I thanked Captain Atkinson for his services, and was
left alone; for I had sent Timothy to ascertain if
Harcourt had arrived safe at his lodgings. Never
did I feel more miserable; my anxiety for Harcourt
was indescribable; true, he had not treated me well,
but I thought of his venerable father, who pressed
my hand so warmly when I left his hospitable roof—of
his lovely sisters, and the kindness and affection
which they had shown towards me, and our extreme intimacy.
I thought of the pain which the intelligence would
give them, and their indignation towards me, when
their brother first made his appearance at his father’s
house, mutilated; and were he to die—good
God! I was maddened at the idea. I had now
undone the little good I had been able to do.
If I had made Fleta and her mother happy, had I not
plunged another family into misery?
This is a strange world;
I am cut by a man of no character,
because he is fearful
that I should injure his character.
Timothy returned, and brought me consolation—the
bleeding had not re-commenced, and Harcourt was in
tolerable spirits. An eminent surgeon had been
sent for. “Go again, my dear Timothy, and
as you are intimate with Harcourt’s servant,
you will be able to find out what they are about.”
Timothy departed, and was absent about an hour, during
which I lay on the sofa, and groaned with anguish.
When he returned, I knew by his face that his intelligence
was favourable. “All’s right,”
cried Timothy; “no amputation after all.
It was only one of the smaller arteries which was
severed, and they have taken it up.”
I sprang up from the sofa and embraced Timothy, so
happy was I with the intelligence, and then I sat
down again, and cried like a child. At last I
became more composed. I had asked Captain Atkinson
to dine with me, and was very glad when he came.
He confirmed Timothy’s report, and I was so
overjoyed, that I sat late at dinner, drinking very
freely, and when he again proposed that we should
go to the rouge et noir table, I did not refuse—on
the contrary, flushed with wine, I was anxious to go,
and took all the money that I had with me. On
our arrival Atkinson played, but finding that he was
not fortunate, he very soon left off. As I had
followed his game, I also had lost considerably, and
he entreated me not to play any more—but
I was a gamester it appeared, and I would not pay
attention to him, and did not quit the table until
I had lost every shilling in my pocket. I left
the house in no very good humour, and Atkinson, who
had waited for me, accompanied me home.
