of a mile off, and she was finally
dispatched there for assistance.

Few people know the ready humanity which exists among the lower
orders: the man must have run all the way to Oxford, for he returned
in little more than half an hour, before the surgeon could dress and
mount his horse.

However, Chesterton was evidently still living; and when the surgeon
did arrive he gave some hopes of his recovery. The weight of the blow
had been in some degree broken by the gun which poor Harry had raised
in his hand, and this only could have saved the skull from fracture.

Of course we had soon plenty of volunteers who were ready to be useful
in any way; and when at last the police had made their appearance, and
removed both the living and the dead, and Chesterton had been laid in
Brown's room, and the surgeon, having applied the usual remedies, had
composedly accepted Mrs Nutt's offer to make up a bed for him, and
betaken himself thereto, as if such events were to him matters of
everyday occurrence--I suppose they were--it struck me, for the first
time, that there was a remarkable contrast between Brown's hurried
manner and disturbed countenance now, compared with his perfect
coolness and self-possession while the danger seemed most imminent,
which even Chesterton's dangerous state did not sufficiently account
for.

"How lucky it was, Brown," said I, "my gun had a load of duck-shot in
it! Don't you remember I was going to have fired it off? And that you
should have laid your hand upon it in the kitchen! I looked for it as
we came by, but could not see it."

"I'll tell you what, Hawthorne: I almost wish I had not seen it: I
should not have had a man's life to answer for."

"Why, Brown," said I with some surprise, "surely you can have no
scruple about that poor wretch's death? Why, he has all but murdered
poor Harry--if, indeed, he ever gets over it."

"Very true, very true," replied Brown, looking at the bed where
Chesterton was lying in utter unconsciousness; "he seems to sleep very
quietly now. I don't think he knew any one just now when he opened his
eyes: did you see the blow, Hawthorne?"

"Yes," said I; "the lock of the gun is broken, and I fancy that saved
him; but he would have had little chance from a second: that shot came
just in time."

"I covered the man from the moment he first raised the bar: your head
was in a line with him, or I should have fired sooner. I hardly
thought you would have escaped some part