words, must lie.

"The rest thou knowest. Coming up close behind, I fired my pistol.
He dropped thee and fell himself, and I feared that he was dead.
Brother, it is something fearful to have killed a man, though it
was to save life. Wilt thou not go to him and see if he yet lives?
We ought to show charity even to our foes."

Cuthbert was willing enough to do this since he had heard his
sister's story, which had not taken many minutes in the telling. He
went across to the spot where Long Robin lay, and turned him gently
over.

Although the sight of death was by no means familiar to Cuthbert,
it took only one glance to show him that this man was dying or
dead. His face was ghastly and drawn, and his limbs were already
growing rigid and motionless. The heavy charge of the pistol had
done its work surely and fully: the bullet had passed through the
spine, and had entered the vital organs. There was little effusion
of blood, but death was delayed only a few minutes. Even as
Cuthbert looked at him, the man gave a deep groan. His eyelids
flickered a few moments, and then his jaw dropped, a quiver passed
through his frame, which then became absolutely still.

Cuthbert shook his head.

"He is dead!" cried Petronella, in a voice of compunction and
awe--"he is dead; and I have killed him!"

She put her hands before her eyes and shivered. It was something of