for one week to retire the bill they held against him. The London house civilly complied with the request, and five days of that last and dreary week swept by, leaving poor Allcraft as ill prepared for payment as they had found him. What could he do? At length the gulf had opened--was yawning--to receive him. How should he escape it? Heaven, in its infinite mercy, has vouchsafed to men _angels_ to guide and cheer them on their difficult and thorny paths. Could Michael suffer, and Margaret not sympathize? Could he have a sorrow which she might chase away, and, having the power, lack the heart to do it? Impossible! Oh! hear her in her impassioned supplications; hear her at midnight, in their disturbed and sleepless bedchamber, whilst the doomed man sits at her side in agony, clasps his face, and buries it within his hand for shame and disappointment. "Michael, do not break my heart. Take, dearest, all that I possess; but, I entreat you, let me see you cheerful. Do not take this thing to heart. Whatever may be your trouble, confide it, love, to me. I will try to kill it!" "No, no, no," answered Allcraft wildly; "it must not be--it shall not be, dear Margaret. You shall be imposed upon no longer. You shall not be robbed. I am a villain!" "Do not say so, Michael. You are kind and good; but this cruel business has worn you out. Leave it, I implore you, if you can, and let us live in peace." "Margaret, it is impossible. Do not flatter yourself or me with the vain hope of extrication. Release will never come. I am bound to it for my life; it will take longer than a life to effect deliverance. You know not my calamities." "But I _will_ know them, Michael, and share them with you, if they must be borne. I am your wife, and have a right to this. Trust me, Michael, and do not kill me with suspense. What is this new affliction? Whatsoever it may be, it is fitting that I should know it--yes, will know it, dearest, or I am not worthy to lie beside you there. Tell me, love, how is it that for these many days you have looked so sad, and sighed, and frowned upon me. I am conscious of no fault. Have I done amiss? Say so, and I will speedily repair the fault?" Michael pressed his Margaret to his heart, and kissed her fondly. "Why, oh why, my Margaret, did you link your fate with mine?" "Why, having done so, Michael, do you not love and trust me?" "Love?" "Yes--_love_! Say what you will, you do not love me, if you hide your griefs from me. We are one. Let us be truly so. One in our joys and in our sufferings." "Dearest Margaret, why should I distress you? Why should I call upon you for assistance? Why drag your substance from you?--why prey upon you until you have parted with your all? I have taken too much already."