“I should have walked home in the snow that night; I should have taken you to the Wolfertons’ house, and telegraphed for her; I should have gone to the parish clergyman--done anything but what I did, and which led to my dragging you into such a pit as this!” with an inclusive wave of his hand and a glance round the mean little attic. “But it won’t be for long now,” he added in a lower voice. “Oh, Laurence,” she almost screamed as she seized his arm, “why are you telling me such terrible things, when we have a little gleam of hope at last? It is cruel--cruel of you. You couldn’t mean that, after all we have gone through together--that when we are approaching smooth water--you--you would leave me!” And here she suddenly broke down and burst into tears, for, alas! she had an agonizing inward conviction that there was truth in what he said. How pale and thin and wasted he looked! No one would recognize him who had seen him last year, with his shorn head, gaunt cheekbones, and sunken eyes; and she had a heart-breaking feeling that it was not mere actual illness, nor the dregs of that terrible fever, that were to blame for this, but that cruel, pitiless, ferocious wolf called WANT. He was dying of the lack of mere necessaries, and she, miserable woman, was powerless to procure them; and for this she laid down her head and wept as if her heart would burst--her passionate sobbing fairly frightened Laurence. Madeline’s tears were rarely seen; Madeline was always bright, cheery, almost gay, at the very worst of times; and now came a reaction, and she was weeping as he had never seen any one weep before. “Don’t, Maddie, don’t,” he whispered, feebly stroking her hair; “you will be better without me, though you don’t think so now. You are young--only nineteen--many bright days may be in store for you. I will leave you contentedly, if your father has come home. The greatest horror I have ever known will be lifted from my mind. You don’t know, dearest, what torments have racked me as I lay awake through the long, dark nights, listening to the clocks striking hour after hour, and wondering what would become of you? Now Providence has answered the question; your father will give you and the child a home. There, Maddie, there, don’t; I can’t bear to see you cry like this; and I--I may get over it, and---- And now, you see, you have awakened the baby!” as a shrill, querulous cry from the next room interrupted what he was about to say. The maternal instinct thus roused, he hoped that her tears would cease, as he was powerless to arrest them. And Madeline completely broken down--Madeline, who was always so brave, who had come out in a new light under the scorching flames of the furnace of affliction--was a sight that completely unmanned him.