His boy, Felix, had knelt in one of them a few hours ago, looking out with grave childish eyes on the sunset.

The broad, shallow steps of the oaken staircase, trodden so many years by the feet of all who were dearest to him; the quiet chambers above where his mother, his wife, and his children were at this moment sleeping peacefully.

How unutterably and painfully sweet all his home was to him! Very prosperous his life had been; hardly overshadowed by a single cloud.

His father, who had been the third partner in the oldest bank in Riversborough, had lived until he was old enough to step into his place.
The bank had been established in the last century, and was looked upon as being as safe as the Bank of England.

The second partner was dead; and the eldest, Mr.Clifford, had left everything in his hands for the last five years.
No man in Riversborough had led a more prosperous life than he had.