Markland went back into his counting-room, almost wondering at the peace he felt.  Taking up a newspaper, he read of a rare specimen of statuary just received from Italy, the property of a well-known merchant.  Envy did not move quickly enough.  The old love of beauty and nature, which envy, detraction, greed of gain, and their blear-eyed companions, had kept in thrall, was already in a freer state; and found in good-will, kindness and tranquility, congenial friends.

So, love of art and beauty ruled his mind in spite of envy, and Markland found real pleasure in the ideal given him by the description he read.  It was, almost, a new sensation.

A friend came in, and spoke in praise of one who had performed a generous deed.  There was an instant motion among the guests in Markland’s heart, the evil inciting to envy and detraction, the good to approval and emulation.  Tranquility moved to the door through which she had come in, as if to depart; but Good-will, Kindness and Approbation, drew her back, and held, with her, possession of the mind they sought to rule.  Envy and Detraction were shorn, for the time, of their power.

Wondering, as he lay on his bed that night, over the strange peace that pervaded his mind—­a peace such as he had not known for many years—­Markland fell asleep; and in his sleep there came to him a dream of the human heart and its guest-chamber; and what we have faintly suggested, was made visible to him in living personation.

He saw how evil affections, when permitted to dwell therein, became its enemies and tormentors; and how, just in the degree that kind and good affections gained entrance, there was peace, tranquility and satisfaction.

“I have looked into my own heart,” he said, on awaking.

The incident of the child, and the dream that followed, were, in Providence, sent for Markland’s instruction.  And they were not sent in vain.  Ever after he set watch and ward at the doors of his heart.  Evil guests, already in possession, were difficult to cast out; but, he invited the good to come in, opening the way by kind and noble acts, done in the face of opposing selfishness.  Thus he went on, peopling the guest-chamber with sweet beatitudes, until angels instead of demons filled his house of life.

VI.

Cast down, but not destroyed.

“TRIPPED again!”

“Who?”

“Brantley.”

“Poor fellow!  He has a hard time of it.  Is he all the way down?”

“I presume so.  When he begins to fall, he usually gets to the bottom of the ladder.”

It was true; Brantley had tripped again; and was down.  He had been climbing bravely for three or four years, and was well up the ladder of prosperity, when in his eagerness to make two rundles of the ladder at a step instead of one, he missed his footing and fell to the bottom.  My first knowledge of the fact came through the conversation just recorded.  From all I could hear, Brantley’s failure was a serious one.  I knew him to be honorable and conscientious, and to have a great deal of sensitive pride.