Thrasher sat with his hands clasped over one knee, looking thoughtfully on the ground as she spoke. Katharine had nestled close to his side, and was looking wistfully into his face.

"There isn't any trouble now, Nelson. Mother may be angry for awhile, but it won't be forever."

"I was thinking," said Thrasher, with his eyes resolutely fixed on the ground, "I was thinking that, as it had gone so far, we had better put off telling about it till after my next trip."

Katharine turned white, and suddenly shrank away from him. He did not seem to notice it, but went on in the same even voice.

"It will not be long—not more than two or three months at the most."

Katharine held her breath and listened, but sobs were gathering thick and heavy in her bosom.

"Three months!—three months! Oh, Nelson!" and now the sobs broke forth with painful violence.

"It may be less than that—I will get the shortest voyage that can be found. But for the shipwreck this might not have been so necessary; as it is, one must have a little money to go to housekeeping with. You wouldn't have me ask my father for that?"

"No, no. Besides, what would mother do without me just now—with this dreadful news to bear up against?" cried Katharine, hushing her sobs.

"I was sure you would see the whole thing in this sensible way, dear."

Katharine wiped her eyes and made a miserable effort to smile.

"Yes, I suppose it is best. But what if something happens to keep you away longer?—I should die! I should die!"

"But nothing can happen. If it should—that is, if I do not come back in three months at the furthest—take your certificate, go up to my mother, show it to her, and tell the old folks to take care of you for my sake; for after that, you may consider yourself a widow!"

"A widow?"

"Yes, beyond a doubt; for if I do not come back in three months, be sure that nothing but death keeps me!"

"Don't! don't!" cried the poor wife, lifting her hands as if to ward off a blow.

"Well, well; there's nothing so dreadful about all this. One would think, by that face, you saw me in the water now, with a stone at my feet."

Again Katharine held up her hands and shut her eyes. The picture was too dreadful.

Spite of himself, Thrasher was touched by this evidence of affection; he changed his position, and stole his arm around her waist.

"There, now, we have settled all this terrible business, and can talk of brighter things," he said, caressingly. "Have you seen much of the old people since I went away?"

"I had no heart to go there often; but sometimes I saw your father at the gate. He always stopped if I was there when he rode by; and when mother was sick, Mrs. Thrasher always came."

"Dear old lady!" said Thrasher, with emotion. "When was she ever away when help could be given? Under all circumstances she will be good to you, wife or widow."

"Don't use that word widow; it makes me cold."

"Yet it is sometimes a pleasant word," said Thrasher, forgetting her presence in thoughts of another.

"A pleasant word, Nelson?"

"Pleasant!-did I say so? How strange that one's tongue will make such blunders." Katharine was thoughtful for a moment. Something in her husband's manner brought back the feelings she had experienced at Mrs. Mason's house the night before. Vague spasms of jealousy, that culminated in a sharp pang when she remembered that the beautiful woman who had almost taunted her, was a widow now.

"Nelson," she said, awaking from her grief, for there was something of indignation mingled with it now, "last night I was at Mrs. Mason's."

"Indeed? Have you visited her often?"

"Only when I went to get news of the ship; for I don't much like her."

"Indeed?"

"No; she hurts one's feelings without meaning it, I dare say. Her haughtiness keeps every one at a distance."

Thrasher turned his face away, to conceal the proud smile that broke over it. He longed to defend the haughtiness of which Katharine complained—to say that it was the birthright of Ellen's great superiority over all other women. But he checked the impulse and only answered:

"Perhaps it is so. I have seen very little of her since she married that—that—I mean since she married Captain Mason."

"She told me something last night that surprised me."

"What was it?"

"She said that you had loved her before she accepted Captain Mason, and that she refused you."

"Ah, she told you that; and did her ladyship tell you why she took Mason instead of me?"

"Because you was a third or second mate, I forget which, and he was a captain; that was the reason she gave—but you speak as if it were true." "Well, when I say that I had never been to sea in my life when John Mason married Ellen Palmer, you'll probably believe this nonsense."

"Then it was not true!" cried Katharine, smiling happily the first time that day.

"When women boast of their conquests, they seldom are true, Kate."

"But how unfeeling to say all this to me, your wife!"

"She didn't know that; with a secret like ours, one is always getting into trouble, Kate; as for this haughty woman, I would not go near her again—she'll find you out in no time."

Katharine smiled with a little bitterness.

"I suppose she would, for when the heart is full, it is hard to look calm. Last night I longed to tell the woman to her face, that I had a right to inquire after you—just as good a right as she had to be taking on about her husband."

"But you did not?"

"Certainly not. I only sat and cried. The little girl seemed to grudge me that comfort, for she said I had no husband nor father off to sea, and she couldn't tell what I wanted to cry for like her own mother."

"The little fool!" sneered Thrasher. "So they were having a general season of mourning, because Mason did not present himself?"

"Not exactly that," said Katharine; "still, I was sorry for Mrs. Mason and the little girl, for they felt bad enough; and now, when you are safe—when I ought to be so happy—it is a shame to talk over their faults. I dare say she didn't mean any thing. Such women sometimes fancy that men want to offer themselves who never had the idea. Besides, I told Mrs. Mason to her face that I didn't believe a word of it." Thrasher laughed.

"And so you managed to get up a little sparring-match between you, and all upon my account?"

"Not quite that," answered Katharine, laughing also. "But I was so disappointed that every thing went wrong. Besides, it's no use denying it, Mrs. Mason made me angry. The idea of a married woman speaking of her offers! But then, you never did make her an offer—and I knew it."

"Well, any way, you have a pretty sure safeguard that I never shall make her one."

Katharine's face brightened beautifully. She looked toward him with a long, steady glance of affection. Tears trembled on her long lashes, and shone like dew where they had fallen on the damask of her cheek. But the smile upon her mouth, and the tenderness in her eyes, were enough to excuse any man for remembering, just then, that she was his own wife.

Thrasher drew her toward him, and kissed her with hearty warmth for the first time since his return home.

I am afraid the dear old people standing by the window saw it, for they looked at each other slyly and turned away.