Mr. Carlton, who remembered the conversation held with the merchant two years previously, saw precisely the change that had taken place. He was aware that Mr. Townsend had met with a number of heavy losses in business, and these, with the distressing bereavement now sustained, fully explained the cause of his altered state. He had hope, notwithstanding the present aspect of his thoughts and feelings, that, in the end, light would break in upon the darkness of his mind, and peace reign where all was now agitation. The minister’s interview with the other members of the family, except Eunice, was little more satisfactory than that held with Mr. Townsend. Time enough had not elapsed for the stricken heart of the mother to react under the dreadful blow. To all Mr. Carlton’s words of consolation, tears were her only response. And it was just the same with Eveline. But Eunice seemed to forget her own pain of mind in the sympathetic concern she felt for her mother and father, and in her efforts to dry up their tears, her own ceased to flow. Thus it is, that in attempting to sustain others in affliction, our own hearts are comforted. Love is doubly blessed. “They are passing through deep waters,” said Mr. Carlton to himself, thoughtfully, as he pursued his way homeward, “but they will not be overwhelmed. They are in the fire of affliction, but the Refiner and Purifier sits by, and not an atom of what is good and true in them shall be consumed. It is painful now, but I trust that I shall yet see them come forth with rejoicing.” For some weeks Mr. Townsend had no heart to enter into any of the details of his business, nor to look at what was passing around him in the business world. He experienced a mental prostration that approached almost to paralysis. And it was the same with his wife, who, since the news of her son’s death, had not left her chamber, nor spoken a cheerful word. But, only for a short time longer, did this continue. Then there came another blow, sudden and appalling, that struck them down to the very earth. CHAPTER X. A GREAT DISASTER. Mr. Townsend left his home one morning, and was passing slowly along the street, in the direction of his counting-room, when a business friend, who was walking on the opposite side of the street, came briskly over on seeing him, and asked, in an agitated voice, “Have you heard the news from Philadelphia?” “No; what is it?” “The United States’ Bank has failed!” The face of Mr. Townsend became instantly pale, and he caught hold of an iron railing to support himself. “Impossible!” he said, in a faint, husky voice. “It is too true. Do you hold any of the stock?” “Every dollar I am worth is there!” “Every dollar! Surely not, Mr. Townsend!” “I’m ruined! ruined! ruined!” murmured the wretched man, losing all control of himself; “hopelessly ruined!”