d.

"No; certainly not," said Mr. Pole, still keeping his back to her.

Struck with a sudden anticipating fear of having to go through this scene
on the morrow, he continued: "No misunderstands, mind! Wilfrid's done
with."

There was a silence. He trusted she might be gone. Turning round, he
faced her; the light of the candle throwing her pale visage into ghostly
relief.

"Where is sleep for you if you part us?"

Mr. Pole flung up his arms. "I insist upon your going to bed. Why
shouldn't I sleep? Child's folly!"

Though he spoke so, his brain was in strings to his timorous ticking
nerves; and he thought that it would be well to propitiate her and get
her to utter some words that would not haunt his pillow.

"My dear girl! it's not my doing. I like you. I wish you well and happy.
Very fond of you;--blame circumstances, not me." Then he murmured: "Are
black spots on the eyelids a bad sign? I see big flakes of soot falling
in a dark room."

Emilia's mated look fleeted. "You come between us, sir, because I have no
money?"

"I tell you it's the boy's only chance to make his hit now." Mr. Pole
stamped his foot angrily.

"And you make my Cornelia marry, though she loves another, as Wilfrid
loves me, and if they do not obey you they are to be beggars! Is it you
who can pray? Can you ever have good dreams? I saved my father from the
sin, by leaving him. He wished to sell me. But my poor father had no
money at all, and I can pardon him. Money was a bright thing to him: like
other things to us. Mr. Pole! What will any one say for you!"

The unhappy merchant had made vehement efforts to perplex his hearing,
that her words might be empty and not future dragons round his couch. He
was looking forward to a night of sleep as a cure for the evil sensations
besetting him--his only chance. The chance was going; and with the
knowledge that it was unjustly torn from him--this one gleam of clear
reason in his brain undimmed by the irritable storm which plucked him
down--he cried out, to clear himself:--

"They are beggars, both, and all, if they don't marry before two months
are out. I'm a beggar then. I'm ruined. I shan't have a penny. I'm in a
workhouse. They are in good homes. They are safe, and thank their old
father. Now, then; now. Shall I sleep?"

Emilia caught his staggering arm. The glazed light of his eyes went out.
He sank into a chair; white as if life had issued with the secret of his
life. Wonderful varying exp