"
Garth went back once more to the smithy, and, writhing under the
torture of suspense, he worked until the very clothes he wore were
moist to the surface. Then he went into the house again.
"How my brain throbs!" he said; "surely you said the throbbing brain
was a sign, mother; and my brain _does_ throb."
"Tut, tut! it's nobbut some maggot thou's gitten intil it."
"My pulse, too, it gallops, mother. You said the galloping pulse was a
sign. Don't say you did not. I'm sure of it, I'm sure of it; and _my_
pulse gallops. I could bear the parched mouth and the throbbing brain
if this pulse did not run so fast."
"Get away wi' thee, thou dummel-heed. What fagot has got hold on thy
fancy now?"
There was only the swollen gland wanted to make the dread symptoms
complete.
Garth went back to the anvil once more. His eyes rolled in his head.
They grew as red as the iron that he was welding. He swore at the boy
who helped him, and struck him fiercely. He shouted frantically, and
flung away the hammer at every third blow.
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