that just in proportion as each member thinks of and works for himself alone will that individual be working in selfish disorder, and, like the member of the human body that takes more than its share of blood, must certainly suffer the pain of inflammation.  The truth then presented to my mind was like a flood of light; but I did not love the truth, and shut my eyes to the light that revealed more than I wished to know.  Ah, sir! if I could have accepted all you then advanced—­if I could have overcome the false principle of self-seeking then so clearly shown to be the curse of life—­I would not have involved myself in business that must now separate me for months from my home and family.”

“And should you achieve all that was anticipated in the beginning,” said Mr. Allison, “I doubt if you will find pleasure enough in the realization to compensate for this hour of pain, to say nothing of what you are destined to suffer during the months of separation that are before you.”

“Your doubts are my own,” replied Markland, musingly.  “But,”—­and he spoke in a quicker and lighter tone,—­“this is all folly!  I must go forward, now, to the end.  Why, then, yield to unmanly weakness?”

“True, sir,” returned the old man.  “No matter how difficult the way in which our feet must walk, the path must be trodden bravely.”

“I shall learn some lessons of wisdom by this experience,” said Mr. Markland, “that will go with me through life.  But, I fear, they will be all too dearly purchased.”

“Wisdom,” was the answer, “is a thing of priceless value.”

“It is sometimes too dearly bought, for all that.”

“Never,” replied the old man,—­“never.  Wisdom is the soul’s true riches; and there is no worldly possession that compares with it in value.  If you acquire wisdom by any experience, no matter how severe it may prove, you are largely the gainer.  And here is the compensation in every affliction, in every disappointment, and in every misfortune.  We may gather pearls of wisdom from amid the ashes and cinders of our lost hopes, after the fires have consumed them.”

Mr. Markland sighed deeply, but did not answer.  There was a dark sky above and around him; yet gleams of light skirted a cloud here and there, telling him that the great sun was shining serenely beyond.  He felt weak, sad, and almost hopeless, as he parted from Mr. Allison, who promised often to visit his family during his absence; and in his weakness, he lifted his heart involuntarily upward, and asked direction and strength from Him whom he had forgotten in the days when all was light around him, and, in the pride and strength of conscious manhood, he had felt that he possessed all power to effect the purposes of his own will.

CHAPTER XXXII.