ck hair starting out from it on all
sides. The skin of his face had become crimped and yellow; but the most
remarkable change of all was, that his hair, a dark auburn when I knew
him, was quite silvery, not exactly white or gray, but gleaming all
over. This gave him almost an unearthly appearance.

"The weather was cold, and pinched him; and after the first few words of
recognition were over, he told me that the changes of the season
affected him severely. A bullet was lodged somewhere in his shoulder,
and the easterly winds always inflicted excruciating agonies upon him in
consequence. This led to an inquiry as to how it happened, which brought
out the whole narrative."

Forrester here entered into all the details, which were accurate enough
in the main, only that they were drawn from the dwarf's point of sight,
and colored by his own vehemence and malice. We constantly stopped
Forrester, to set him right on particular points; and long before he had
wound up the story, we found ourselves embroiled in assertions and
rejoinders, which must have greatly bewildered him. Without wasting time
over matters with which the reader is already acquainted, I will confine
myself to the only new facts Forrester had to relate to us.

On the night when we had the rencontre with the little demon, the ball,
as I apprehended, had struck him in the scuffle, and entering the fleshy
part of the arm, had settled in the back. Crawling off in considerable
pain, when he found that his appeal to Astraea was useless, and bleeding
the whole way, he regained a carriage which was waiting for him at a
little distance, and drove back to London. His intention was to return
the next day; but loss of blood, agony of mind, prostration of strength,
and physical pain rendered the journey impossible. For several days his
life hung on a thread, and two or three months elapsed before he was
able to move about the house. An awful change had passed over him in
the mean while! It cost even Astraea some struggle to hide the shock
which Forrester's description of his sufferings inflicted on her. Poor
Astraea! she had need to shut her heart against pity, and to crush all
tenderness out of her nature. This was her work--and mine! What would
have become of her if she had allowed herself to look back upon it, and
think, and feel? No, no; she dared not look there with a woman's eyes or
a woman's heart. It would have killed her, had she felt it, and given
way to it. And