"No one outright, I'm tould, miss,—but——"
"Then who is wounded?"
"The bullet went right through them, miss."
"Through both! But that is impossible. I must beg you again to collect yourself, Timothy; all this is most important, and naturally Miss Blake—that is, we—are much upset about it. Through whom did the bullet go?"
"The ould squire an' his nephew, miss."
"Through their bodies?" cries Miss Penelope, throwing up hope and both her hands at the same time.
"No, ma'am, jist between them, as it might be between you an' Miss Priscilla now." He illustrates the real truth as he says this.
"Bless me, man! sure they weren't touched at all so," says Miss Penelope.
"No more they were, miss. Sorra a bit, praise be——"
"Then why did you say they were killed?" says Terence, indignantly, who has been stricken dumb by the appalling fate of his dear Desmond.