ry night reading the Bible. All went on smoothly for
a long time; for months and months I did not find the fatal passage, so
that I almost thought that I had imagined it. My affairs prospered much
the while, so that I was almost happy,--taking pleasure in everything
around me,--in my wife, in my farm, my books and compositions, and the
Welsh language; till one night, as I was reading the Bible, feeling
particularly comfortable, a thought having just come into my head that I
would print some of my compositions, and purchase a particular field of a
neighbour--O God--God! I came to the fatal passage.

'Friend, friend, what shall I say? I rushed out. My wife followed me,
asking me what was the matter. I could only answer with groans--for
three days and three nights I did little else than groan. Oh the
kindness and solicitude of my wife! "What is the matter, husband, dear
husband?" she was continually saying. I became at last more calm. My
wife still persisted in asking me the cause of my late paroxysm. It is
hard to keep a secret from a wife, especially such a wife as mine, so I
told my wife the tale, as we sat one night--it was a mid-winter
night--over the dying brands of our hearth, after the family had retired
to rest, her hand locked in mine, even as it is now.

'I thought she would have shrunk from me with horror; but she did not;
her hand, it is true, trembled once or twice; but that was all. At last
she gave mine a gentle pressure; and, looking up in my face, she
said--what do you think my wife said, young man?'

'It is impossible for me to guess,' said I.

'"Let us go to rest, my love; your fears are all groundless."'

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

GETTING LATE--SEVEN YEARS OLD--CHASTENING--GO FORTH--LONDON--SAME
EYES--COMMON OCCURRENCE

'And so I still say,' said Winifred, sobbing. 'Let us retire to rest,
dear husband; your fears are groundless. I had hoped long since that
your affliction would have passed away, and I still hope that it
eventually will; so take heart, Peter, and let us retire to rest, for it
is getting late.'

'Rest!' said Peter; 'there is no rest for the wicked!'

'We are all wicked,' said Winifred; 'but you are afraid of a shadow. How
often have I told you that the sin of your heart is not the sin against
the Holy Ghost: the sin of your heart is its natural pride, of which you
are scarcely aware, to keep down which God in His mercy permitted you to
be terrified with the