It is not possible that any one who betakes himself to tortuous modes of effecting his purposes, and of securing the objects which a keen ambition may have proposed to him, can be _happy_. The perpetual dread of detection and failure, causes him to lie, as it were, ever writhing upon a bed of torture. To feel one's self _failing_, irretrievably, in spite of deeply-laid, desperate, and dishonorable schemes for securing success, is sickening and miserable indeed. One in such circumstances feels that the bitterness of disappointment will not be mitigated or assuaged by a consciousness of the sympathy and respect of those who have witnessed the unsuccessful attempts--a thought which is deadening to the soul; and Gammon felt himself among the most miserable of mankind. All other anxieties were, however, at present absorbed in one--that concerning the issue of the inquiry then pending; and which, as it were, darkened his spirit within him, and hung round his neck like a millstone. If the issue of that investigation should be adverse--he had absolutely nothing for it but instant flight from universal scorn and execration. Of what avail would then have been all his prodigious anxieties, sacrifices, and exertions, his deep-laid and complicated plans and purposes? He would have irretrievably damned himself, for what? To allow the wretch Titmouse to revel, for a season, in unbounded luxury and profligacy! What single personal advantage had Mr. Gammon hitherto obtained for himself, taxed to their utmost as had been his powerful energies for the last three years? First of all, as to Miss Aubrey, the lovely object of his intense desires--what advance had he made towards the accomplishment of his objects after all his profound and cruel treachery against her brother? Not a hair's-breadth. Nay, on the contrary, the slight footing of intimacy which he had contrived, in the first instance, to secure, he had now lost forever. Could they have failed to perceive, in spite of all his devices, his relentless hand in the recent persecution of Mr. Aubrey? The stern deportment of Mr. Runnington, who had expressly prohibited Mr. Aubrey from all communication with Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, except through Mr. Runnington himself--spoke volumes. Moreover, Mr. Gammon had chanced to be prowling about Vivian Street on the very evening on which Lord De la Zouch made his unexpected appearance with Mr. Aubrey, as already described; and Gammon had seen Mr. Aubrey, Mrs. Aubrey, and Miss Aubrey, followed by his Lordship, enter his carriage in dinner-costume; and he thought with a violent pang of one Mr. Delamere! He had also ascertained how suddenly his Lordship had come over from Paris--just at that crisis in the circumstances of the Aubreys; and how probable was it, that his Lordship's potent interference had originated the formidable proceedings of the ecclesiastical court! And suppose the result of them should be,