“My dignity cannot suffer from his presumptuous folly, so long as I do not permit him to see that I know it; and as for the rest, this love may do his character good; may elevate it!” And having laid this balm to her wounded pride, Claudia closed her eyes.

So near sunrise was it when Miss Merlin dropped off that, once asleep, she continued to sleep on until late in the day.

Meanwhile all the rest of the family were up and astir.  The doctor came early and went in to see his patient.  The judge breakfasted alone, and then joined the doctor in the sick-room.  Ishmael was awake, but pale, languid, and suffering.  The doctor was seated beside him.  He had just finished dressing his wounds, and had ordered some light nourishment, which old Katie had left the room to bring.

“How is your patient getting along, doctor?” inquired the judge.

“Oh, he is doing very well—­very well indeed,” replied the doctor, putting the best face on a bad affair, after the manner of his class.

“How do you feel, my lad?” inquired the judge, bending over the patient.

“In some pain; but no more than I can very well bear, thank you, sir,” said Ishmael courteously.  But his white and quivering lip betrayed the extremity of his suffering, and the difficulty he experienced in speaking at all.

“I must beg, sir, that you will not talk to him; he must be left in perfect quietness,” whispered the doctor.

At this moment old Katie returned with a little light jelly on a plate.  The doctor slowly administered a few teaspoonfuls to his patient, and then returned the plate to the nurse.

“Miss Claudia ordered me to call her as soon as the young man woke; and now as his wounds is dressed, and he has had somethin’ to eat, I might’s well go call her,” suggested Katie.

At the hearing of Claudia’s name Ishmael’s eyes flew open, and a hectic spot blazed upon his pale cheek.  The doctor, who had his eye upon his patient, noticed this, as he replied: 

“Upon no account!  Neither Miss Merlin nor anyone else must be permitted to enter his room for days to come—­not until I give leave.  You will see this obeyed, judge?” he inquired, turning to his host.

“Assuredly,” replied the latter.

At these words the color faded from Ishmael’s face and the light from his eyes.

The doctor arose and took leave.

The judge attended him to the door, saw him depart, and was in the act of turning into his own house when he perceived Reuben Gray approaching.

Judge Merlin paused to wait for his overseer.  Reuben Gray came up, took off his hat, and stood before his employer with the most comical blending of emotions on his weather-beaten countenance, where joy, grief, satisfaction, and anxiety seemed to strive for the mastery.

“Well, Gray, what is it?” inquired the judge.

“Please, sir, how is Ishmael?” entreated Reuben, anxiety getting the upper hand for the moment.