an sweetly sang, "He that is low need
fear no fall."

Still, their peace was as the stillness of a grey autumnal day, when
no sun is to be seen above, and when a quiet film seems drawn before
both sky and earth, as if to rest the wearied eyes after the summer's
glare. Few events broke the monotony of their lives, and those events
were of a depressing kind. They consisted in Ruth's futile endeavours
to obtain some employment, however humble; in Leonard's fluctuations
of spirits and health; in Sally's increasing deafness; in the final
and unmendable wearing-out of the parlour carpet, which there was
no spare money to replace, and so they cheerfully supplied its want
by a large hearth-rug that Ruth made out of ends of list; and, what
was more a subject of unceasing regret to Mr Benson than all, the
defection of some of the members of his congregation, who followed
Mr Bradshaw's lead. Their places, to be sure, were more than filled
up by the poor, who thronged to his chapel; but still it was a
disappointment to find that people about whom he had been earnestly
thinking--to whom he had laboured to do good--should dissolve the
connexion without a word of farewell or explanation. Mr Benson did
not wonder that they should go; nay, he even felt it right that they
should seek that spiritual help from another, which he, by his error,
had forfeited his power to offer; he only wished they had spoken of
their intention to him in an open and manly way. But not the less did
he labour on among those to whom God permitted him to be of use. He
felt age stealing upon him apace, although he said nothing about
it, and no one seemed to be aware of it; and he worked the more
diligently while "it was yet day." It was not the number of his years
that made him feel old, for he was only sixty, and many men are hale
and strong at that time of life; in all probability, it was that
early injury to his spine which affected the constitution of his mind
as well as his body, and predisposed him, in the opinion of some at
least, to a feminine morbidness of conscience. He had shaken off
somewhat of this since the affair with Mr Bradshaw; he was simpler
and more dignified than he had been for several years before, during
which time he had been anxious and uncertain in his manner, and more
given to thought than to action.

The one happy bright spot in this grey year was owing to Sally. As
she said of herself, she believed she grew more "nattered" as she
g