We turned in silence from the
road, crossed a little sparsely wooded hill, and arrived in the
thicket-screened hollow.
'Twas in silence we had come. I had felt there was much I would like,
and ought, to say, but something in Tom's mood or mine, or in the
situation, benumbed my thoughts so they would not come forth, or
jumbled them so I knew not where to begin. Arrived upon the ground
with a palpitating sense of the nearness of the event, we found
ourselves still less fit for utterance of the things deepest in our
minds.
"There'll be some danger of slipping on the frozen snow," said I,
trying to assume a natural, even a cheerful, tone.
"'Tis an even danger to both of us," said Tom, speaking quickly to
maintain a steadiness of voice, as a drunken man walks fast to avoid a
crookedness of gait.
While we were tramping about to keep warm, the Irish surgeon came to
us through the bushes, vowing 'twas "the divvle's own weather, shure
enough, barrin' the hivvenly moonlight." Opening his capacious
greatcoat, he brought from concealment a small case, which Tom eyed
askance, and I regarded ominously, though it had but a mere
professional aspect to its owner.
We soon heard the tread, and the low but easy voices, of Captain
Falconer and Lieutenant Campbell; who joined us with salutations,
graceful on Falconer's part, and naturally awkward on that of
Campbell. How I admired the unconcerned, leisurely manner in which
Falconer, having gone a little aloof from Tom and me, removed his
overcoat, laced coat, and waistcoat, giving a playful shiver,
purposely exaggerated, as he stood in his ruffled shirt and
well-fitting boots and breeches.
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