?"

"Is it possible, sir?"

"It is the truth. But speak not of it. I will have your life if you
betray me until the event tells its own tale. We close the door
to-night, to open it no more. You hear the words. They are very simple
words. Why do you stare so, as if you couldn't guess their meaning?"

"Oh--I have dreaded this--I have suspected it!" said Burrage, wringing
his hands; "but it has always seemed impossible. Poor Mr Allcraft!"

"_Poor!_" exclaimed Michael. "Do you begin already? Do you throw it in
my teeth so soon? You are in the right, man--go with the stream--taunt
me--spit in my face--trample me in the dust!"

"Do not speak unkindly to me, master," said the old clerk. "You will
break my heart at once if you do. What you have told me is hard enough
to bear in one day."

Michael took the good fellow's hand, and answered, whilst his lips
quivered with grief, "It is--it is enough, old friend. Go your ways.
Leave me to myself. I have told you a secret--keep it whilst it
remains one. Oh, what a havoc! What devastation! Go, Burrage--go--seal
your lips--do not breathe a syllable--go to your work."

The clerk went as he was bid, but stupified and stunned by the
information he had received. He took his accustomed seat at the desk,
and placed a large ledger before him. He was occupied with one trifling
account for half the day, and did not finish it at last. A simple sum of
compound addition puzzled the man who, an hour before, could have gone
through the whole of the arithmetic in his sleep. Oh, boasted intellect
of man! How little is it thou canst do when the delicate and feeling
heart is out of tune! How impotent thou art! How like a rudderless ship
upon a stormy sea! Poor Burrage was helpless and adrift! And Michael sat
for hours together alone, in his little room. He was literally afraid to
creep out of it. He struggled to keep his mind steadily and composedly
fixed upon the fate that awaited him--a fate which he had marked out for
himself, and resolved not to escape. He forced himself to regard the
great Enemy of Man as _his_ best friend--his only comforter and refuge.
But just when he deemed himself well armed, least vulnerable,
and most secure, the awful _reality_ of death--its horrible
accompaniments--dissolution, corruption, rottenness, decay, and its
still more awful and obscure _uncertainties_, started suddenly before
him, and sent a sickening chill through every pore of his unnerved
flesh. Then he