no upper region at all, and very little serenity in Michael’s composition.  He had been a wayward and passionate boy.  He was a restless and excitable man—­full of generous impulses, as I have hinted, but sudden and hasty in action—­swift in anger—­impatient of restraint and government.  His religious views were somewhat dim and undistinguishable even to himself.  He believed—­as who does not—­in the great First Cause, and in the usefulness of religion as an instrument of good in the hands of government.  I do not think he troubled himself any further with the subject.  He sometimes on the Sabbath went to church, but oftener stayed at home, or sought excitement with a chosen friend or two abroad.  He hated professing people, as they are called, and would rather shake hands with a housebreaker than a saint.  It has been necessary to state these particulars, in order to show how thoroughly he lived uninfluenced by the high motives which are at once the inspiration and the happiness of all good men—­how madly he rested on the conviction that religion is an abstract matter, and has nothing more to do with life and conduct than any other abstruse branch of metaphysics.  But in spite of this unsound state of things, the gentleman possessed all the showy surface-virtues that go so very far towards eliciting the favourable verdict of mankind.  He prided himself upon a delicate, a surprising sense of honour.  He professed himself ready to part with his life rather than permit a falsehood to escape his lips; he would have blushed to think dishonestly—­to act so was impossible.  Pride stood him here in the stead of holiness; for the command which he refused to regard at the bidding of the Almighty, he implicitly obeyed at the solicitation of the most ignoble of his passions.  It is difficult to imagine a more dangerous companion for a young widow than Michael Allcraft was likely to prove.  Manliness of demeanour, and a handsome face and figure, have always their intrinsic value.  If you add to these a cultivated mind, a most expressive and intellectual countenance, rich hazel eyes, as full of love as fire, a warm impulsive nature, shrinking from oppression, active in kindness and deeds of real benevolence—­you will not fail to tremble for my Margaret.  Abraham Allcraft was too shrewd a man to allude even most remotely to the actual reason of his son’s recall.  He knew very well that to hint at it was in the very outset to defeat his purpose.  He acted far more cautiously.  Michael had received a first rate education—­he had been to the university—­he had travelled through Italy and Germany; and when he received his father’s letter was acquiring business habits in a banking-house in London.  It was high time to settle seriously to work, so thought Allcraft senior, and suddenly determined to constitute his son a partner in his bank.  “He himself was getting old,” he said.  “Who knew what would happen?  Delays were dangerous.  He would delay no longer.  Now he was well, and Michael