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across his face, the unwashed token of his encounter with Hume and Smollet in Fitzcribb's closet, appalled poor Annie, who knew nothing of the copious phlebotomy he had undergone : she thought she saw Grunter's spectre, and, taken by surprise, she shrieked aloud.
“What has happened to you?" she said nervously, shrouding her eyes—“what is the cause of this dreadful change?”
“ Intense study!" groaned Grunter. “The Philosophy of History and the History of Philosophy have reduced me to this state. Give me,” he cried, with something of the excitement of delirium—“give me my introductory remarks — give me the proof-sheets. Here, listen, while I read the opening. Oh, if I am but spared to finish this great work !--give it me.”
“ No,” said Jobb, authoritatively ; “ not till
you are in a very different state. Human life is not to be sacrificed in the cause of science—at least, only in hospitals.””
Annie ventured another look. Grunter
was extending his long arm and immense hand for the first sheets of his book; his white cotton nightcap was perched over one eye; there was a frightful excitement in his livid face.
“ He shall die! he shall die !” she exclaimed, inadvertently. “ Why is he so ghastly pale? What is that black mark ?”
“What black mark ?” groaned Grunter, suddenly sitting up, and looking from his bed at an opposite glass. “Is that my face ?” he wildly cried, tearing off his cap. martyr of science! Oh, what a wreck !" He burst into tears, and sank back on his pillow. Annie wept too.
“ Fear not for him,” whispered Jobb ; " he is faint and light-headed from loss of blood; he will do yet; but you, my dear! there is great nervous excitement about you ; your hand is hot, your pulse quick; you ought to lose a leetle blood without loss of time.”
Annie looked at the sobbing leviathan in the bed; she saw the result of loss of blood, and, glancing with terror at Mr. Jobb, whose hand had mechanically lighted on his lancet, case, she broke from him, and ran hastily away.
She stopped not till she found herself in Miss Tibby's room.
Miss Tibby was sitting upright in her bed, in a towering nightcap and a dimity dressing-gown; the counterpane was covered with old letters, faded flowers, knots of ribbon, and old-fashioned keepsakes.
Having obtained a complete victory, and driven Grizzy Douglas from the field, she was re-examining and arranging all her precious relics of Donald o' the brae; her cheek was flushed with triumph and vanity, as she read the time-worn tribute to her charms. She was living in the Past ; not like poor Grizzy, feeling that it was the Past, but blending it with the Present, and, in fancy, growing young again as she read the words, “Loveliest of women! Idol of my heart !” and “ Divinest Tibby,” addressed to herself.
“Ye come upon me somewhat unawares, lassie,” she said to Annie; “it would be mair becoming in you to knock at the door." But she was evidently not angry, that Annie
should see the numerous tributes. just looking over the letters of a mon very unlike what men are now-a-days, sae spectfu' and devoted. I dinna think the men of the present day feel luve as they did when I was a lassie, nor do I think the women are able to inspire the passion," and the high caul of Miss Tibby's cap quivered with importance.
Annie, seeing her old relative thus employed, felt sure that she had not heard of Julian's accident, and dreaded to alarm her by alluding to it. She was mistakenservants so fond of exciting horror, and of being the first to tell a wondrous tale, had informed Miss Tibby of the whole. On first hearing of it, she expressed great regret and alarm, and compared the violence of young men of the present day with the patience and politeness of those of her youth; but the impassibility of old age prevented her feeling much, and ere long she settled to, what to her was more important, arranging the letters of Donald o' the brae.
“Why are you in bed, aunt ?” asked Annie.
“I was just quite upset by the insults and doots of Grizzy, my dear ; I'm na that strang to stand it a’ and bear up. I canna hear the luve o' Donald o' the brae disputed, and anither lay claim to it, besides being accused amaist of leeing mysel. I'm sair indisposed, my dear, and I canna rise to-day. I'll thank you to send my brose to me when they're ready, and I'll try to eat a bit o'chicken and tak a glass o’ wine.”
“You ken Mr. Grunter is not weel, aunt."
“Not weel ! I hear he's been weel nigh deed, puir mon ! he canna have a strang head, if a month or twa of hard study brings on a bleeding o' his leg. My faither studied hard night and day, but the like never hoppened to him!”
“ Have you heard ony thing of Julian, aunt?”
“ I've heard enoo, and too much; puir, rash callant, to risk his life, and for a bauld playactor too! It was na sae in my younger days; Douglas o' Glen Douglas once wished