Not to undeceive her now, would be to wed her under false pretences; but to free her from deception, would be to free her from her plighted word, and this his sense of honour would not let him do.  I will not say that Michael grossly and unfeelingly proposed to circumvent—­to cheat and rob the luckless Margaret; or that his conscience, that mighty law unto itself, did not wince before it held its peace.  There were strugglings and entreaties, and patchings up, and excuses, and all the appliances which precede the commission of a sinful act.  Reasons for honesty and disinterestedness were converted for the occasion into justifications of falsehood and artifice.  A paltry regard for himself and his own interests was bribed to take the shape of filial duty and affection.  The result of all his cogitation and contrivances was one great plan.  He would not take from his Margaret’s fortune.  No, under existing circumstances it would be wrong, unpardonable; but at the same time he was bound to protect his father’s reputation.  The engagement with the widow must go on.  He could not yield the prize; life without her would not be worth the having.  What was to be done, then?  Why, to wed, and to secure the maintenance of the firm by means which were at his command.  Once married to the opulent Mrs Mildred, and nothing would be easier than to obtain men of the first consideration in the county to take a share of his responsibilities.  Twenty, whom he could name, would jump at the opportunity and the offer.  The house stood already high in the opinion of the world.  What would it be with the superadded wealth of the magnificent widow?  The private debts of his father were a secret.  His parsimonious habits had left upon the minds of people a vague and shadowy notion of surpassing riches; Had he not been rich beyond men’s calculation, he would not have ventured to live so meanly.  Michael derived support from the general belief, and resolved most secularly to take a full advantage of it.  If he could but procure one or two monied men as partners in the house, the thing was settled.  Matters would be snug—­the property secured.  The business must increase.  The profits would enable him in time to pay off his father’s liabilities, and if, in the meanwhile, it should be deemed expedient to borrow from his wife, he might do so safely, satisfied that he could repay the loan, at length, with interest.  Such was the outline of Michael Allcraft’s scheme.  His spirit was quiet as soon as it was concocted, and he reposed upon it for a season as tired men sleep soundly on a bed of straw.

Whilst the bridegroom was distressed with his peculiar grievances, the lovely bride was doomed to submit to annoyances scarcely less painful.  Her late husband’s friend, Doctor Wilford, who had been abroad for many months, suddenly returned home, and, in fulfilment of Mildred’s dying wish, repaired without delay to the residence of his widow.  Wilford had seen a great deal of the world.  He did not