"Dead!"

"Yes, our poor Christie is gone--but his child is here--the image of
him. Do not forget the mother. Have pity on his child and yours."

"Take it out of my sight!" she screamed. "Away with it, or I shall
murder it, as I have murdered its father. My dear Christie, before all
that live! I have killed him. I shall die for him. I shall go to him."
She raved and tore her hair. Servants rushed in. Rosa was carried to her
bed, screaming and raving, and her black hair all down on both sides, a
piteous sight.

Swoon followed swoon, and that very night brain fever set in with all
its sad accompaniments; a poor bereaved creature, tossing and moaning;
pale, anxious, but resolute faces of the nurse and the kitchen-maid
watching: on one table a pail of ice, and on another the long, thick
raven hair of our poor Simpleton, lying on clean silver paper. Dr.
Philip had cut it all off with his own hand, and he was now folding it
up, and crying over it; for he thought to himself, "Perhaps in a few
days more only this will be left of her on earth."




CHAPTER XV.


Staines fell head-foremost into the sea with a heavy plunge. Being an
excellent swimmer, he struck out the moment he touched the water, and