fault;" and he laid a hand on Owen's shoulder.

"You're wet," said he, suddenly. "Where have you been? Nest, your
husband is dripping, drookit wet. That's what makes him look so blue
and wan."

Nest softly laid her baby in its cradle; she was half stupefied with
crying, and had not understood to what Owen alluded, when he spoke of
his doom being fulfilled, if indeed she had heard the words.

Her touch thawed Owen's miserable heart.

"Oh, Nest!" said he, clasping her in his arms; "do you love me still-
-can you love me, my own darling?"

"Why not?" asked she, her eyes filling with tears. "I only love you
more than ever, for you were my poor baby's father!"

"But, Nest--Oh, tell her, Ellis! YOU know."

"No need, no need!" said Ellis. "She's had enough to think on.
Bustle, my girl, and get out my Sunday clothes."

"I don't understand," said Nest, putting her hand up to her head.
"What is to tell? and why are you so wet? God help me for a poor
crazed thing, for I cannot guess at the meaning of your words and
your strange looks! I only know my baby is dead!" and she burst into
tears.

"Come, Nest! go and fetch him a change, quick!" and as she meekly