I have no particular ambition that way," said the trooper, rising, and
bowing good night to the ladies, "and, therefore, have been providing
materials necessary to preserve life."
The surgeon muttered his dissatisfaction, while he followed Mason and
the captain from the apartment.
Every house in America had, at that day, what was emphatically called
its best room, and this had been allotted, by the unseen influence of
Sarah, to Colonel Wellmere. The down counterpane, which a clear frosty
night would render extremely grateful over bruised limbs, decked the
English officer's bed. A massive silver tankard, richly embossed with
the Wharton arms, held the beverage he was to drink during the night;
while beautiful vessels of china performed the same office for the two
American captains. Sarah was certainly unconscious of the silent
preference she had been giving to the English officer; and it is equally
certain, that but for his hurts, bed, tankard, and everything but the
beverage would have been matters of indifference to Captain Lawton, half
of whose nights were spent in his clothes, and not a few of them in the
saddle. After taking possession, however, of a small but very
comfortable room, Doctor Sitgreaves proceeded to inquire into the state
of his injuries.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199