The sheriff moved sternly away, and, with the rest of the party, approached the spot where Mr. William Thornton lay. The wounded man was lying on his side as he had slipped down, rather than fallen; and, when his face was visible, it was clear that, though badly hurt, he was neither dead nor in a dying condition. He said not a word to any one, though he must have known many of those present; but he gazed silently in our faces, with a clear, undimmed eye, as I have often seen a wounded bird. The first shot which had been fired at him seemed to have grazed his shoulder; but the second had inflicted a much more serious wound in his hip, and he was bleeding profusely. "We had better carry you to the cabin, and try to staunch the blood," said the sheriff, bending down over him; "we can remove you to your own house afterwards." The old man made no answer; and some of the party took him up as gently as they could, and carried him between them to the hut, at the door of which still stood Bessy, with a very pale face. As they went, they could not help passing the body of Robert Thornton, and inadvertently took that side towards which the old man's eyes were turned; but he gazed composedly at the corpse, without a word or an inquiry; and, indeed, I could not perceive the slightest change of countenance. If human attachments had been lost either in the selfishness of pain or the apathy of age, human resentments were not extinguished. They laid him on the table, and I whispered a few words to Bessy, who had shown so much skill in stopping the bleeding of my arm. She gave a slight shudder, but answered at once. "Certainly, Richard--I forgot--I did not think of it; but I have been terrified and shocked. I will try directly;" and approaching the table, she said, "Let me try, gentlemen; I have had to do this before. Mr. Thornton, I think I can soon staunch the blood."' The old man suddenly raised himself with a start upon his elbow, exclaiming, with the look of a demon,-- "Get hence, girl! You have been the ruin of me and mine. We have never seen you, spoken to you, thought of you, I do believe, without some evil happening to us. Touch me not! Your very name has been a plague to us." "And well it might, Billy Thornton," said a bluff old gentleman, who had come with the sheriff, "for you would never let any who bore it alone. You began all the mischief, and your son continued it. Who egged on the quarrel between poor Davenport, her father, and Richard Conway, when Conway wanted no quarrel at all? Who stopped the letter of explanation, and got Davenport killed, and was, more or less, the cause of Conway being drowned?"