9° 



FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 



eyes of women weeping, other lips of wives and daughters calling on dear 

 names. 



The night came on with a gale, and the last that Janet saw or heard was 

 that the vessel supposed to be the Snow-Bird had been blown off and was 

 drifting out of sight. 



"She's doomed!" an old fisherman said, turning away from the darkening 

 view. "She'll go down ! there's no help for it." 



Janet heard ; she looked about her with a sickly, piteous smile, as though 

 asking for help for her own misery ; then she fell down in a lifeless heap 

 on the wet stones. 



Kindly hands lifted her up and strong arms bore her home. On her bed 

 she lay for long hours, her children by her side. She lay in a sort of stupor 

 — she saw the blaze of the fire, she heard voices and footsteps coming and 

 going, through the night. But her mind was torpid — she only realized one 

 fear, that David was lost, and she — 



"He called me a widow," she rambled on feebly. "He said I was a 

 ■widow. What is a widow .'' Is it a woman whose heart is broken? Then 

 I am one ! Oh ! " 



She put her hand to her brow, and then a merciful sleep came over her, 

 and she dreamed a sweet dream — that David had returned. 



She awoke ! The storm had cleared away and the morning sun was steal- 

 ing into the bed-room window. Some one said the Snow-Bird had just 



