without bother! Is your
candle alight, my dear?"

Emilia now thought that he was practising evasion.

"I will light it," she said.

Mr. Pole gave a wearied sigh. His head being still turned to the glass,
he listened with a shrouded face for her movements: saying, "Good night;
good night; I'll light my own. There's a dear!"

A shouting was in his ears, which seemed to syllable distinctly: "If she
goes at once, I'm safe."

The sight of pain at all was intolerable to him; but he had a prophetic
physical warning now that to witness pain inflicted by himself would be
more than he could endure.

Emilia breathed a low, "Good night."

"Good night, my love--all right to-morrow!" he replied briskly; and
remorse touching his kind heart as the music of her 'good night'
penetrated to it by thrilling avenues, he added injudiciously: "Don't
fret. We'll see what we can do. Soon make matters comfortable."

"I love you, and I know you will not stab me," she answered.

"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 t