he darkness of
his meditations a flash burst from his lurid mind, a celestial light
appeared to dissipate this thickening gloom, and his soul felt as if
it were bathed with the softening radiancy. He thought of May Dacre,
he thought of everything that was pure, and holy, and beautiful, and
luminous, and calm. It was the innate virtue of the man that made this
appeal to his corrupted nature. His losses seemed nothing; his dukedom
would be too slight a ransom for freedom from these ghouls, and for
the breath of the sweet air.

He advanced to the Baron, and expressed his desire to play no more.
There was an immediate stir. All jumped up, and now the deed was done.
Cant, in spite of their exhaustion, assumed her reign. They begged him
to have his revenge, were quite annoyed at the result, had no doubt he
would recover if he proceeded. Without noticing their remarks, he seated
himself at the table, and wrote cheques for their respective amounts,
Tom Cogit jumping up and bringing him the inkstand. Lord Castlefort, in
the most affectionate manner, pocketed the draft; at the same time
recommending the Duke not to be in a hurry, but to send it when he was
cool. Lord Dice received his with a bow, Temple Grace with a sigh, the
Baron with an avowal of his readiness always to give him his revenge.

The Duke, though sick at heart, would not leave the room with any
evidence of a broken spirit; and when Lord Castlefort again repeated,
"Pay us when we meet again," he said, "I think it very improbable that
we shall meet again, my Lord. I wished to know what gaming was. I had
heard a great deal about it. It is not so very disgusting; but I am a
young man, and cannot play tricks with my complexion."

He reached his house. He gave orders for himself not to be disturbed,
and he went to bed; but in vain he tried to sleep. What rack exceeds the
torture of an excited brain and an exhausted body? His hands and feet
were like ice, his brow like fire; his ears rung with supernatural
roaring; a nausea had seized upon him, and death he would have welcomed.
In vain, in vain he courted repose; in vain, in vain he had recourse to
every expedient to wile himself to slumber. Each minute he started from
his pillow with some phrase which reminded him of his late fearful
society. Hour after hour moved on with its leaden pace; each hour he
heard strike, and each hour seemed an age. Each hour was only a signal
to cast off some covering, or shift his positio