and then gave him some brandy. His comrades standing round watched her
admiringly, she was so deft and delicate. Brydon, as if to be nursed and
cared for was not manly, felt ashamed, and came up quickly to a sitting
posture, saying, "Pshaw! I'm all right!" But he turned sick immediately,
and Judith's arms caught his head and shoulders as he fell back. His face
turned, and was pillowed on her bosom. At this she blushed, but a look of
singular dignity came into her face. Those standing by were struck with a
kind of awe; they were used mostly to the daughters of habitants and
fifty-acre farmers. Her sensitive face spoke a wonderful language: a
divine gratitude and thankfulness; and her eyes had a clear moisture
which did not dim them. The situation was trying to the river-drivers--it
was too refined; and they breathed more freely when they got outside and
left the girl, her grandfather, Pierre, and the young doctor alone with
the injured man.

That was how the thing began. Pierre saw the conclusion of events from
the start. The young doctor did not. From the hour when he bound up
Brydon's head, Judith's fingers aiding him, he felt a spring in his blood
new to him. When he came to know exactly what it meant, and acted, it was
too late. He was much surprised that his advances were gently repulsed.
He pressed them hard: that was a mistake. He had an idea, not uncommon in
such cases, that he was conferring an honour. But he was very young. A
gold medal in anatomy is likely to turn a lad's head at the start. He
falls into the error that the ability to demonstrate the medulla
oblongata should likewise suffice to convince the heart of a maid. Pierre
enjoyed the situation; he knew life all round; he had boxed the compass
of experience.

He believed in Judith. The old man interested him: he was a wreck out of
an unfamiliar life.