St. Aubert, who instantly alighted and went to his assistance,
found him still sitting on his horse, but bleeding profusely, and
appearing to be in great pain, though he endeavoured to soften the
terror of St. Aubert by assurances that he was not materially hurt, the
wound being only in his arm. St. Aubert, with the muleteer, assisted him
to dismount, and he sat down on the bank of the road, where St. Aubert
tried to bind up his arm, but his hands trembled so excessively that he
could not accomplish it; and, Michael being now gone in pursuit of the
horse, which, on being disengaged from his rider, had galloped off,
he called Emily to his assistance. Receiving no answer, he went to the
carriage, and found her sunk on the seat in a fainting fit. Between the
distress of this circumstance and that of leaving Valancourt bleeding,
he scarcely knew what he did; he endeavoured, however, to raise her,
and called to Michael to fetch water from the rivulet that flowed by the
road, but Michael was gone beyond the reach of his voice. Valancourt,
who heard these calls, and also the repeated name of Emily, instantly
understood the subject of his distress; and, almost forgetting his own
condition, he hastened to her relief. She was reviving when he
reached the carriage; and then, understanding that anxiety for him had
occasioned her indisposition, he assured her, in a voice that trembled,
but not from anguish, that his wound was of no consequence.
While he said this St. Aubert turned round, and perceiving that he was still
bleeding, the subject of his alarm changed again, and he hastily formed
some handkerchiefs into a bandage. This stopped the effusion of the
blood; but St. Aubert, dreading the consequence of the wound, enquired
repeatedly how far they were from Beaujeu; when, learning that it was
at two leagues' distance, his distress increased, since he knew not how
Valancourt, in his present state, would bear the motion of the carriage,
and perceived that he was already faint from loss of blood. When he
mentioned the subject of his anxiety, Valancourt entreated that he would
not suffer himself to be thus alarmed on his account, for that he had no
doubt he should be able to support himself very well; and then he talked
of the accident as a slight one. The muleteer being now returned with
Valancourt's horse, assisted him into the chaise; and, as Emily was now
revived, they moved slowly on towards Beaujeu.
St. Aubert, when he had recovered from the terror occasioned him by this
accident, expressed surprise on seeing Valancourt, who explained
his unexpected appearance by saying, 'You, sir, renewed my taste for
society; when you had left the hamlet, it did indeed appear a solitude.
I determined, therefore, since my object was merely amusement, to change
the scene; and I took this road, because I knew it led through a more
romantic tract of mountains than the spot I have left. Besides,' added
he, hesitating for an instant, 'I will own, and why should I not? that I
had some hope of overtaking you.'