So Planner spake, scarcely crediting his good fortune, and almost mad with joy at his deliverance.  He had no rest until the seals were fixed to parchment, and the warrant of his release appeared in public print.  Within a week, the fettered man was free.  Within another week, his bounding spirits came like a spring-tide back to him, and in less than eight-and-twenty days of freedom and repose, he recovered quite as many years of sweet and precious life.  He made quick use of his wings.  At first, like a wild and liberated bird, he sported and tumbled in the air, and fixed upon no particular aim; a thousand captivating objects soon caught his eagle eye, and then he mounted, dazzled by them all, and soon eluded mortal sight and reach.  But, glad as was the schemer, his delight and sense of freedom were much inferior to those of his misguided and unlucky partner.  Michael breathed as a man relieved from nightmare.  The encumbrance which had for years prevented him from rising, that had so lately threatened his existence, was gone, could no longer hang upon him, haunt and oppress him.  What a deliverance!—­Yet, what a price had he paid for it!  True, but was not the money already sacrificed?  Would it have been restored, had the luckless speculator himself remained?  Never!  Well, fearful then as was the sum, let it go, taking the incubus along with it.  Allcraft took care to obtain the consent of Bellamy to his arrangement.  He wrote to him, explaining the reasons for parting with their partner; and an answer came from the landed proprietor, acquiescing in the plan, but slightly doubting the propriety of the movement.  As for Brammel, he consented, as he was ready to agree to any thing but a personal visit to the great metropolis.  And then, what was Michael’s next step?  A proper one—­to put out effectually the few sparks of scandal which might, possibly, be still flying about after the discovery of Planner’s scheme.  He worked fiercer than ever—­harder than the day-labourer—­at his place of business.  It was wise in him to do so, and thus to draw men’s thoughts from Planner’s faults to his own unquestioned merits.  And here he might have stopped with safety; but his roused, suspicious, sensitive nature, would not suffer him.  He began to read, then to doubt and fear men’s looks; to draw conclusions from their innocent words; to find grounds of uneasiness and torture in their silence.  A vulgar fellow treated him with rudeness, and for days he treasured up the man’s words, and repeated them to himself.  What could they mean?  Did people smell a rat?  Were they on the watch?  Did they suspect that he was poor?  Ah, that was it!  He saw it—­he believed he did—­that was equivalent to sight, and enough for him.  Men did not understand him.  He would not die so easily—­they must be undeceived.  Miserable Allcraft!  He speedily removed from his small cottage—­took a mansion, furnished it magnificently, and made it a palace in costliness and hospitality.  Ah! was he