er door. One blow
would beat it in. "You might do murder before you know it," Tackleton
had said. How could it be murder, if he gave the villain time to grapple
with him hand to hand? He was the younger man.

It was an ill-timed thought, bad for the dark mood of his mind. It was
an angry thought, goading him to some avenging act, that should change
the cheerful house into a haunted place which lonely travellers would
dread to pass by night; and where the timid would see shadows struggling
in the ruined windows when the moon was dim, and hear wild noises in the
stormy weather.

He was the younger man! Yes, yes; some lover who had won the heart that
_he_ had never touched. Some lover of her early choice, of whom she had
thought and dreamed, for whom she had pined and pined, when he had
fancied her so happy by his side. Oh, agony to think of it!

She had been above-stairs with the Baby; getting it to bed. As he sat
brooding on the hearth, she came close beside him, without his
knowledge--in the turning of the rack of his great misery, he lost all
other sounds--and put her little stool at his feet. He only knew it when
he felt her hand upon his own, and saw her looking up into his face.

With wonder? No. It was his first impression, and he was fain to look at
her again, to set it right. No, not with wonder. With an eager and
inquiring look; but not with wonder. At first it was alarmed and
serious; then, it changed into a strange, wild, dreadful smile of
recognition of his thoughts; then, there was nothing but her clasped
hands on her brow, and her bent head, and falling hair.

Though the power of Omnipotence had been his to wield at that moment, he
had too much of its diviner property of Mercy in his breast, to have
turned one feather's weight of it against her. But he could not bear to
see her crouching down upon the little seat where he had often looked on
her, with love and pride, so innocent and gay; and, when she rose and
left him, sobbing as she went, he felt it a relief to have the vacant
place beside him rather than her so long-cherished presence. This in
itself was anguish keener than all, reminding him how desolate he was
become, and how the great bond of his life was rent asunder.

[Illustration: _When suddenly, the struggling fire illuminated the whole
chimney with a glow of light; and the Cricket on the Hearth began to
Chirp!_]

The more he felt this, and the more he knew he could have better borne
to s