I think, from signs which met my eyes, that something more
than bitter words passed occasionally between the ill-matched
couple.
Late in the day, nearly five years anterior to the time of which I
am now writing, I was summoned in haste to visit Captain Allen. I
found him lying on a bed in the north-west chamber, where he usually
slept, in a state of insensibility. Mrs. Allen received me at the
door of the chamber with a frightened countenance. On inquiry as to
the cause of his condition, she informed me that he had gone to his
own room about an hour before, a little the worse for a bottle of
wine; and that she had heard nothing more from him, until she was
startled by a loud, jarring noise in his chamber. On running up
stairs, she found him lying upon the floor, insensible.
I looked at her steadily, as she gave me this relation, but could
not hold her eyes in mine. She seemed more uneasy than troubled.
There was a contused wound just below the right temple, which
covered, with its livid stain, a portion of the cheek. A cursory
examination satisfied me that, whatever might be the cause of his
fall, congestion of the brain had occurred, and that but few chances
for life remained.
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