s. 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.

At this period Mark Hurdlestone was attacked, for the first time in his
life, with a dangerous illness. Elinor nursed him with the greatest
care, and prescribed for him as well as she could; for he would not
suffer a doctor to enter the house. But finding that the disorder did
not yield to her remedies, but rather that he grew daily worse, she
privately sent for the doctor. When he arrived, Mr. Hurdlestone ordered
him out of his room, and nearly exhausted what little strength he still
possessed, in accusing Elinor of entering into a conspiracy with Mr.
Moore to kill him, and, as the doctor happened to be a widower, to marry
him after his death, and share the sp