He lavished gifts upon her; he lavished gifts upon her sisters, upon her
father; their welfare, he remembered, was part of the bargain. At least
she would know these--her dear ones--had gained by it, and, so far, her
sacrifice had not been in vain.

This thought comforted him a little. But the constant gnawing ache at
his heart, and the withdrawal of all object to live for, soon began to
tell upon his always feeble constitution.

Of what use was anything at all? His house or his lands! His pride in
his position--even his title of "squire," which he often heard now. All
were dead-sea fruit, dust and ashes; there never would be any Browns of
Bessington in the years to come. There never would be anything for him,
never any more.

For a week in September Captain and Mrs. Dominic Fitzgerald had paid
them a visit, and the brilliant bride had cheered them up for a little
and seemed to bring new life with her. She expressed herself as
completely satisfied with her purchase in the way of a husband; it was
just as she had known, three was a lucky number for her, and Dominic was
her soul's mate, and they were going to lead the life they both loved,
of continual movement and change and gayety.

But the situation at Bessington distressed her.

"Why, my dear, they are just like a couple of sick paroquets," she said
to her husband. "Mr. Brown don't look long for this world, and Theodora
is a shadow! What in the Lord's name has been happening to them?"