Edith had always possessed great influence over her husband.  He loved her very tenderly; and was ever loth to do any thing to which she made opposition.  She was no creature of mere impulse—­of weak caprices—­of captious, yet unbending will.  If she opposed her husband in any thing, it was on the ground of its non-agreement with just principles; and she always sustained her positions with the clearest and most direct modes of argumentation.  Not with elaborate reasonings, but rather in the declaration of things self-evident—­the quick perceptions of a pure, truth-loving mind.  How inestimable the blessing of such a wife!

“No doubt you have the better reason on your side, Edith,” replied her husband, his manner very much subdued.  “But it is difficult for me to unclasp my hand to let fall therefrom the natural good which I can see and estimate, for the seemingly unreal and unsubstantial good that, to your purer vision, looms up so imposingly.”

“Unreal—­unsubstantial—­Edward!” said Edith, in reply to this.  “Are states of mind unreal?”

“I have not always found them so,” was answered.

“Is happiness, or misery, unreal?  Oh, are they not our most palpable realizations?  It is not mere wealth that is sought for as an end—­that is not the natural good for which the many are striving.  It is the mental enjoyment that possession promises—­the state of mind that would be gained through gold as a means.  Is it not so?  Think.”

“Yes—­that is, undoubtedly, the case.”

“But, is it possible for money to give peace and true enjoyment, if, in the spirit, even though not in the letter, violence is done to the laws of both God and man?  Can ill-gotten gain produce heavenly beatitudes?—­and there are none others.  The heart never grows truly warm and joyous except when light from above streams through the darkened vapours with which earth-fires have surrounded it.  Oh, my husband!  Turn yourself away from this world’s false allurements, and seek with me the true riches.  Whatever may be your lot in life—­I care not how poor and humble—­I shall walk erect and cheerful by your side if you have been able to keep a conscience void of offence; but if this be not so, and you bring to me gold and treasure without stint, my head will lie bowed upon my bosom, and my heart throb in low, grief-burdened pulsations.  False lights, believe me, Edward, are hung out by the world, and they lure life’s mariner on to dangerous coasts.  Let us remain on a smooth and sunny sea, while we can, and not tempt the troubled and uncertain wave, unless duty requires the venture.  Then, with virtue at the helm, and the light of God’s love in the sky, we will find a sure haven at last.”

“It shall be as you wish, Edith,” said Claire, as he gazed with admiring affection into the bright and glowing face of his wife, that was lovely in her beautiful enthusiasm.

“No—­no, Edward!  Don’t say as I wish,” was her quick reply.  “I cannot bear that you should act merely under my influence as an external pressure.  If I have seemed to use persuasion, it has not been to force you over to my way of thinking.  But, cannot you see that I am right?  Does not your reason approve of what I say?”