“What is more real than a house, or a ship, or a bill of exchange?” asked Mr. Fanshaw.

“Imperishable love—­incorruptible integrity—­unflinching honor,” was replied.

“Do these exist?” Mr. Fanshaw looked incredulous.

“We know that they exist.  You know that they exist.  History, observation, experience, reason, all come to the proof.  We doubt but in the face of conviction.  Are these not higher and nobler things than wealth, or worldly honors; than place or power?  And is he not serenest and happiest whose life rests on these as a house upon its foundations?  You cannot shake such a man.  You cannot throw him down.  Wealth may go, and friends drop away like withering autumn leaves, but he stands fast, with the light of heaven upon his brow.  He has faith in virtue—­he has trust in God—­he knows that all will come out right in the end, and that he will be a wiser and better man for the trial that tested his principles—­for the storms that toughened, but did not break the fibres of his soul.”

“You lift me into a new region of thought,” said Mr. Fanshaw, “A dim light is breaking into my mind.  I see things in a relation not perceived before.”

“Will you call with me on an old friend?” asked Mr. Wilkins.

“Who?”

“A poor man.  Once rich.”

“He might feel my visit as an intrusion.”

“No.”

“What reduced him to poverty?”

“A friend, in whom he put unlimited faith, deceived and ruined him.”

“Ah!”

“And he has never been able to recover himself.”

“What is his state of mind?”

“You shall judge for yourself.”

In poor lodgings they found a man far past the prime of life.  He was in feeble health, and for over two months had not been able to go out and attend to business.  His wife was dead, and his children absent.  Of all this Mr. Fanshaw had been told on the way.  His surprise was real, when he saw, instead of a sad-looking, disappointed and suffering person, a cheerful old man, whose face warmed up on their entrance, as if sunshine were melting over it.  Conversation turned in the direction Mr. Wilkins desired it to take, and the question soon came, naturally, from Mr. Fanshaw—­

“And pray, sir, how were you sustained amid these losses, and trials, and sorrows?”

“Through faith and patience,” was the smiling answer.  “Faith in God and the right, and patience to wait.”

“But all has gone wrong with you, and kept wrong.  The friend who robbed you of an estate holds and enjoys it still; while you are in poverty.  He is eating your children’s bread.”

“Do you envy his enjoyment?” asked the old man.

Mr. Fanshaw shook his head, and answered with an emphasis—­“No!”