.
    The traditions of those bygone times, even to the smallest social
particular, enable one to understand more clearly the circumstances which
contributed to the formation of character. The daily life into which people are
bom, and into which they are absorbed before they are well aware, forms chains
which only one in a hundred has moral strength enough to despise, and to break
when the right time comes - when an inward necessity for independent individual
action arises, which is superior to all outward conventionalities. Therefore, it
is well to know what were the chains of daily domestic habit, which were the
natural leading-strings of our forefathers before they learnt to go alone.
    The picturesqueness of those ancient streets has departed now. The Astleys,
the Dunstans, the Waverhams - names of power in that district - go up duly to
London in the season, and have sold their residences in the county town fiftyyears ago, or more. And when the county town lost its attraction for the
Astleys, the Dunstans, the Waverhams, how could it be supposed that the
Domvilles, the Bextons, and the Wildes would continue to go and winter there in
their second-rate houses, and with their increased expenditure? So the grand old
houses stood empty awhile; and then speculators ventured to purchase, and to
turn the deserted mansions into many smaller dwellings, fitted for professional
men, or even (bend your ear lower, lest the shade of Marmaduke, first Baron
Waverham, hear) into shops!
    Even that was not so very bad, compared with the next innovation on the old
glories. The shopkeepers found out that the once fashionable street was dark,
and that the dingy light did not show off their goods to advantage; the surgeon
could not see to draw his patients' teeth; the lawyer had to ring for candles an
hour earlier than he was accustomed to do when living in a more plebeian street.
In short, by mutual consent, the whole front of one side of the street was
pulled down, and rebuilt in the flat, mean, unrelieved style of George the
Third. The body of the houses was too solidly grand to submit to alteration; so
people were occasionally surprised, after passing through a commonplace-looking
shop, to find themselves at the foot of a grand carved oaken staircase, lighted
by a window of stained glass, storied all over with armorial bearings.
    Up such a stair - past such a window (through which the moonlight fell on
her with a glory of many colours) - Ruth Hilton passed wearily one January
night, now many years ago. I call it night;
