ladder against the wall, when I came to myself—had opened on it before my mind saw it—and thus as I recovered consciousness, I knew that I was in the place where I had lost it.
Too indifferent at first, even to look round and ascertain who supported me, I was lying looking at the ladder, when there came between me and it a face. The face of Trabb’s boy!
“I think he’s all right!” said Trabb’s boy, in a sober voice; “but ain’t he just pale though!”
At these words, the face of him who supported me looked over into mine, and I saw my supporter to be—
“Herbert! Great Heaven!”
“Softly,” said Herbert. “Gently, Handel. Don’t be too eager.”
“And our old comrade, Startop!” I cried, as he too bent over me.
“Remember what he is going to assist us in,” said Herbert, “and be calm.”
The allusion made me spring up; though I dropped again from the pain in my arm. “The time has not gone by, Herbert, has it? What night is tonight? How long have I been here?” For, I had a strange and strong misgiving that I had been lying there a long time—a day and a night—two days and nights—more.
“The time has not gone by. It is still Monday night.”
“Thank God!”
“And you have all tomorrow, Tuesday, to rest in,” said Herbert. “But you can’t help groaning, my dear Handel. What hurt have you got? Can you stand?”