And then the suddenness of it all--less than an hour had passed since this tall, robust young fellow stood before him on the stairs, hanging upon every word that fell from Kate's lips--and here he lay weltering in his own blood.
Suddenly his father's hopeful word to the doctor sounded in his ears.
Suppose, after all, Willits SHOULD get well! Then Kate would understand and forgive him! As this thought developed in his mind his spirits rose.

He scanned the sufferer the more intently, straining his neck, persuading himself that a slight twitching had crossed the dying man's face.

Almost instantaneously the doctor rose to his feet.
"Quick, Harry!--hand me that brandy! It's just as I hoped--the ball has ploughed outside the skull--the brain is untouched.

It was the shock that stunned him.

Leave the room everybody--you too, colonel--he'll come to in a minute and must not be excited." Harry sprang from his chair, a great surge of thankfulness rising in his heart, caught up the decanter, filled a glass and pressed it to the sufferer's lips.