“Prepared to sink from affluence into poverty? To give up this home, where all is luxury and elegance, and go down into obscurity, perhaps privation and labor?” “Yes, father,” said Eunice, in a calm yet earnest voice. “Of all the good gifts which Providence placed in your hands, we have had our full share; and shall we hesitate or repine when reverses come? No; fear not to tell us all.” Mr. Townsend hardly knew what to say or think at such unexpected words. With himself the bitterness had passed; it was for his family that his heart ached, and from the thoughts of breaking to them the dreadful intelligence that he shrunk. But the way had been made, unexpectedly, plain before him; so plain that he could hardly believe himself awake, or venture to put his foot forth to walk therein. “My children!” he said, with much emotion, “you speak to me strange words. I can hardly believe that I hear them.” “But they are true words,” promptly replied Eunice, “for they come from our hearts. And now let us know the worst, that we may prepare for the worst. Of course we must leave this house and move into a smaller one.” “Yes, that step is inevitable,” returned the father, his voice sinking again into sadness. “And the more cheerfully it is taken, the less shall we feel the change,” said Eunice. “But, can you give up all? Can you sink down from the first circle into obscurity? Can you give up your associations and friendships? Ah! my children, you have not counted the cost.” “We have, fully, and are ready,” was the firm reply. After the silence of a few moments, Mr. Townsend said-- “What has been, perhaps, too long concealed from you, I will now reveal. Three years ago, I was worth three hundred thousand dollars, and believed myself beyond the danger of a reverse. At a time when I thought myself most firmly established, losses came, and followed each other in quick succession. I became alarmed, and my mind was thrown into confusion. From that time every thing I have done has been wrong--every move I have made, has been a false move. The last, and the one that has swept from me the remainder of my shattered fortune, was the investment of my money in United States Bank stock, which I considered as safe as any thing in the country. That for which I paid a hundred and forty thousand dollars, is now worth but little over ten or twelve thousand, and, judging from the past, will not be worth half of that in a month.” “Then why not sell it and save that little?” said Eunice, in a tone of decision that made Mr. Townsend lift his eyes to her face. The failing light gave him but an indistinct view of its expression. “I shall do it immediately,” he replied. “You understand, now, my children,” he added, “precisely the nature of my circumstances, and how low we have fallen. To maintain our present style of living, would exhaust our little remnant of property in two years.”