Leaving him, therefore, endeavoring to conceal his chagrin
in the solitude of his chamber, the surgeon proceeded to the
more grateful task of sitting an hour by the bedside of
George Singleton. A slight flush was on the face of the
patient as the doctor entered the room; and the latter ad-
vanced promptly, and laid his fingers on the pulse of the
youth, beckoning to him to be silent, while he muttered to
himself:

" Growing symptoms of a febrile pulse — no, no, my dear
George, you must remain quiet and dumb ; though your eyes
look better, and your skin has even a moisture."

"Nay, my dear Sitgreaves," said the youth, taking his
hand, " you see there is no fever about me ; look, is there
any of Jack Lawton's hoar-frost on my tongue?"

" No, indeed," said the surgeon, clapping a spoon in the
mouth of the other, forcing it open, and looking down his
throat as if disposed to visit the interior in person ; " the
tongue is well, and the pulse begins to lower again. Ah!
the bleeding did you good. Phlebotomy is a sovereign
specific for southern constitutions. But that madcap Law-
ton obstinately refused to be blooded for a fall he had from
his horse last night. Why, George, your case is becoming
singular," continued the doctor, instinctively throwing aside
his wig; "your pulse even and soft, your skin moist, but
your eye fiery, and cheek flushed. Oh! I must examine
more closely into these symptoms."

" Softly, my good friend, softly," said the youth, falling
back on his pillow, and losing some of that color which



1 68 THE SPY.
