d he _is_ of tougher material," was answered, "that is, of finer
material. Brantley is not one of your common men."
"Still, there must be something wrong about him. Some defect of
judgment. He is a good climber; but not sure-footed. Or, it may be that
beyond a certain height his head grows dizzy."
"If one gets too eager in any pursuit, he is almost sure to make false
steps. I think Brantley became too eager. The steadily widening
prospect as he went up, up, up, caused his pulses to move at a quicker
rate."
"Too eager, and less scrupulous," I suggested.
"His honor is unstained," said the friend, with some warmth.
"In the degree that a man grows eager in pursuit, he is apt to grow
blind to things collateral, and less concerned about the principles
involved."
"In some cases that may be true, but is hardly probable in the case of
Brantley. I do not believe that he has swerved from integrity in
anything."
"It is my belief," I answered, "that if he had not swerved, he would
not have fallen. I may be wrong, but cannot help the impression."
"Brantley is an honest man. I will maintain that in the face of every
one," was replied.
"Honest as the world regards honesty. But there are higher than legal
standards. What A and B may consider fair, C may regard as
questionable. He has his own standard; and if he falls below that in
his dealings with men, he departs from his integrity."
"I have nothing to say for Brantley under that view of the subject,"
said the friend. "If he has special standards of morality, and does not
live up to them, the matter is between himself and his own conscience.
We, on the outside, are not his judges."
It so happened that I met Brantley a short time afterwards. The
circumstances were favorable, and our interview unreserved. He had sold
his house, and a large part of the handsome furniture it contained, and
was living in a humbler dwelling. I referred to his changed condition,
and spoke of it with regret.
"There is no gratuitous evil," he remarked. "I have long been satisfied
on that head. If we lose on one hand, we gain on another. And my
experience in life leads me to this conclusion, that the loss is
generally in lower things, and the gain in higher."
I looked into his face, yet bearing the marks of recent trial and
suffering, and saw in it the morning dawn.
"Has it been so with you?" I asked.
"Yes; and it has always been so," he answered, without hesitation. "It
is pai
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