sity; it had the corners turned
down in many places, and some hand, now forever quiet, had made at
certain passages strong pen-and-ink marks, long since browned by time.
Maggie turned from leaf to leaf, and read where the quiet hand pointed.
"Know that the love of thyself doth hurt thee more than anything in the
world.... If thou seekest this or that, and wouldst be here or there to
enjoy thy own will and pleasure, thou shalt never be quiet nor free
from care; for in everything somewhat will be wanting, and in every
place there will be some that will cross thee.... Both above and below,
which way soever thou dost turn thee, everywhere thou shalt find the
cross; and everywhere of necessity thou must have patience, if thou
wilt have inward peace, and enjoy an everlasting crown.... If thou
desire to mount unto this height, thou must set out courageously, and
lay the axe to the root, that thou mayest pluck up and destroy that
hidden inordinate inclination to thyself, and unto all private and
earthly good. On this sin, that a man inordinately loveth himself,
almost all dependeth, whatsoever is thoroughly to be overcome; which
evil being once overcome and subdued, there will presently ensue great
peace and tranquillity.... It is but little thou sufferest in
comparison of them that have suffered so much, were so strongly
tempted, so grievously afflicted, so many ways tried and exercised.
Thou oughtest therefore to call to mind the more heavy sufferings of
others, that thou mayest the easier bear thy little adversities. And if
they seem not little unto thee, beware lest thy impatience be the cause
thereof.... Blessed are those ears that receive the whispers of the
divine voice, and listen not to the whisperings of the world. Blessed
are those ears which hearken not unto the voice which soundeth
outwardly, but unto the Truth which teacheth inwardly."

A strange thrill of awe passed through Maggie while she read, as if she
had been wakened in the night by a strain of solemn music, telling of
beings whose souls had been astir while hers was in stupor. She went on
from one brown mark to another, where the quiet hand seemed to point,
hardly conscious that she was reading--seeming rather to listen while a
low voice said,--

"Why dost thou here gaze about, since this is not the place of thy
rest?