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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Flight of the Shadow"

Just as I began to be really uneasy at his prolonged
absence, there he was, with a man on his back apparently lifeless!
I did not stop to stare or question, but made haste to help him. His
burden was slipping sideways, so we lowered it on a chair, and then
carried it between us into the kitchen, I holding the legs. The moment a
ray of light fell upon the face, I saw it was my uncle.
I just saved myself from a scream. My heart stopped, then bumped as if it
would break through. I turned sick and cold. We laid him on the sofa, but
I still held on to the legs; I was half unconscious. Martha set me on a
chair, and in a moment or two I came to myself, and was able to help her.
She said never a word, but was quite collected, looking every now and
then in the face of her cousin with a doglike devotion, but never
stopping an instant to gaze. We got him some brandy first, then some hot
milk, and then some soup. He took a little of everything we offered him.
We did not ask him a single question, but, the moment he revived, carried
him up the stair, and laid him in bed. Once he cast his eyes about, and
gave a sigh as of relief to find himself in his own room, then went off
into a light doze, which, broken with starts and half-wakings, lasted
until next day about noon. Either John or Martha or I was by his bedside
all the time, so that he should not wake without seeing one of us near
him.


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