and conduct in regard to the painful matter was
such as to add to Juliet's confidence in him. Somehow she grew more at
ease in his company, and no longer took pains to avoid him.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

COW-LANE-CHAPEL.

By degrees Mr. Drake's mind grew quiet, and accommodated itself to the
condition of the new atmosphere in which at first it was so hard for him
to draw spiritual breath. He found himself again able to pray, and while
he bowed his head lower before God, he lifted up his heart higher toward
him. His uncle's bequest presenting no appropriative difficulties, he at
once set himself to be a faithful and wise steward of the grace of God,
to which holy activity the return of his peace was mainly owing. Now and
then the fear would return that God had sent him the money in
displeasure, that He had handed him over all his principal, and refused
to be his banker any more; and the light-winged, haunting dread took
from him a little even of the blameless pleasure that naturally
belonged to the paying of his debts. Also he now became plainly aware of
a sore fact which he had all his life dimly suspected--namely, that
there was in his nature a spot of the leprosy of avarice, the desire to
accumulate. Hence he grew almost afraid of his money, and his anxiety to
spend it freely and right, to keep it flowing lest it should pile up its
waves and drown his heart, went on steadily increasing. That he could
hoard now if he pleased gave him just the opportunity of burning the
very possibility out of his soul. It is those who are unaware of their
proclivities, and never pray against them, that must be led into
temptation, lest they should forever continue capable of evil. When a
man could do a thing, then first can he abstain from doing it. Now, with
his experience of both poverty and riches, the minister knew that he
must make them both follow like hounds at his heel. If he were not to
love money, if, even in the free use of it, he were to regard it with
honor, fear its loss, forget that it came from God, and must return to
God through holy channels, he must sink into a purely contemptible
slave. Where would be the room for any further repentance? He would have
had every chance, and failed in every trial the most opposed! He must be
lord of his wealth; Mammon must be the slave, not Walter Drake. Mammon
must be more than his brownie, more than his Robin Goodfellow; he must
be the subject Djin of a holy spell--holier than So