 is a singular character, Mark. He must have given her this, now.«
    Mark Tapley knew as well that she had bought it, to the end that that
unconscious speaker might carry some article of sterling value with him in his
necessity; as he knew that it was day, and not night. Though he had no more
acquaintance of his own knowledge with the history of the glittering trinket on
Martin's outspread finger, than Martin himself had, he was as certain that in
its purchase she had expended her whole stock of hoarded money, as if he had
seen it paid down coin by coin. Her lover's strange obtuseness in relation to
this little incident, promptly suggested to Mark's mind its real cause and root;
and from that moment he had a clear and perfect insight into the one absorbing
principle of Martin's character.
    »She is worthy of the sacrifices I have made,« said Martin, folding his
arms, and looking at the ashes in the stove, as if in resumption of some former
thoughts. »Well worthy of them. No riches:« here he stroked his chin, and mused:
»could have compensated for the loss of such a nature. Not to mention that in
gaining her affection, I have followed the bent of my own wishes, and baulked
the selfish schemes of others who had no right to form them. She is quite
worthy, more than worthy, of the sacrifices I have made. Yes, she is. No doubt
of it.«
    These ruminations might or might not have reached Mark Tapley; for though
they were by no means addressed to him, yet they were softly uttered. In any
case, he stood there, watching Martin, with an indescribable and most involved
expression on his visage, until that young man roused himself and looked towards
him; when he turned away, as being suddenly intent upon certain preparations for
the journey, and, without giving vent to any articulate sound, smiled with
surpassing ghastliness, and seemed by a twist of his features and a motion of
his lips, to release himself of this word:
    »Jolly!«
 

                                   Chapter XV

                     The Burden whereof Is, Hail, Columbia!

A dark and dreary night; people nestling in their beds or circling late about
the fire; Want, colder than Charity, shivering at the street comers;
church-towers humming with the faint vibration of their own tongues, but newly
resting from the ghostly preachment One! The earth covered with a sable pall as
for the burial of yesterday; the clumps of dark trees, its giant plumes
