do, that I cannot?' rejoined Nicholas. 'With
reference to them, especially, I am enjoined to the strictest silence on
this subject. What right have I to betray the confidence reposed in me,
when nothing but a miracle can prevent this sacrifice?'

'Think,' urged Newman. 'Is there no way.'

'There is none,' said Nicholas, in utter dejection. 'Not one. The father
urges, the daughter consents. These demons have her in their toils;
legal right, might, power, money, and every influence are on their side.
How can I hope to save her?'

'Hope to the last!' said Newman, clapping him on the back. 'Always hope;
that's a dear boy. Never leave off hoping; it don't answer. Do you mind
me, Nick? It don't answer. Don't leave a stone unturned. It's always
something, to know you've done the most you could. But, don't leave off
hoping, or it's of no use doing anything. Hope, hope, to the last!'

Nicholas needed encouragement. The suddenness with which intelligence of
the two usurers' plans had come upon him, the little time which remained
for exertion, the probability, almost amounting to certainty itself,
that a few hours would place Madeline Bray for ever beyond his reach,
consign her to unspeakable misery, and perhaps to an untimely death; all
this quite stunned and overwhelmed him. Every hope connected with her
that he had suffered himself to form, or had entertained unconsciously,
seemed to fall at his feet, withered and dead. Every charm with which
his memory or imagination had surrounded her, presented itself before
him, only to heighten his anguish and add new bitterness to his despair.
Every feeling of sympathy for her forlorn condition, and of admiration
for her heroism and fortitude, aggravated the indignation which shook
him in every limb, and swelled his heart almost to bursting.

But, if Nicholas's own heart embarrassed him, Newman's came to his
relief. There was so much earnestness in his remonstrance, and such
sincerity and fervour in his manner, odd and ludicrous as it always was,
that it imparted to Nicholas new firmness, and enabled him to say, after
he had walked on for some little way in silence:

'You read me a good lesson, Newman, and I will profit by it. One step,
at least, I may take--am bound to take indeed--and to that I will apply
myself tomorrow.'

'What is that?' asked Noggs wistfully. 'Not to threaten Ralph? Not to
see the father?'

'To see the daughter, Newman,' replied Nicholas. 'To do what, after