criminals, who fear the puny look of mortal man, and, unabashed, stalk beneath the eternal and the killing frown of God.  Michael fixed upon his remedy, and the delusive opiate gave him temporary ease; but, in an another instant, he derived even hope and consolation from another and altogether opposite view of things.  A thought suddenly occurred to him, as thoughts will occur to the tossed and working mind—­how, why, or whence we know not; and the drowning man, catching sight of the straw, did not fail to clutch it.  What if, after all, Mr. Bellamy proposed to sell his property in favour of the bank!!  Very likely, certainly; and yet Allcraft, sinking, could believe it possible—­yes possible, and (by a course of happy reasoning and self-persuasion) not only so—­but true.  And if this were Mr. Bellamy’s motive and design, how cruel had been his own suspicions—­how vain and wicked his previous disturbance and complaints!  And why should it not be?  Had he not engaged to restore the money which he had borrowed; and had he not given his word of honour to pay in a large amount of capital?  At the memorable meeting, had he not promised to satisfy Allcraft of the justice of his own proceedings, and the impropriety of Michael’s attack upon his character?  And had not the time arrived for the redemption of his word, and the payment of every farthing that was due from him?  Yes; it had arrived—­it had come—­it was here.  Mr Bellamy was about to assert his integrity, and the banking-house was saved.  Michael rose from his chair—­wiped the heavy sweat-drops from his brow—­dried his tears, and gave one long and grateful sigh for his deliverance from that state of horror, by which, for one sad, sickening moment, he had been bewildered and betrayed.  But, satisfied as he was, and rejoiced as he pretended to be, it could hardly be expected that a gentleman possessed of so lively a temperament as that enjoyed by Mr. Allcraft would rest quietly upon his convictions, and take no steps to strengthen and establish them.  Michael for many days past had had no direct communication with his absent partner, and, at the present moment, he was ignorant of his movements.  He resolved to make his way at once to the Hall, and to get what intelligence he could of its lord and master, from the servants left in charge of that most noble and encumbered property.  Accordingly he quitted his apartment, threw a ghastly smile into his countenance, and then came quickly upon his clerks, humming a few cheerful notes, with about as much spirit and energy as a man might have if forced to sing a comic song just before his execution.  Thoroughly persuaded that the officials had not obtained an inkling of what had transpired in his sanctum, and that he left them without a suspicion of evil upon their minds, he started upon his errand, and waited not for breath until he reached his destination.  He arrived at the lodge—­he arrived at the Hall.  He rang the loud bell, and a minute afterwards