“What, not enough?” growled forth the miser.  “By heavens! thou hast a human conscience.  But wait patiently, and I will show you more—­aye, more—­my brother’s portion, and my own.  Ha, ha!  I tricked him there.  The old man’s heart failed him at the last.  He was afraid of you.  Yes, yes, he was afraid of the devil!  It was I formed the plan.  It was I guided the dead hand.  Shall I burn for that?”

Then, as if suddenly struck with a violent pain, he shrieked out, “Ah, ah! my brain is cloven with a bolt of fire.  I cannot bear this!  Algernon mocks my agonies—­laughs at my cries—­and tells me that he has a fair wife and plenty of gold, in spite of my malice.  How did he get it?  Did he rob me?”

Elinor shrunk back aghast from this wild burst of delirium; and the miser, rising from his knees, began re-ascending the stairs.  This task he performed with difficulty, and often reeled forward with extreme pain and weakness.  After traversing several empty chambers, he entered what had once been the state apartment, and stooping down, he drew from beneath the faded furniture of the bed a strong mahogany brass-bound chest, which he cautiously opened, and displayed to his wondering companion a richer store of wealth than that on which she had so lately gazed.

“How! not satisfied yet!” he cried in the same harsh tones, “then may I perish to all eternity if I give you one fraction more.”

As he was about to close the chest, Elinor, who knew that without a necessary supply of money both her unborn infant and its avaricious father would perish for want, slid her hand into the box, and dextrously abstracted some of the broad gold pieces it contained.  The coins, in coming in contact with each other, emitted a slight ringing sound, which arrested, trifling as it was, the ear of the sleeper.

“What! fingering the gold already?” he exclaimed, hastily slapping down the lid of the strong box.  “Could you not wait till I am dead?”

Then staggering back to his apartment, he was soon awake, and raving under a fresh paroxysm of the fever.  In his delirium he fancied himself confined to the dreary gulf of eternal woe, and from this place of torment he imagined that his brother could alone release him, and he proffered to him, while under the influence of that strong agony, all his hidden treasures if he would but intercede with Christ to save his soul.

These visions of his diseased brain were so frequent and appalling, and the near approach of death so dreadful to the guilty and despairing wretch, that they produced at last a strong desire to see his brother, that he might ask his forgiveness, and make some restitution of his property to him before he died.

“Elinor,” he said, “I must see Algernon.  I cannot die until I have seen him.  But mark me, Elinor, you must not be present at our conference.  You must not see him.”

With quivering lips, and a face paler than usual, his wife promised obedience, and Grenard Pike was despatched to Norgood Hall to make known to Algernon Hurdlestone his dying brother’s request, and to call in, once more, the aid of the village doctor.