A strong hand put me
back into my seat, and held me there. It was
Robert. The instant my eye met his my heart
began to beat, and all along my nerves tingled
that electric flash which foretells a danger that we
cannot see. He was very pale, his mouth grim,
and both eyes full of sombre fire,--for even the
wounded one was open now, all the more sinister
for the deep scar above and below. But his touch
was steady, his voice quiet, as he said,--
"Sit still, Ma'am; I won't hurt yer, nor even
scare yer, if I can help it, but yer waked too
soon."
"Let me go, Robert,--the captain is stirring,
--I must give him something."
"No, Ma'am, yer can't stir an inch. Look
here!"
Holding me with one hand, with the other he
took up the glass in which I had left the draught,
and showed me it was empty.
"Has he taken it?" I asked, more and more
bewildered.
"I flung it out o' winder, Ma'am; he'll have to
do without."
"But why, Robert? why did you do it?"
"Because I hate him!"
Impossible to doubt the truth of that; his whole
face showed it, as he spoke through his set teeth,
and launched a fiery glance at the unconscious
captain.
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