and fetched the reeking
bullet forth; and then with the coldest water stanched the flowing of
the life-blood. All this while my darling lay insensible, and white as
death; and needed nothing but her maiden shroud.

But Ruth still sponged the poor side and forehead, and watched the long
eyelashes flat upon the marble cheek; and laid her pure face on the
faint heart, and bade them fetch her Spanish wine. Then she parted the
pearly teeth (feebly clenched on the hovering breath), and poured in
wine from a christening spoon, and raised the graceful neck and breast,
and stroked the delicate throat, and waited; and then poured in a little
more.

Annie all the while looked on with horror and amazement, counting
herself no second-rate nurse, and this as against all theory. But the
quiet lifting of Ruth's hand, and one glance from her dark bright eyes,
told Annie just to stand away, and not intercept the air so. And at the
very moment when all the rest had settled that Ruth was a simple idiot,
but could not harm the dead much, a little flutter in the throat,
followed by a short low sigh, made them pause, and look and hope.

For hours, however, and days, she lay at the very verge of death,
kept alive by nothing but the care, the skill, the tenderness, and the
perpetual watchfulness of Ruth. Luckily Annie was not there very often,
so as to meddle; for kind and clever nurse as she was, she must have
done more harm than good. But my broken rib, which was set by a doctor,
who chanced to be at the wedding, was allotted to Annie's care; and
great inflammation ensuing, it was quite enough to content her. This
doctor had pronounced poor Lorna dead; wherefore Ruth refused most
firmly to have aught to do with him. She took the whole case on herself;
and with God's help she bore it through.

Now whether it were the light and brightness of my Lorna's nature; or
the freedom from anxiety--for she knew not of my hurt;--or, as some
people said, her birthright among wounds and violence, or her manner of
not drinking beer--I leave that doctor to determine who pronounced her
dead. But anyhow, one thing is certain; sure as stars of hope above us;
Lorna recovered, long ere I did.

For the grief was on me still of having lost my love and lover at the
moment she was mine. With the power of fate upon me, and the black
cauldron of the wizard's death boiling in my heated brain, I had
no faith in the tales they told. I believed that Lorna was in the
c