The Waverley novels, by Sir Walter Scott, complete in 12 vol., printed from the latest English ed., embracing the author's last corrections, prefaces & notes.

WOODSTOCK. 165
clamation, when he saw what had happened, crying out, "Lord in heaven,
he has slain his own son!"
"No, no —I tell you no," said the fallen young man, who was indeed
young Albert Lee, the only son of the old knight; "I am not hurt. No
noise, on your lives; get lights instantly." At the same time, he started
from the floor as quickly as he could, under the embarrassment of a cloak
and doublet skewered as it were together by the rapier of the old knight,
whose pass, most fortunately, had been diverted from the body of Albert
by the interruption of his cloak, the blade passing right across his back,
piercing the clothes, while the hilt coming against his side with the whole
force of the longe, had borne him to the ground.
Joceline all the while enjoined silence to every one, under the strictest
conjurations. "Silence, as you would long live on earth -silence, as ye
would have a place in heaven; be but silent for a few minutes -all our
lives depend on it."
Meantime he procured lights with inexpressible dispatch, and they then
beheld that Sir Henry, on hearing the fatal words, had sunk back on one
of the large chairs, without either motion, colour, or sign of life.
"Oh, brother, how could you come in this manner?" said Alice.
"Ask no questions-Good God! for what am I reserved!" He gazed on
his father as he spoke, who, with clay-cold features rigidly fixed, and his
arms extended in the most absolute helplessness, looked rather the image
of death upon a monument, than a being in whom existence was only suspended. "Was my life spared," said Albert, raising his hands with a wild
gesture to heaven, "only to witness such a sight as this!"
"We suffer what Heaven permits, young man; we endure our lives while
Heaven continues them. Let me approach." The same clergyman who
had read the prayers at Joceline's hut now came forward. " Get water," he
said, "instantly." And the helpful hand and light foot of Alice, with the
ready-witted tenderness which never stagnates in vain lamentations while
there is any room for hope, provided with incredible celerity all that the
clergyman called for.
" It is but a swoon," he said, on feeling Sir Henry's palm; " a swoon produced from the instant and unexpected shock. Rouse thee up, Albert; I
promise thee it will be nothing save a syncope-A cup, my dearest Alice,
and a ribbon or a bandage. I must take some blood-some aromatics, too,
if they can be had, my good Alice."
But while Alice procured the cup and bandage, stripped her father's
sleeve, and seemed by intuition even to anticipate every direction of the
reverend doctor, her brother, hearing no word, and seeing no sign of
comfort, stood with both hands clasped and elevated into the air, a monument of speechless despair. Every feature in his face seemed to express
the thought, "Here lies my father's corpse, and it is I whose rashness has
slain him!"
But when a few drops of blood began to follow the lancet-at first falling
singly, and then trickling in a freer stream -when, in consequence of the
application of cold water to the temples, and aromatics to the nostrils, the
old man sighed feebly, and made an effort to move his limbs, Albert Lee
changed his posture, at once to throw himself at the feet of the clergyman,
and kiss, if he would have permitted him, his shoes and the hem of his
raiment.
" Risb, foolish youth," said the good man, with a reproving tone; "must
it be always thus with you? Kneel to Heaven, not to the feeblest of its
agents. You have been saved once again from great danger; would you
deserve Heaven's bounty, remember you have been preserved for other purposes than you now think on. Begone, you and Joceline-you have a duty
to discharge; and be assured it will go better with your father's recovery