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.
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