y drawer and chest that had not
been sold by public auction or private contract. Not a corner of the
chamber was left unexplored--not a closet or shelf escaped her strict
examination, until, giving up the search as perfectly hopeless, she
resumed her station at his bed-side, to watch through the long winter
night--without a fire, and by the wan gleam that a miserable rush-light
shed through the spacious and lofty room--the restless slumbers of the
miser. She was ill, out of spirits, fatigued with her fruitless
exertion, and deeply disappointed at her want of success.

The solitary light threw a ghastly livid hue on the strongly-marked
features of the sleeper, rendered sharp and haggard by disease and his
penurious habits; she could just distinguish through the gloom the
spectre-like form of the invalid, and the long bony attenuated hands
which grasped, from time to time, the curtains and bedclothes, as he
tossed from side to side in his feverish unrest. Elinor continued to
watch the dark and perturbed countenance of the sleeper, until he became
an object of fear, and she fancied that it was some demon who had for a
time usurped the human shape, and not the brother of Algernon--the man
whom she had voluntarily attended to the altar, and in the presence of
Almighty God had sworn to love, honor, and obey, and to cherish in
sickness and in health.

A crushing sense of all the deception that had been practiced upon her,
of her past wrongs and present misery, made her heart die within her,
and her whole soul overflow with bitterness. She wrung her hands, and
smote her breast in an agony of despair; but in that dark hour no tear
relieved her burning brain, or moistened her eyes. She had once been
under the dominion of insanity; she felt that her reason in that moment
hung upon a thread; that, if she pursued much longer her present
thoughts, they would drive her mad; that, if she continued to gaze much
longer on the face of her husband, she would be tempted to plunge a
knife, which lay on the table near her, into his breast. With a
desperate effort she drew her eyes from the sleeper, and turned from the
bed. Her gaze fell upon a large full-length picture in oils, which hung
opposite. It was the portrait of one of Mark's ancestors, a young man
who had fallen in his first battle, on the memorable field of Flodden.
It bore a strong resemblance to Algernon, and Elinor prized it on that
account, and would sit for hours with her hea