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 shopkeeper. 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.
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