"What will it cost?"

The doctor smiled. "A mere trifle; perhaps three shillings."

"I have not had such a sum in my possession for the last three years. He
will die before he will give it to me."

"Mad, mad, mad," said the doctor, shaking his head. "Well, my dear
lady, if he will not give it to save his worthless life, you must steal
it from him. If you fail, why let Nature take her course. His death
would certainly be your gain."

Returning to the sick room, she found the patient in a better temper,
evidently highly gratified at having expelled the doctor. Elinor thought
this a good opportunity to urge her request for a small sum of money to
procure medicines and other necessaries; but on this subject she found
him inexorable.

"Give you money to buy poison!" he exclaimed. "Do you take me for a
fool, or mad?"

"You are very ill, Marcus; you will die, without you follow Dr. Moore's
advice."

"Don't flatter yourselves. I don't mean to die to please you. There is a
great deal of vitality in me yet. Don't say another word. I will take
nothing but cold water; I feel better already."

"Pray God that you may be right," said Elinor. But after this fit of
rage, he fell into a stupor, and before night he was considerably worse.