Her son was slowly but surely recovering, and his preservation from meeting sudden death unprepared, was to her a source of unutterable thankfulness. Her own family appeared to regard her with even more tender affection than if no coldness had ever arisen between them; and their love was to her beyond price. Even Sir Gilbert’s harsh, worldly character was somewhat softened by trials, and by the unmerited kindness which he met with from those whom, in his prosperity, he had slighted and shunned. Lady Grange felt that her prayers had been answered indeed, though in a way very different from what she had hoped or expected. The chain by which her son had been gradually drawn down towards ruin, by those who sought his company for the sake of his money, had been suddenly snapped by the loss of his fortune. The weak youth was left to the guidance of those to whom his welfare was really dear. Philip, obliged to rouse himself from his indolence, and exert himself to earn his living, became a far wiser and more estimable man than he would ever have been as the heir to a fortune; and he never forgot the lesson which pain, weakness, and shame had taught him—that the way of evil is also the way of sorrow: Thorns and snares are in the way of the froward.
Who Wisdom’s path forsakes,
Leaves all true joy behind:
He who the peace of others breaks,
No peace himself shall find.
Flowers above and thorns below,
Little pleasure, lasting woe—
Such is the fate that sinners know!
The drunkard gaily sings
Above his foaming glass