"Then you were thinking of me."
"I prayed for you."
Such news seemed but ill-gotten gains, to come before I had gathered
courage to inquire after Charlotte Oliver. "Wh'--where is--where are
the others?"
"They're all about the house, tending the wounded; Mrs. Sessions is with
the Squire, of course,--dear, brave old gentleman! we thought he was
killed, but Charlotte found the ball had glanced."
I asked if it was Oliver who shot him, and she nodded. "It was down at
the front door; the Squire said he'd shoot him if he shot Charlotte, and
Charlotte declared she'd shoot him if he shot the Squire, and all at
once he shot at her and struck him."
"Who was it that screamed; was it she?"