"Now, Nest, on with your cloak and haps. Pack up what needs to go
with you, for both you and your husband must be half way to Liverpool
by to-morrow's morn. I'll take you past Rhyl Sands in my fishing-
boat, with yours in tow; and, once over the dangerous part, I'll
return with my cargo of fish, and learn how much stir there is at
Bodowen. Once safe hidden in Liverpool, no one will know where you
are, and you may stay quiet till your time comes for returning."

"I will never come home again," said Owen, doggedly. "The place is
accursed!"

"Hoot! be guided by me, man. Why, it was but an accident, after all!
And we'll land at the Holy Island, at the Point of Llyn; there is an
old cousin of mine, the parson, there--for the Pritchards have known
better days, Squire--and we'll bury him there. It was but an
accident, man. Hold up your head! You and Nest will come home yet
and fill Bodowen with children, and I'll live to see it."

"Never!" said Owen. "I am the last male of my race, and the son has
murdered his father!"

Nest came in laden and cloaked. Ellis was for hurrying them off.
The fire was extinguished, the door was locked.

"Here, Nest, my darling, let me take your bundle while I guide you
down the steps." But her husband bent his head, and spoke never a
word. Nest gave her father the bundle (already loaded with such
things as he himself had seen fit to take), but clasped another
softly and tightly.