Not meeting with him, however, and concluding he was in the kitchen, he descended thither, and found him in such a pitiable plight, that his wrath was instantly changed to compassion.
Stretched upon the hearth before a blazing sea-coal fire, which seemed large enough to roast him, with his head resting upon the lap of Patience, the pretty kitchen-maid, and his left hand upon his heart, the porter loudly complained of a fixed and burning pain in that region; while his mother, who was kneeling beside him, having just poured a basin of scalding posset-drink down his throat, entreated him to let her examine his side to see whether he had any pestilential mark upon it, but he vehemently resisted her efforts.
"Do you feel any swelling, myn lief zoon ?" asked old Josyna, trying to remove his hand.
"Swelling!" ejaculated Blaize,--"there's a tumour as big as an egg." "Is id possible ?" exclaimed Josyna, in great alarm.

"Do let me look ad id." "No, no, leave me alone," rejoined Blaize.

"Don't disturb me further.
You will catch the distemper if you touch the sore." "Dat wond hinder me from drying to zaave you," replied his mother, affectionately.

"I must see vad is de madder vid you, or I cannod cure you." "I am past your doctoring, mother," groaned Blaize.

"Leave me alone, I say.