“It will be in vain, then, for man to hope for any real good in this life, except he keep the commandments,” said Mr. Markland.

“All in vain,” was answered.  “And his keeping of them must involve something more than a mere literal obedience.  He must be in that interior love of what they teach, which makes obedience to the letter spontaneous, and not constrained.  The outward act must be the simple effect of a living cause.”

“Ah, my friend!” sighed Mr. Markland.  “It may be a true saying, but who can hear it?”

“We have wandered far in the wrong direction—­are still moving with a swift velocity that cannot be checked without painfully jarring the whole machinery of life; but all this progress is toward misery, not happiness, and, as wise men, it behooves us stop, at no matter what cost of present pain, and begin retracing the steps that have led only to discontent and disappointment.  It is all in vain that we fondly imagine that the good we seek lies only a little way in advance—­that the Elysian fields will, in the end, be reached.  If we are descending instead of ascending, how are we ever to gain the mountain top?  If we turn our backs upon the Holy City, and move on with rapid footsteps, is there any hope that we shall ever pass through its gates of pearl or walk its golden streets?  To the selfish natural mind, it is a ‘hard saying’ as you intimate, for obedience to the commandments requires the denial and rejection of self; and such a rejection seems like an extinguishment of the very life.  But, if we reject this old, vain life, a new vitality, born of higher and more enduring principles, will at once begin.  Remember that we are spiritually organized forms, receptive of life.  If the life of selfish and perverted ends becomes inactive, a new, better, and truer life will begin.  We must live; for life, inextinguishable life, is the inheritance received from the Creator, who is life eternal in himself.  It is with us to determine the quality of life.  Live we must, and forever—­whether in order or disorder, happiness or misery, is left to our own decision.”

“How the thought, as thus presented,” said Mr. Markland, very soberly—­almost sadly, “thrills me to the very centre of my being!  Ah! my excellent friend, what vast interests does this living involve!”

“Vast to each one of us.”

“I do not wonder,” added Mr. Markland, “that the old hermits and anchorites, oppressed, so to speak, by the greatness of immortal interests over those involved in natural life, separated themselves from the world, that, freed from its allurements, they might lead the life of heaven.”

“Their mistake,” said Mr. Allison, “was quite as fatal as the mistake of the worldling.  Both missed the road to heaven.”

“Both?” Mr. Markland looked surprised.