University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.
THE DOCTOR OVERHEARS A PRIVATE CONVERSATION.

The large table was spread with every variety of eatables,
and the repast seemed to be a general commingling
of breakfast, dinner and supper. Meats of every sort—
venison, bear, ham, fowls, vegetables as for a dinner, coffee,
Jamaica rum, great flagons of thick creamy milk—these
were the components of the profuse mountain supper.

Every one hastened to help himself and his partner,
and it was refreshing to see with what gusto the young
damsels applied themselves to the rich ham and venison,
and how little “shamefacedness” they exhibited at eating
before their sweethearts. The supper was a merry one
—and as the old fiddler on his perch in the next room
had been plentifully supplied the first thing, and his
heart enlivened with a huge cup of rum, music was not
wanting to add to the universal mirth.

Two persons formed the only exceptions to the general
merriment—they alone did not add to the terrible uproar
by the sound of their voices. These persons were Sally
Myers—who was clad in a pretty white dress which set
off charmingly the fresh happy beauty of her face—and
the young man who had entered with father Von Horn.
They were whispering.

“I have not seen you for so long—nearly three days,”
said the girl.

The young man replied to this tender reproach more
by his look than his words. But, speaking in the same
tone:

“I have been kept away, darling,” he said.

“By what, Barry?”

“Oh, I could not tell you all now,” he replied with a
long happy look, “but if you could walk out to-morrow
morning—”

“Oh yes, I could.”

“Say to the Moss Rock on the Sleepy Mountain,” said
the young man.

“Indeed, I will, dear Barry.”

“At sunrise then, dear.”

“And at the Moss Rock.”

“Yes.”

It was plain that the conversation was becoming very
stupid, but the lovers made up for this by their looks.

“You didn't know I am at the branch now nearly
every morning did you, Barry—early I mean.”

“Down at the branch?”

“Yes. I go down there very often—nearly every day:
the place is so pretty, and I think of you, you know.”

“Of me, dear?”

“Yes, and I am very happy; I was down there this
morning, and what do you think happened to me?”

“Happened to you?”

“Just as I had my feet in the cool water with my
shoes off, down came Doctor Thomas, the gentleman who
came yesterday—”

“And frightened you nearly to death; eh, Miss Sally!”
said the voice of the doctor behind the lovers.

The girl started, and the young man turned round, with
a face flushed and a little angry.

“I did not know you were so near, sir,” said Barry,
coldly.

“Oh, my friend it is my place; I am a doctor. Now
you know the French proverb—or rather you probably
don't know it, so I say nothing more.”

The young man seemed both angry and embarrassed.

A singular smile passed across the face of Doctor Thomas
and turning to Sally:

“You returned me good for evil, however,” he said,
“how sweetly you do sing, and how soon you sang at
my solicitation.”

Sally pouted and looked annoyed; the young man
angry. But at that moment one of the young girls ran
up and catching the doctor by the arm cried to him:

“Oh sir, come if you please! Nina Lyttelton says she
has half cut her hand off and won't have any one but
you to fix it.”

Doctor Thomas chuckled to himself, and with a low
bow turned to follow his conductress. At the other end
of the room the lady with the cut hand was seated on a
wicker bench calling for the doctor, and wringing her
pretty hand.

“I am here, madam,” said the doctor, with a low bow;
and he smiled.