sentence was deferred. Once more, the spectators looked at the
prisoner's wife.

She had risen to leave the court. In the event of an adverse
verdict, her husband had asked for a farewell interview; and the
governor of the prison, after consultation with the surgeon, had
granted the request. It was observed, when she retired, that she
held her boy by the hand, and left the girl to follow. A
compassionate lady near her offered to take care of the children
while she was absent. Mrs. Westerfield answered quietly and
coldly: "Thank you--their father wishes to see them."

The prisoner was dying; nobody could look at him and doubt it.

His eyes opened wearily, when his wife and children approached
the bed on which he lay helpless--the wreck of a grandly-made
man. He struggled for breath, but he could still speak a word or
two at a time. "I don't ask you what the verdict is," he said to
his wife; "I see it in your face."

Tearless and silent, she waited by her husband's side. He had
only noticed her for a moment. All his interest seemed to be
centered in his children. The girl stood nearest to him, he
looked at her with a faint smile.

The poor child understood him. Crying piteously, she put her arms
around his neck and kissed him. "Dear papa," she said; "come home
and let me nurse you."

The surgeon, watching the father's face, saw a change in him