Mr. Rochester entered, and with him the surgeon he had been to fetch.
"Now, Carter, be on the alert;" he said to this last: "I give you but half an hour for dressing the wound, fastening the bandages, getting the patient down stairs and all."
"But is he fit to move, sir?"
"No doubt of it; it is nothing serious: he is nervous, his spirits must be kept up. Come, set to work."
Mr. Rochester drew back the thick curtain, drew up the holland blind, let in all the daylight he could; and I was surprised and cheered to see how far dawn was advanced: what rosy streaks were beginning to brighten the East. Then he approached Mason, whom the surgeon was already handling.
"Now, my good fellow, how are you?" he asked.
"She's done for me, I fear," was the faint reply.
"Not a whit!—courage! This day fortnight you'll hardly be a pin the worse of it: you've lost a little blood; that's all. Carter, assure him there's no danger."
"I can do that conscientiously," said Carter, who had now undone the bandages; "only I wish I could have got here sooner: he would
