"wounded prisoners. I wish I could hope, Miss Oliver--it would help, I suppose. But hope seems dead in me. I can't hope without some reason for it--and there is no reason." When Miss Oliver had gone to her own room and Rilla was lying on her bed in the moonlight, praying desperately for a little strength, Susan stepped in like a gaunt shadow and sat down beside her. "Rilla, dear, do not you worry. Little Jem is not dead." "Oh, how can you believe"