Allcraft was not cold before Mr Bellamy was at sea, sailing for France.  The latter had not put his feet upon foreign soil, before his property was seized by hungry creditors.  The bank was closed.  Burrage himself pasted on the shutters the paper that notified its failure.  Augustus Theodore Brammel heard of the stoppage whilst he was at breakfast, sipping chocolate; and greatly he rejoiced thereat.  His delight was sensibly diminished in the course of the morning, when he received a letter informing him of his father’s death, and an intimation from a lawyer, that every farthing which he inherited would be taken from him, as goods and chattels, for the discharge of claims which the creditors of the bank might have against him.  Later in the day, he heard of Allcraft’s death and Bellamy’s escape, and then he rushed into a chemist’s shop and bought an ounce of arsenic; but after he had purchased it, he had not heart enough to swallow it.  Enraged beyond expression—­knowing not what to do, nor upon whom to vent his rage—­it suddenly occurred to him to visit Mrs Allcraft, and to worry her with his complaints.  He hurried to her house, and forced himself into her presence.  We will not follow him, for grief is sacred; and who that had the heart of man, would desecrate the hearth hallowed by affliction, deep and terrible as that of our poor Margaret?

CHAPTER VII.

THE VICARAGE.

Our history began at the Vicarage; there let it end.  It is a cheerful summer’s morning, and Margaret sits in the study of her friend Mr. Middleton, who has learned to look upon his charge as upon a daughter.  She is still attired in widow’s weeds, but looks more composed and happy than when we saw her many months ago there.

“You will not leave us, then,” said the good vicar; “we have not tired you yet?”

“No,” answered Margaret, with a sweet contented smile, “here must I live and die.  My duties will not suffer me to depart, even were I so inclined.  What would my children do?”

“Ah, what indeed?  The school would certainly go to rack and ruin.”

“And my old friends, the Harpers and the Wakefields?”

“Why, the old ladies would very soon die of a broken heart, no doubt of it; and then, there’s our dispensary and little hospital.  Why, where should we look for a new apothecary?”

“These are but the worst days of my life, Mr. Middleton, which I dedicate to usefulness.  How am I to make good the deficiency of earlier years?”

“By relying, my dear madam, upon the grace and love of Heaven, who in mercy regards not what we have been, but what we are.”

“And is there pardon for so great a sinner?”

“Doubt it not, dear lady.  Had you not been loved, you never would have been chastised—­you would never have become an obedient and willing child.  Be sure, dear Mrs Allcraft, that having repented, you are pardoned and reconciled to your Father.  Pray, hold fast to this conviction.  You have reason to believe it; for truly you have not despised the chastening of the Lord, nor fainted when you were rebuked of him.”