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Ashton, Warren T.

"Hatchie, the Guardian Slave; or, The Heiress of Bellevue"


At the request of the good physician, she reluctantly withdrew from the
apartment.
The sufferer endeavored to turn in the bed; the effort drew from him a
groan of agony, which, in a more wakeful state, a proud superiority over
every weakness would not have permitted him to utter. His eyes opened,
and he stared vacantly about the darkened chamber. The doctor took his
hand, and examined his pulse.
"How do you feel, captain? Does your head ache?" asked he.
"Slightly; I am better, I think," replied the invalid, faintly.
"And you are better," said the doctor, with evident satisfaction. "The
scalds are doing very well, and the wound on your head is not at all
serious."
"Now, sir, will you tell me where I am?"
Dr. Vaudelier imparted the information.
"Emily! Emily! Won but lost again!" murmured Henry. "Would that we had
sunk together beneath the dark tide!"
"Do not distress yourself, my dear captain. We must be careful of this
fever."
"Distress myself!" returned Henry, not a little provoked at the coolness
of the doctor.


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