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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Mary Marston"

It was thus the devil befooled him. Perhaps the worst
devil a man can be posessed withal, is himself. In mere madness,
the man is beside himself; but in this case he is inside himself;
the presiding, indwelling, inspiring sprit of him is himself, and
that is the hardest of all to cast out. Godfrey rose form the
reading of that letter _cured,_ as he called it. But it was
a cure that left the wound open as a door to the entrance of evil
things. He tore the letter into a thousand pieces, and throw them
into the empty grate--not even showed it the respect of burning
it with fire.
Mary had got her affairs settled, and was again in the old place,
the hallowed temple of so many holy memories. I do not forget it
was a shop I call a temple. In that shop God had been worshiped
with holiest worship--that is, obedience--and would be again.
Neither do I forget that the devil had been worshiped there too--
in what temple is he not? He has fallen like lightning from
heaven, but has not yet been cast out of the earth. In that shop,
however, he would be worshiped no more for a season.
At once she wrote to Letty, saying the room which had been hers
was at her service as soon as she pleased to occupy it: she would
take her father's.
Letty breathed a deep breath of redemption, and made haste to
accept the offer. But to let Mrs. Wardour know her resolve was a
severe strain on her courage.


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