eating more brilliantly, was a
condition of things to which his mind had never turned itself. In that
respect he accused himself of no want of judgment. But why had he, so
unrighteous himself, not made friends to himself of the Mammon of
unrighteousness? Why had he not conciliated Lord Mayors? Why had he
trod upon all the corns of all his neighbours? Why had he been
insolent at the India Office? Why had he trusted any man as he had
trusted Cohenlupe? Why had he not stuck to Abchurch Lane instead of
going into Parliament? Why had he called down unnecessary notice on
his head by entertaining the Emperor of China? It was too late now,
and he must bear it; but these were the things that had ruined him.

He walked into Palace Yard and across it, to the door of Westminster
Abbey, before he found out that Parliament was not sitting. 'Oh,
Wednesday! Of course it is,' he said, turning round and directing his
steps towards Grosvenor Square. Then he remembered that in the morning
he had declared his purpose of dining at home, and now he did not know
what better use to make of the present evening. His house could hardly
be very comfortable to him. Marie no doubt would keep out of his way,
and he did not habitually receive much pleasure from his wife's
company. But in his own house he could at least be alone. Then, as he
walked slowly across the park, thinking so intently on matters as
hardly to observe whether he himself were observed or no, he asked
himself whether it still might not be best for him to keep the money
which was settled on his daughter, to tell the Longestaffes that he
could make no payment, and to face the worst that Mr Squercum could do
to him,--for he knew already how busy Mr Squercum was in the matter.
Though they should put him on his trial for forgery, what of that? He
had heard of trials in which the accused criminals had been heroes to
the multitude while their cases were in progress,--who had been feted
from the beginning to the end though no one had doubted their guilt,--
and who had come out unscathed at the last. What evidence had they
against him? It might be that the Longestaffes and Bideawhiles and
Squercums should know that he was a forger, but their knowledge would
not produce a verdict. He, as member for Westminster, as the man who
had entertained the Emperor, as the owner of one of the most gorgeous
houses in London, as the great Melmotte, could certainly command the
best half of the bar. He alrea