But, in a while, he stirred and sighed, and presently
opened dreamy eyes, and thus it chanced that he beheld the door of
his chamber, and the door was quivering as though it had but just
closed. Then, as he lay watching it, sleepy-eyed, it opened again,
slowly and noiselessly, and John Peterby entered softly, took a step
towards the bed, but, seeing Barnabas was awake, stopped, and so
stood there very still.
Suddenly Barnabas smiled, and held out a hand to him.
"Why, John," said he, "my faithful John--is it you?"
"Sir," murmured Peterby, and coming forward, took that extended hand,
looking down at Barnabas joyful-eyed, and would have spoken, yet
uttered no other word.
"John," said Barnabas, glancing round the faded splendors of the
bed-chamber, "where am I, pray?"
"At Ashleydown, sir."
"Ashleydown?" repeated Barnabas, wrinkling his brow.
"Sir, you have been--very ill."
"Ah, yes, I was shot I remember--last night, I think?"
"Sir, it happened over three weeks ago."
"Three weeks!" repeated Barnabas, sitting up with an effort,
"three weeks, John?--Oh, impossible!"
"You have been very near death, sir.
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