himes--Norton Bury was proud of its Abbey
chimes--burst out in the tune of "Life let us Cherish."

The bells went through all the tune, to the very last note--then ensued
silence. The crowd were silent too--almost breathless with intent
listening--but, alas! not to the merry Abbey chimes.

The bank door remained closed--not a rattle at the bolts, not a clerk's
face peering out above the blind. The house was as shut-up and
desolate as if it were entirely empty.

Five whole minutes--by the Abbey clock--did that poor, patient crowd
wait on the pavement. Then a murmur arose. One or two men hammered at
the door; some frightened women, jostled in the press, begun to scream.

John could bear it no longer. "Come along with me," he said,
hurriedly. "I must see Jessop--we can get in at the garden door."

This was a little gate round the corner of the street, well known to us
both in those brief "courting days," when we came to tea of evenings,
and found Mrs. Jessop and Ursula March in the garden watering the
plants and tying up the roses. Nay, we passed out of it into the same
summer parlour, where--I cannot tell if John ever knew of the incident,
at all events he never mentioned it to me--there had been transacted a
certain momentous event in Ursula's life and mine. Entering by the
French window, there rose up to my mental vision, in vivid contrast to
all present scenes, the picture of a young girl I had once seen sitting
there, with head drooped, knitting. Could that day be twenty-five
years ago?

No summer parlour now--its atmosphere was totally changed. It was a
dull, dusty room, of which the only lively object was a large fire, the
under half of which had burnt itself away unstirred into black dingy
caverns. Before it, with breakfast untasted, sat Josiah Jessop--his
feet on the fender, his elbows on his knees, the picture of despair.

"Mr. Jessop, my good friend!"

"No, I haven't a friend in the world, or shall not have an hour hence.
Oh! it's you, Mr. Halifax?--You have not an account to close? You don't
hold any notes of mine, do you?"

John put his hand on the old man's shoulder, and repeated that he only
came as a friend.

"Not the first 'friend' I have received this morning. I knew I should
be early honoured with visitors;" and the banker attempted a dreary
smile. "Sir Herbert and half-a-dozen more are waiting for me
up-stairs. The biggest fish must have the first bite--eh, you know?"

"I know,