“You will except the pastor’s, at least,” said Intemperance. “Yonder, on the path that leads to the school, I see his gentle daughter. She has warned many against me; and with her words, her persuasions, her prayers, has driven me from more than one home. I shrink from the glance of that soft, dark eye, as if it carried the power of Ithuriel’s spear. Ida seems to me to be purity itself; upon her, at least, you can have no hold.” “Were we nearer,” laughed the malignant spirit, “you would see my dark badge on the saint! Since her childhood I have been striving and struggling to make Ida Aumerle my own. Sometimes she has snapped my chain, and I am ofttimes in fear that she will break away from my bondage for ever. But methinks I have a firm hold over her now.” “Her pride must be spiritual pride,” observed Intemperance. “Not so,” replied his evil companion; “I tried that spell, but my efforts failed. While with sweet voice and winning persuasion Ida is now guiding her class to Truth, and warning her little flock against us both, would you wish to hearken to the story of the maiden, and hear all that I have done to win entrance into a heart which the grace of God has cleansed?” “Tell me her history,” said Intemperance; “she seems to me like the snowdrop that lifts its head above the sod, pure as a flake from the skies.” “Even the snowdrop has its roots in the earth,” was the sardonic answer of Pride. [1] “What a beautiful sermon you gave us to-day!” exclaimed a lady to her pastor. “The devil told me the very same thing while I was in the pulpit,” was his quaint, but comprehensive reply. CHAPTER II. RESISTED, YET RETURNING. “Mount up, for heaven is won by prayer; Be sober—for thou art not there!” KEBLE. “The sacred pages of God’s own book Shall be the spring, the eternal brook, In whose holy mirror, night and day, Thou’lt study heaven’s reflected ray. And should the foes of virtue dare With gloomy wing to seek thee there, Thou will see how dark their shadows lie, Between heaven and thee, and trembling fly.” MOORE.