ome just in time for dinner.
That over, he could not sit or rest--he must be moving. He could not
live in quiet. "Quietness"--it was his own expression--"stunned him."
He rushed to the theatre, to balls, concerts, wherever there was
noise, talk, excitement, crowds of people; wherever there was release
from his own pricking conscience and miserable thoughts. And then to
parties; of course there was no lack of them, for their society was in
great request, and every one was eager for an invitation in return to
_Eden_--such being the strange misnomer of their magnificent
prison-house. And, oh, rare entertainments were they which the
suffering pair provided for the cold-hearted crew that flocked to
partake of their substance! How the poor creature smiled upon her
guests as they arrived, whilst her wounded heart bled on! How she
sang--exquisitely always--for their amusement and nauseous
approbation, until her sweet voice almost failed to crush the rising
tears! How gracefully she led off the merry dance whilst clogs were on
her spirits, weighing upon every movement. Extravagant joyousness!
Dearly purchased pleasure! Yes, dearly purchased, if only with that
half hour of dreadful silence and remorse that intervened between the
banquet and the chamber--not of sweet slumber and benevolent repose
but of restlessness and horrid dreams!

CHAPTER V.

THE CRISIS.

Michael was half mad in the midst of his troubles; and, in truth, they
gathered so thickly and rapidly about him, that he is to be admired
for the little check which he contrived to keep over his reason,
saving him from absolute insanity and a lunatic asylum. Mr Bellamy,
although away, made free with the capital of the bank, and applied it
to his own private uses. Mr Brammel, senior, after having, for many
years, made good to Allcraft the losses the latter had sustained
through his son's extravagance, at length grew tired of the work, and
left the neighbourhood, in disgust, as Michael thought, but, in sad
truth, with a bruised and broken heart. At last he had dismissed the
long-cherished hope of the prodigal's reformation, and with his latest
hope departed every wish to look upon his hastening decay and fall. He
crawled from the scene--the country; no one knew his course; not a
soul was cognizant of his intentions, or could guess his
resting-place. Augustus Theodore did not, in consequence of his
father's absence, draw less furiously upon the bank! He had never
hear