conversation with his friends, did his injured brother ever revert to
the subject! That Algernon did not feel the blow, could scarcely be
inferred from his silence. The grief he felt was too acute for words,
and Algernon was still too faithful to the object of his first ardent
attachment to upbraid her conduct to others. Mark, who could not
understand this delicacy of sentiment, concluded that Elinor was no
longer regarded with affection by her lover. Elinor comprehended his
silence better, and she loved him more intensely for his forbearance.

Algernon the world reputed rich and happy, and the Squire despised
Elinor when her person was no longer coveted by his rival. His temper,
constitutionally bad, became intolerable, and he treated his
uncomplaining wife with such unkindness, that it would have broken her
heart, if the remembrance of a deeper sorrow had not rendered her
indifferent to his praise or censure. She considered his kindest mercy
was neglect.

Having now no other passion to gratify but avarice, Mark Hurdlestone's
hoarding propensities returned with double force. He gradually
retrenched his domestic expenses; laid down his carriage; sold his
horses; discharged his liveried servants; and, to the astonishment of
his wondering neighbors, let the noble park to a rich farmer in the
parish, with permission to break it up with the plough. He no longer
suffered the produce of his extensive gardens to be consumed in the
house, or given to the poor; but sold the fruit and vegetables to any
petty greengrocer in the village, who thought it worth his while to walk
up to the Hall, and drive a bargain with the stingy Squire. He not only
assisted in gathering the fruit, for fear he should be robbed, but often
acted as scarecrow to the birds, whom he reviled as noisy, useless
nuisances, vexatiously sent to destroy the fruits of the earth.