Thus he strove to dissipate the feeling of obligation that began to rest on the mind of his unfortunate neighbour, while he carried out his purpose.  In due time, under the assignment which had been made, Woodbine Lodge and a large part of the elegant and costly furniture contained in the mansion, were sold, and the ownership passed into other hands.  With a meagre remnant of their household goods, the family retired to a humbler house.  Some pitied, and stood at a distance; some felt a selfish pleasure in their fall; and some, who had courted them in their days of prosperity, were among the foremost to speak evil against them.  But there were a few, and they the choicest spirits of the neighbourhood, who only drew nearer to these their friends in misfortune.  Among them was Mr. Allison, one of those wise old men whose minds grow not dim with advancing years.  He had passed through many trying vicissitudes, had suffered, and come up from the ordeal purer than when the fire laid hold upon the dross of nature.

A wise monitor had he been in Markland’s brighter days, and now he drew near as a comforter.  There is strength in true words kindly spoken.  How often was this proved by Mr. and Mrs. Markland, as their venerable friend unlocked for them treasures of wisdom!

The little parlour at “Lawn Cottage,” the name of their new home, soon became the scene of frequent reunions among choice spirits, whose aspirations went higher and deeper than the external and visible.  In closing around Mr. Markland, they seemed to shut him out, as it were, from the old world in which he had hoped, and suffered, and struggled so vainly; and to open before his purer vision a world of higher beauty.  In this world were riches for the toiler, and honour for the noble—­riches and honour far more to be desired than the gems and gold of earth or its empty tributes of praise.

A few months of this new life wrought a wonderful change in Markland.  All the better elements of his nature were quickened into activity.  Useful daily employment tranquillized his spirits; and not unfrequently he found himself repeating the words of Longfellow—­

“Something attempted, something done,
Had earned a night’s repose.”

So entirely was every thing of earthly fortune wrecked, and so changed were all his relations to the business world, that hope had yet no power to awaken his mind to ambition.  For the present, therefore, he was content to receive the reward of daily toil, and to be thankful that he was yet able to supply the real wants of his family.  A cheerful tone of feeling gradually succeeded the state of deep depression from which he had suffered.  His spirit, which had walked in darkness, began to perceive that light was breaking in through the hitherto impenetrable gloom, and as it fell upon the path he was treading, a flower was seen here and there, while the roughness his imagination had pictured became not visible.