p but no
degradation. Formerly, pecuniary ruin was equivalent in my eyes to
personal dishonour. It is not so now; I know the difference. Ruin _is_
an evil, but one for which I am prepared; the day of whose coming I
know, for I have calculated. I can yet put it off six months--not an
hour longer. If things by that time alter, which is not probable; if
fetters, which now seem indissoluble, should be loosened from our trade
(of all things the most unlikely to happen), I might conquer in this
long struggle yet--I might--good God! what might I not do? But the
thought is a brief madness; let me see things with sane eyes. Ruin will
come, lay her axe to my fortune's roots, and hew them down. I shall
snatch a sapling, I shall cross the sea, and plant it in American woods.
Louis will go with me. Will none but Louis go? I cannot tell--I have no
right to ask."

He entered the house.

It was afternoon, twilight yet out of doors--starless and moonless
twilight; for though keenly freezing with a dry, black frost, heaven
wore a mask of clouds congealed and fast locked. The mill-dam too was
frozen. The Hollow was very still. Indoors it was already dark. Sarah
had lit a good fire in the parlour; she was preparing tea in the
kitchen.

"Hortense," said Moore, as his sister bustled up to help him off with
his cloak, "I am pleased to come home."

Hortense did not feel the peculiar novelty of this expression coming
from her brother, who had never before called the cottage his home, and
to whom its narrow limits had always heretofore seemed rather
restrictive than protective. Still, whatever contributed to his
happiness pleased her, and she expressed herself to that effect.

He sat down, but soon rose again. He went to the window; he came back to
the fire.

"Hortense!"

"Mon frere?"

"This little parlour looks very clean and pleasant--unusually bright,
somehow."

"It is true, brother; I have had the whole house thoroughly and
scrupulously cleaned in your absence."

"Sister, I think on this first day of your return home you ought to have
a friend or so to tea, if it were only to see how fresh and spruce you
have made the little place."

"True, brother. If it were not late I might send for Miss Mann."

"So you might; but it really is too late to disturb that good lady, and
the evening is much too cold for her to come out."

"How thoughtful in you, dear Gerard! We must put it off till another
day."

"I want some one to-day, d