“And the mother,” sighed Elinor.

“Well if He who sends is pleased to take away, He will find me perfectly resigned to His will.  You need not weep, madam.  If my conduct appears unnatural, let me tell you that I consider those human beings alone fortunate who perish in their infancy.  They are in no fear of coming to the gallows.  They are saved from the threatened torments of hell!”

Elinor shrank from the wild flash of his keen dark eyes, and drew back with an involuntary shudder.  “Happy had it been for me if I had died an infant on my mother’s breast.”

“Aye, if you had never seen the light.  You were born to be the bane of my house.  But since you have confided to me this precious secret, let me ask you what you think will be the probable expense of your confinement?”

“I really cannot tell.  I must have a doctor—­a nurse—­and some few necessaries for the poor babe.  I think, with great economy, ten pounds would be enough.”

“Ten pounds!”

“It may cost more, certainly not less.”

“You will never get that sum from me.”

“But, Marcus, what am I to do?”

“The best way you can.”

“You would not have your wife solicit charity?”

“An excellent thought.  Ha! ha! you would make a first-rate beggar, with that pale sad face of yours.  But, no, madam, you shall not beg.  Poor as I am, I will find means to support both you and the child.  But, mark me—­it must not resemble Algernon.”

“How is that possible?  I have not seen Algernon for eighteen years.”

“But he is ever in your thoughts.  Let me not trace this adultery of the heart in the features of my child.”

“But you are like Algernon.  Not a striking likeness, but still you might be known for brothers.”

“So, you are trying to find excuses in case of the worst.  But, I again repeat to you, that I will not own the boy if he is like Algernon.”

This whim of the miser’s was a new cause of terror to Elinor; from that moment an indescribable dread lest the child should be like Algernon took possession of her breast.  She perceived that her husband already calculated with selfish horror the expense of the unborn infant’s food and raiment; and she began to entertain some not unreasonable fears lest the young child, if it should survive its birth, would be starved to death, as Mark barely supplied his household with the common necessaries of life; and, though Elinor bore the system of starvation with the indifference which springs from a long and hopeless continuation of suffering, the parish girl was loud in her complaints, and she was constantly annoyed with her discontented murmurings, without having it in her power to silence them in the only effective way.

The Squire told Ruth, that she consumed more food at one meal than would support him and her mistress for a week; and he thought that what was enough for them might satisfy a cormorant like her.  But the poor girl could not measure the cravings of her healthy appetite by the scanty wants of a heart-broken invalid and a miser.  Her hunger remained unappeased, and she continued to complain.