“I shall not sleep at home to-night, Burrage.  I have business which must be seen to.”

“Indeed, sir, you had better go home.  You are very unwell.”

“Silence, once more.  I tell you, Burrage, it cannot be.  This business must not be neglected.  I have written to Mrs Allcraft, explaining the reason of my absence.  You will yourself deliver the letter to her, with your own hands, Burrage.  You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” faltered Burrage, wishing himself deaf.

“Very well.  I have no more to say.  Good-by—­good-night.”

“Good-night, sir,” said the man, walking slowly off.

“Stay, Burrage.  You are a true old friend—­my oldest.  Give me your hand.  I have spoken unkindly—­very harshly and cruelly to-day.  Do not think ill of me.  My temper has been soured by the troubles of life.  You forgive me for my anger—­do you not?”

The old man did not answer.  He could not.  He held the hand of his master tightly in his own.  He drew it to his lips and kissed it; and then, ashamed not of the act, but of his unmanly tears, he walked slowly to the door, and quitted the room—­his head bending to the earth, whence it never again was raised.

Two hours later Michael was many miles away.  He had followed to his humble home the aged man who had that morning paid his substance into the bank.  Much as he had to answer for, Michael could not bear to carry about with him the knowledge that he had ruined and destroyed the grey-haired labourer.  Why and how it was that he felt so acutely for the stranger, and selected him from the hundreds who were beggared by his failure, it is impossible to guess.  It is certain that he restored every sixpence that had been deposited in the morning, and could not die until he had done so.  Where Allcraft passed the night was never known.  He was punctual to his appointment on the following morning; and so was Mr Bellamy.  It is due to the latter to state, that, at the latest moment, he was willing, as far as in him lay, to settle the difference without proceeding to extreme measures.  All that a man could offer, who did not wish to be suspected of rank cowardice, he offered without reservation.  But Allcraft was inexorable.  He repeated his insult on the field; and there was nothing to be done but to make him accountable for his words at the point of the pistol—­to receive and give THE SATISFACTION OF A GENTLEMAN.  Whatever satisfaction the mangled corpse of a man whom he had deeply injured, could afford the high-born Mr Bellamy, that gentleman enjoyed in a very few minutes after his arrival; for he shot his antagonist in the mouth, saw him spinning in the air, and afterwards lying at his feet—­an object that he could not recognize—­a spectacle for devils to rejoice in.  Happy the low-born man who may not have or feel such exquisite and noble SATISFACTION!