became mutinous, and nothing but his steadiness and intrepidity had
saved the lives of himself and his few English companions. He was,
in fact, as Dr. May reported, pretty much of a hero. He had not, at
the time, felt the effects of the climate, but, owing to sickness and
death among the other officers, he had suffered much fatigue and
pressure of mind and body. Immediately on his return, had followed
his examination, and though he had passed with great credit, and it
had been at once followed by well-earned promotion, his nervous
excitable frame had been overtasked, and the consequence was a long
and severe illness.

The Swan Inn was not forty yards from Dr. May's back gate, and, at
every spare moment, he was doing the part of nurse as well as doctor,
professionally obliged to Alan Ernescliffe for bringing him a curious
exotic specimen of fever, and requiting him by the utmost care and
attention, while, for their own sakes, he delighted in the two boys
with all the enthusiasm of his warm heart. Before the first week was
at an end, they had learned to look on the doctor as one of the
kindest friends it had been their lot to meet with, and Alan knew
that if he died, he should leave his little brother in the hands of
one who would comfort him as a father.

No sooner was young Ernescliffe able to sit up, than Dr. May insisted
on conveying him to his own house, as his recovery was likely to be
tedious in solitude at the Swan. It was not till he had been drawn
in a chair along the sloping garden, and placed on the sofa to rest,
that he discovered that the time the good doctor had chosen for
bringing a helpless convalescent to his house, was two days after an
eleventh child had been added to his family.