816 WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 
She gradually recovered from the swoon, and, half rising, 
stared vaguely about her for an instant—but her first words 
were— 
“Ts he alive?” This was spoken in a suffocating voice, 
while her lips trembled. 
“ He still lives, and I hope is not mortally hurt !” 
“God be thanked, and let humanity rejoice!” she said 
solemnly, and with a start she sprang to her feet. “You are 
hurt, young man—I see blood upon you !” 
I had been too much excited to think of my own wound, 
although I now felt that the pain had been considerable— 
however, it proved to be, upon examination, but slight, and 
gave me of itself but little trouble afterwards. It was merelya 
flesh wound in the thigh of the same leg that had been injured 
in the storm, and, as is frequently the case, rather accelerated 
the cure of that injury. The vital functions, thus extraordi- 
narily aroused, it is well known, do often throw off the old as 
well as the new disease, by the one great effort thus concen- 
trated upon the local seat of the disturbance. Be this as it 
may, I did not suffer from lameness much after this—although 
I had a great amount of exertion devolved upon me by this 
sudden catastrophe. 
The woman, after assisting me in dressing my wound, said 
to me gravely— 
“‘Now, young man, much depends upon you! You are not 
a great deal hurt—as God would have it—while I am griev- 
ously—and my poor William must probably remain long in 
this stupor !” 
She was carefully examining him without disturbing my 
dressings, further than to saturate them with water. 
“‘T can hope,” she said, as she rose from the examination 
and drew a long breath—“I can hope tfat your opinion of 
the wound may prove correct—for his pulse, though slow, is 
strong enough yet—but it must be a long time before he 
recovers his faculties. His brain is so immense and so dis- 
