CHAPTER V.
MARK FORRESTER--THE GOLD VILLAGE.
There were moments when Ralph Colleton, as he lay bruised and wounded
upon the sward, in those wild woods, and beneath the cool canopy of
heaven, was conscious of his situation, of its exposure and its
perils--moments, when he strove to recover himself--to shake off the
stupor which seemed to fetter his limbs as effectually as it paralyzed
his thoughts;--and the renewed exercise of his mental energies, brought
about, and for a little while sustained, an increased consciousness,
which perhaps rather added to his pain. It taught him his own weakness,
when he strove vainly to support himself against the tree to which he
had crawled; and in despair, the acuteness of which was only relieved by
the friendly stupor which came to his aid, arising from the loss of
blood, he closed his eyes, and muttering a brief sentence, which might
have been a prayer, he resigned himself to his fate.
But he was not thus destined to perish.
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