But the tone in which she uttered the closing sentence was touched with tender sadness.
"Rather let me say," I made answer, "_in the degree_ that we are right with ourselves.

None attain unto perfection here." "Yet," said the lady, with a sweet calmness of manner that made her look beautiful, "is it not pleasant to imagine a state of perfection--or rather a state in which evil is quiescent, and the heart active with all good and loving impulses?
How full of inspiration is such an ideal of life! But the way by which we must go, if we would rise into this state, is one of difficulty and perpetual warfare.

The enemies of our peace are numbered by myriads; and they seek with deadly hatred to do us harm." "And yet are powerless," said I, "if we keep the outworks of our lives in order." "Yes," she answered, "it is the very ultimate or last things of our lives where the power of repulsion resides.

We can, in temptation, be it ever so strong, refuse to _act_ in the wrong direction--refuse to do an evil thing, because it is sinful.

And this is our bulwark; this is our tower of safety; for it is only in _wrong doing_ that our enemies gain the victory over us.