nearly drowned myself. But he was dead--dead--killed by the fall!"

"Then he is safe at the bottom of the sea?" said Ellis, with hungry
eagerness.

"No, he is not; he lies in my boat," said Owen, shivering a little,
more at the thought of his last glimpse at his father's face than
from cold.

"Oh, husband, change your wet clothes!" pleaded Nest, to whom the
death of the old man was simply a horror with which she had nothing
to do, while her husband's discomfort was a present trouble.

While she helped him to take off the wet garments which he would
never have had energy enough to remove of himself, Ellis was busy
preparing food, and mixing a great tumbler of spirits and hot water.
He stood over the unfortunate young man and compelled him to eat and
drink, and made Nest, too, taste some mouthfuls--all the while
planning in his own mind how best to conceal what had been done, and
who had done it; not altogether without a certain feeling of vulgar
triumph in the reflection that Nest, as she stood there, carelessly
dressed, dishevelled in her grief, was in reality the mistress of
Bodowen, than which Ellis Pritchard had never seen a grander house,
though he believed such might exist.

By dint of a few dexterous questions he found out all he wanted to
know from Owen, as he ate and drank. In fact, it was almost a relief
to Owen to dilute the horror by talking about it. Before the meal
was done, if meal it could be called, Ellis knew all he cared to
know.