e contrary, she felt it deeply; and more than once it
had so far subdued her pride, as to cause her bitterly to weep. This
shedding of tears, however, was of service to Jack in one sense, for
it had the effect of renewing old impressions, and in a certain way,
of reviving the nature of her sex within her--a nature which had been
sadly weakened by her past life.

But the hour had at length come when this long and painful silence was
to be broken. Jack and Rose were alone with the patient, when the last
again spoke to his wife.

"Molly--poor Molly!" said the dying man, his voice continuing full and
deep to the last, "what a sad time you must have had of it after I did
you that wrong!"

"It is hard upon a woman, Stephen, to turn her out, helpless, on a
cold and selfish world," answered Jack, simply, much too honest to
affect reserve she did not feel.

"It was hard, indeed; may God forgive me for it, as I hope _you_ do,
Molly."

No answer was made to this appeal; and the invalid looked anxiously at
his wife. The last sat at her work, which had now got to be less
awkward to her, with her eyes bent on her needle, and her countenance
rigid, and, so far as the eye could discern, her feelings unmoved.

"Your husband speaks to you, Jack Tier," said Rose, pointedly.

"May _yours_ never have occasion to speak to you, Rose Budd, in the
same way," was the solemn answer. "I do not flatter myself that I ever
was as comely as you, or that yonder poor dying wretch was a Harry
Mulford in his youth; but we were young and happy, and respected once,
and loved each other; yet you see what its all come to!"

Rose was silenced, though she had too much tenderness in behalf of her
own youthful and manly bridegroom to dread a fate similar to that
which had overtaken poor Jack. Spike now seemed disposed to say
something, and she went to the side of his bed, followed by her
companion, who kept a little in the back-ground, as if unwilling to
let the emotion she really felt be seen, and, perhaps, conscious that
her ungainly appearance did not aid her in recovering the lost
affections of her husband.

"I have been a very wicked man, I fear," said Spike, earnestly.

"There are none without sin," answered Rose. "Place your reliance on
the mediation of the Son of God, and sins even far deeper than yours
may be pardoned."

The captain stared at the beautiful speaker, but self-indulgence, the
incessant pursuit of worldly and selfish objects fo