“A bad business,” he said, rising and beginning to draw on his gloves.  “You are not fit to travel, but are welcome to stay here for the present; had better lie down on the sofa there and take a nap while I am away visiting my patients.  Nap, clean the mud and blood from the gentleman’s clothes; take his boots out and clean them too; and see that he doesn’t want for attention while I am gone.  Good-morning, sir; make yourself at home.”  And the doctor walked out, giving Nap a slight sign to follow him.

“Nap,” he said, when they were out of ear-shot of the stranger, “watch that man and keep him here if possible, till I come back.”

“Yes, sah.”

Nap went back into the office while the doctor mounted and rode away.

“Humph,” he said, half aloud, as he cantered briskly along, “took me for a fool, did he? thought I couldn’t tell where the shot went in and where it came out, or where it would go in or out if caused in that way.  No, sir, you never gave yourself that wound; but the question is who did? and what for? have you been house-breaking or some other mischief?” Dr. Balis was traveling in the direction of Viamede, intending to call there too, but having several patients to visit on the way, did not arrive until the late breakfast of its master and mistress was over.

They were seated together on the veranda, her hand in his, the other arm thrown lightly about her waist, talking earnestly, and so engrossed with each other and the subject of their conversation, that they did not at first observe the doctor’s approach.

Uncle Joe was at work on the lawn, clearing away the leaves and twigs blown down by the storm.

“Mornin’, Massa Doctah; did you heyah de news, sah?” he said, pulling off his hat and making a profound obeisance, as he stepped forward to take the visitor’s horse.

“No, uncle, what is it?”

“Burglah, sir, burglah broke in de house las’ night, an’ fire he revolvah at massa an’ Miss Elsie.  Miss dem, dough, an’ got shot hisself.”

“Possible!” cried the doctor in great excitement, springing from the saddle and hurrying up the steps of the veranda.

“Ah, doctor, good-morning.  Glad to see you, sir,” said Mr. Travilla, rising to give the physician a hearty shake of the hand.

“Thank you, sir.  How are you after your fright?  Mrs. Travilla, you are looking a little pale; and no wonder.  Uncle Joe tells me you had a visit from a burglar last night?”

“A murderer, sir; one whose object was to take my husband’s life,” Elsie answered with a shudder, and in low, tremulous tones, leaning on Edward’s arm and gazing into his face with eyes swimming with tears of love and gratitude.

“My wife’s also, I fear,” Mr. Travilla said with emotion, fondly stroking her sunny hair.

“Indeed! why this is worse and worse!  But he did not succeed in wounding either of you?”

“No; his ball passed over our heads, grazing mine so closely as to cut off a lock of my hair.  But I wounded him, must have cut an artery, I think, from the bloody trail he left behind him.”