I know you will help me."
She looked down, and said faintly, "Yes."
"Thank you." He smiled--"Bless me! what a little hand," he said, as he
let it fall.
She opened the door and as he followed her, stepped aside, saying
bravely, "Here is a friend, James. You will like to see Dr. Askew."
He took the chair she set at the bedside, while the Colonel regarded him
suspiciously, saying, "I think I heard of you after Gettysburg."
"Yes, I took care of General Hancock. A lot of us went down to help.
Curious case his--a ball hit the pommel of his saddle and drove a nail
into his leg."
"Yes, I heard of it. It was thought they were firing nails--queer that!"
Askew seized on the moment of illumined intelligence, wondering what dull
surgeon had set in this man's mind an obsession which forbade all other
opinion. "Hancock will suffer long--but now, about you--did no one think
you could be relieved by an operation? Take your time to answer me."
Penhallow, groping in the confusion of remote memories, returned, "I seem
to recall--yes--it was talked of--"
"But not done? Some one is responsible for these years of pain. You do
suffer?"
"Oh, my God! yes. I try to bear it." His eyes filled. "Is it too late?"
"No," said Askew, "it is not." What doubt he had he put aside.
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