l to him. Indeed, I fear that he is beyond human help," said
Henrietta, as she wiped the gushing stream from the lips of the dying
man.

"Beyond human help! Eh! what? Nace! No! no! no! no! It can't be!" said
the old man, kneeling down, and bending over him in helpless trouble.

"Attend Dr. Grimshaw, while I hurry out and see what can be done,
Mary," said Mrs. Waugh, resigning her charge, and then hastening from
the room. She soon returned, bringing with her such remedies as her
limited knowledge suggested. And she and Mary L'Oiseau applied them; but
in vain! Every effort for his relief seemed but to hasten his death. The
hemorrhage was subsiding; so also was his breath. "It is too late; he is
dying!" said Henrietta, solemnly.

"Dying! No, no, Nace! Nace! speak to me! Nace! you're not dying! I've
lost more blood than that in my time! Nace! Nace! speak to your
old--speak, Nace!" cried the commodore, stooping down and raising the
sufferer in his arms, and gazing, half wildly, half stupidly, at the
congealing face.

He continued thus for some moments, until Mrs. Waugh, putting her hand
upon his shoulder, said gravely and kindly:

"Lay him down, Commodore Waugh; he is gone."

"Gone! gone!" echoed the old man, in his imbecile distraction, and
dropped his gray head upon the corpse, and groaned aloud.

Mrs. Waugh came and laid her hand affectionately on his shoulder. He
looked up in such hopeless, helpless trouble, and cried out:

"Oh, Henrietta! he was my son--my only, only son! My poor, unowned boy!
Oh, Henrietta! is he dead? Are you sure? Is he quite gone?"

"He is gone, Commodore Waugh; lay him down; come away to your room,"
said Henrietta, gently taking his hand.

Jacquelina, white with horror, was kneeling with clasped hands and
dilated eyes, gazing at the ruin. The old man's glance fell upon her
there, and his passion changed from grief to fury. Fiercely he broke
forth:

"It was you! You are the murderess--you! Heaven's vengeance light upon
you!"

"Oh, I never meant it! I never meant it! I am very wretched! I wish I'd
never been born!" cried Jacquelina, wringing her pale fingers.

"Out of my sight, you curse! Out of my sight--and may Heaven's wrath
pursue you!" thundered the commodore, shaking with grief and rage.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE BODY ON THE BEACH.

In the meanwhile, where was he whose headlong passions had precipitated
this catastrophe? where was Thurston? After having parted with his
co