Sitgreaves. The surgeon was found inquiring among the men for
professional employment, and inquisitively examining every bruise and
scratch that he could induce the sturdy warriors to acknowledge they had
received. A summons, of the sort conveyed by Katy, was instantly obeyed,
and not a minute elapsed before he was by the side of Miss Peyton.
"This is a melancholy termination to so joyful a commencement of the
night, madam," he observed, in a soothing manner. "But war must bring
its attendant miseries; though doubtless it often supports the cause of
liberty, and improves the knowledge of surgical science."
Miss Peyton could make no reply, but pointed to her niece.
"'Tis fever," answered Frances; "see how glassy is her eye, and look at
her cheek, how flushed."
The surgeon stood for a moment, deeply studying the outward symptoms of
his patient, and then he silently took her hand in his own. It was
seldom that the hard and abstracted features of Sitgreaves discovered
any violent emotion; all his passions seemed schooled, and his
countenance did not often betray what, indeed, his heart frequently
felt. In the present instance, however, the eager gaze of the aunt and
sister quickly detected his emotions. After laying his fingers for a
minute on the beautiful arm, which, bared to the elbow and glittering
with jewels, Sarah suffered him to retain, he dropped it, and dashing a
hand over his eyes, turned sorrowfully away.
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