20 DIGGING A GRAVE WITH A WINE-GLASS.
this blessed minute, than wear the Queen’s
-crown—God bless her!—in Westminster
Abbey.” An expression passed over the
surgeon’s face that said, plainly enough —

‘What fools women are!” but still his
eyes were fixed on poor N elly.

There was a slight upheaving of the sheet
that the nurse had thrown over the child,
and a filmy gray mistiness gradually over-
spreading the ghastly pallor of her poor
pinched face. There was a movement of
the lips —an effort, it seemed to Peggy, to
speak. )

The impulsive woman waa on her knees
beside the bed. “Oh, doctor, dear, sure it
can’t be THAT come for the poor young thing
already? Oh, doctor, say it isn’t!—and she
to go without the priest to clear her way ;
and her misfortunate mother the cause! ”’

‘¢ She is, indeed, gone,” said the doctor, as
he turned away. “Saved most likely, from

a life of misery and shame.”