From time to time Bainbridge would step to the bedside, and
place his hand on the old man's forehead; and later he would every now
and then put an arm about the invalid's body, and raise him up to take a
swallow of nourishment or wine.
Before morning, Bainbridge had reached a stage of familiarity that
permitted him to sit on the edge of Peters' bed and talk to the old
fellow briefly and quietly about his farm, and of Doctor Castleton's
goodness and ability, and on other subjects presumably interesting to
the invalid. Bainbridge would gently pat the poor old man on a shoulder,
and smooth his head--somewhat as one does in making the acquaintance of
a big dog. By morning Peters was thoroughly accustomed to our presence;
and he seemed to take our watchfulness as a matter of course, and even
to look for our attentions as a kind of right. He had slept several
hours through the night, and at five o'clock was awake and seemingly
much improved. Not the slightest delirium, even of the passive form--in
fact, nothing of a nature that could alarm or disconcert us, had
occurred. Bainbridge had mentioned eight o'clock as about the time he
would broach the subject of subjects to Peters, intending, as a matter
of course, to lead up to it by very tactful gradations, passing from
journeys in the abstract to the journeys in the concrete, thence to sea
voyages, and thence, perhaps, to some mention of recent arctic (not
antarctic) explorations; and then, asking no questions yet, to proceed
to a mention of Nantucket, from which vantage ground the propriety of
risking a mention of the name Barnard would be considered.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93