while. The shop went fairly well, and
enabled Ernest to make the two ends meet. In the spring and summer of
1861 he even put by a little money again. In the autumn his wife was
confined of a boy--a very fine one, so everyone said. She soon
recovered, and Ernest was beginning to breathe freely and be almost
sanguine when, without a word of warning, the storm broke again. He
returned one afternoon about two years after his marriage, and found his
wife lying upon the floor insensible.

From this time he became hopeless, and began to go visibly down hill. He
had been knocked about too much, and the luck had gone too long against
him. The wear and tear of the last three years had told on him, and
though not actually ill he was overworked, below par, and unfit for any
further burden.

He struggled for a while to prevent himself from finding this out, but
facts were too strong for him. Again he called on me and told me what
had happened. I was glad the crisis had come; I was sorry for Ellen, but
a complete separation from her was the only chance for her husband. Even
after this last outbreak he was unwilling to consent to this, and talked
nonsense about dying at his post, till I got tired of him. Each time I
saw him the old gloom had settled more and more deeply upon his face, and
I had about made up my mind to put an end to the situation by a _coup de
main_, such as bribing Ellen to run away with somebody else, or something
of that kind, when matters settled themselves as usual in a way which I
had not anticipated.

CHAPTER LXXVI

The winter had been a trying one. Ernest had only paid his way by
selling his piano. With this he seemed to cut away the last link that
connected him with his earlier life, and to sink once for all into the
small shop-keeper. It seemed to him that however low he might sink his
pain could not last much longer, for he should simply die if it did.

He hated Ellen now, and the pair lived in open want of harmony with each
other. If it had not been for his children, he would have left her and
gone to America, but he could not leave the children with Ellen, and as
for taking them with him he did not know how to do it, nor what to do
with them when he had got them to America. If he had not lost energy he
would probably in the end have taken the children and gone off, but his
nerve was shaken, so day after day went by and nothing was done.

He had only got a few shillings in th