eyes rest on her, with that
quiet perfectness of love--better than any lover's love--

"The fulness of a stream that knew no fall"--
the love of a husband who has been married nearly twenty-five years.

Here a troop of company arrived, and John left me to assume his duty as
host.

No easy duty, as I soon perceived; for times were hard, and men's minds
troubled. Every one, except the light-heeled, light-hearted
youngsters, looked grave.

Many yet alive remember this year--1825--the panic year. War having
ceased, commerce, in its worst form, started into sudden and unhealthy
overgrowth. Speculations of all kinds sprung up like fungi, out of
dead wood, flourished a little, and dropped away. Then came ruin, not
of hundreds, but thousands, of all ranks and classes. This year, and
this month in this year, the breaking of many established firms,
especially bankers, told that the universal crash had just begun.

It was felt even in our retired country neighbourhood, and among our
friendly guests this night, both gentle and simple--and there was a
mixture of both, as only a man in Mr. Halifax's position could mix such
heterogeneous elements--towns-people and country-people, dissenters and
church-folk, professional men and men of business. John dared to do
it--and did it. But though through his own personal influence many of
different ranks whom he liked and respected, meeting in his own house,
learned to like and respect one another, still, even to-night, he could
not remove the cloud which seemed to hang over all--a cloud so heavy
that none present liked referring to it. They hit upon all sorts of
extraneous subjects, keeping far aloof from the one which evidently
pressed upon all minds--the universal distress abroad, the fear that
was knocking at almost every man's door but ours.

Of course the talk fell on our neighbours--country talk always does. I
sat still, listening to Sir Herbert Oldtower, who was wondering that
Lord Luxmore suffered the Hall to drop into disgraceful decay, and had
begun cutting down the pine-woods round it.

"Woods, older than his title by many a century--downright sacrilege!
And the property being entailed, too--actual robbery of the heir! But I
understand anybody may do anything with Lord Ravenel--a mere selfish,
cynical, idle voluptuary!"

"Indeed you are mistaken, Sir Herbert!" cried Mr. Jessop of Norton
Bury--a very honest fellow was Josiah Jessop. "He banks with me--that
is,