'Shall I bring him in, father?' asked Barnaby, who had looked on,
wondering.
He only answered with a suppressed groan, and lying down upon the
ground, wrapped his cloak about his head, and shrunk into the darkest
corner.
Finding that nothing would rouse Hugh now, or make him sensible for a
moment, Barnaby dragged him along the grass, and laid him on a little
heap of refuse hay and straw which had been his own bed; first having
brought some water from a running stream hard by, and washed his wound,
and laved his hands and face. Then he lay down himself, between the two,
to pass the night; and looking at the stars, fell fast asleep.
Awakened early in the morning, by the sunshine and the songs of birds,
and hum of insects, he left them sleeping in the hut, and walked into
the sweet and pleasant air. But he felt that on his jaded senses,
oppressed and burdened with the dreadful scenes of last night, and many
nights before, all the beauties of opening day, which he had so often
tasted, and in which he had had such deep delight, fell heavily. He
thought of the blithe mornings when he and the dogs went bounding on
together through the woods and fields; and the recollection filled his
eyes with tears.
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