he Major. They
fired--Lord Tineholme fell immediately--the Major remained on his feet
for a second or two, and then sank down on the ground. I hastened up to
him. "Where are you hurt?"

The Major put his hand to his hip--"I am hit hard, Newland, but not so
hard as he is. Run and see."

I left the Major, and went up to where Lord Tineholme lay, his head
raised on the knee of his second.

"It is all over with him, Mr Newland, the ball has passed through his
brain."

Chapter XXXI

The Major pays the only debt of consequence he ever did pay, and I
find myself a man of property.

I hastened back to the Major, to examine his wound, and, with the
assistance of Timothy, I stripped him sufficiently to ascertain that the
ball had entered his hip, and probing the wound with my finger, it
appeared that it had glanced off in the direction of the intestines; the
suffusion of blood was very trifling, which alarmed me still more.

"Could you bear removal, Major, in the coach?"

"I cannot tell, but we must try; the sooner I am home the better,
Japhet," replied he faintly.

With the assistance of Timothy, I put him into the hackney-coach, and we
drove off, after I had taken off my hat and made my obeisance to Mr
Osborn, an effort of politeness which I certainly should have neglected,
had I not been reminded of it by my principal. We set off, and the
Major bore his journey very well, making no complaint, but, on our
arrival he fainted as we lifted him out. As soon as he was on the bed, I
despatched Timothy for a surgeon. On his arrival he examined the wound,
and shook his head. Taking me into the next room, he declared his
opinion, that the ball had passed into the intestines, which were
severed, and that there was no hope. I sat down and covered up my
face--the tears rolled down and trickled through my fingers--it was the
first heavy blow I had yet received. Without kindred or connections, I
felt that I was about to lose one who was dear to me. To another, not in
my situation, it might have only produced a temporary grief at the near
loss of a friend; but to me, who was almost alone in the world, the loss
was heavy in the extreme. Whom had I to fly to for solace?--there were
Timothy and Fleta--one who performed the duty of a servant to me, and a
child. I felt that they were not sufficient, and my heart was chilled.

The surgeon had, in the meantime, returned to the Major, and dressed the
wound. The Major, w