lifted it but a short time before. Then he turned back to her,
and found her on her feet, upheld by her two friends. She had
understood his action, and without a groan had accepted her fate.
Indeed, she seemed incapable of any further speech or action. She
was staring down at her husband's body, which she, for the first
time, seemed fully to see. Was her look one of grief or of
resentment for the part he had played so unintentionally in her
child's death? It was hard to tell; and when, with slowly rising
finger, she pointed to the pistol so tightly clutched in the
other outstretched hand, no one there--and by this time the room
was full--could foretell what her words would be when her tongue
regained its usage and she could speak.

What she did say was this:

"Is there a bullet gone? Did he fire off that pistol?" A question
so manifestly one of delirium that no one answered it, which
seemed to surprise her, though she said nothing till her glance
had passed all around the walls of the room to where a window
stood open to the night,--its lower sash being entirely raised.
"There! look there!" she cried, with a commanding accent, and,
throwing up her hands, sank a dead weight into the arms of those
supporting her.

No one understood; but naturally more than one rushed to the
window. An open space was before them. Here lay the fields not
yet parcelled out into lots and built upon; but it was not upon
these they looked, but upon the strong trellis which they found
there, which, if it supported no vine, formed a veritable ladder
between this window and the ground.