Dearest, I would give my life for yours at any time," he responded.

The words and the look that accompanied them were a revelation to
Lucilla. The look of a moment before had surprised her, and raised a
question in her mind as to just what she was to him; but there was no
mistaking this. He loved her; loved her well enough to die in her
stead.

But the men were at hand with the cot, and under the captain's
direction the wounded man was lifted carefully and tenderly, laid upon
it, and carried to the house, the captain on his horse, and Lucilla on
her pony, following closely.

In the meantime Violet and Christine had made ready a bed in the room
occupied by Captain Raymond at the time of his injury from being
thrown by Thunderer, and there they laid Chester, just as Drs. Arthur
Conly and Harold Travilla arrived, having come with all possible haste
at the summons sent by the captain.

Violet, Lucilla, and Grace, seated on the veranda, anxiously awaited
the doctors' verdict.

It was Harold who brought it at length.

"The wound is a serious one," he said in reply to their looks of
earnest inquiry; "but we have succeeded in removing the ball, and do
not by any means despair of his life."

"Oh, I hope he will recover," sobbed Lucilla; "for if he does not, I
shall always feel that he has given his life for mine."

"But it was through no fault of yours, Lu; you were not in the least
to blame," said Harold soothingly. "And you can pray for his recovery;
we all will. But don't worry and fret; for that will only make you
unhappy and perhaps ill, and do him no good."

"That is good advice, Harold," said her father, who had joined them
just in time to hear it; "worrying about what may happen only unfits
us for present duty, and makes us less able to meet the trouble when
it comes."

"That scoundrel is dead?" Harold said half inquiringly.

"Yes; Chester's shot, fired simultaneously with his, was fatal. He
dropped, and, I think, died almost instantly. Poor wretch! the world
is well rid of him; but what has become of his soul?"

"Oh, I don't believe Chester meant to kill him outright!" exclaimed
Lucilla; "I believe he was only thinking of saving my life."

"And to kill the wretch who was trying to kill you seemed to be the
only way of doing that," said Harold. "But I must go," he added,
rising. "We think we must have a professional nurse for Chester. I
happen to know of one who has just finished an engagement, and I am