ch, sir--too much!" said Burrage, his eyes filling with water.
"You have half killed yourself here. I am sure your poor father never
expected this. Nobody could have expected it in his time, when you
were a little, fat, rosy-cheeked boy, running about without a thought,
except a thought of kindness for other people."

Michael Allcraft burst into a flood of tears--they gushed faster and
faster into his eyes, and he sobbed as only men sob who have reached
the climax of earthly suffering and trial.

"Do not take on so, my dear sir," said Burrage, running to him. "Pray,
be calm. I am sure you are unwell. You have been ill for some time.
You should see a doctor--although I am very much afraid that your
disease is beyond their cure--in truth I am."

"Burrage," said Michael in a whisper, and still sighing
convulsively--"It is all over. It is finished. Prepare for the
crash--look to your own safety. Hide yourself from the gaze of men. It
will strike us all dead."

"You frighten me, Mr Allcraft.--You are really very ill. Your brain is
overworked--you want a little repose and recreation."

"Yes, you are right Burrage--the recreation of a jail--the repose of a
tomb. We will have one, at least--yes, one--and I have made the
selection."

"Have you heard any bad news to-day, sir?"

"None--excellent news to-day. No more hopes and fears--no alarms--no
lying and knavery--eternal peace now, and not eternal wretchedness."

"Had you not better leave the bank, Mr Allcraft, and go home? Your
hands are burning hot. You are in a high fever."

"Put up the shutters--put up the shutters," muttered Michael, more to
himself than to his clerk. "Write _bankrupt_ on the door--write it in
large letters--in staring capitals--that the children may read the
word, and know why they are taught to curse me. You hear me, Burrage?"

"I hear what you say, sir, but I do not understand you. You want
rest--you are excited."

"I tell you, Burrage, I am quiet--I never was so quiet--never sounder
in body and mind. Will you refuse to listen to the truth? Man," he
continued, raising his voice and looking the clerk steadily in the
face. "I am ruined--a beggar. The bank is at its last gasp. The doors
are closed to-night--never to be re-opened."

"God forbid, sir!"

"Why so?--Would you drive me mad? Am I to have no peace--no rest? Am I
to be devoured, eaten away by anxiety and trouble? Have you no human
blood--no pity for me? Are you as selfish as the rest