"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. It has only been decided upon a few days." "And now?" "It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should meet again. I never can love him, though I greatly esteem him, and--" "_Esteem!_" "A sad substitute for love; but what is love without esteem?" "What is esteem without love?" "Very true. It was not my own doing, although I reluctantly gave my consent. If I can with honor release myself from this unfortunate engagement--I have thought more and more every day since, that love, true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction the union of two beings--but why should I talk in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot feel, however that you are a stranger; we have surely met before in some other state of being. I am a firm believer in the beautiful faith of the transmigration of souls--of pre-existence. What is it that brings two congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in more perfect harmony than whole years could effect among ordinary acquaintances?" "Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it is mysterious. We can call it elective affinity, and can talk very learnedly upon the singular attraction of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, and in the end be as far from the real cause as we were before the Solomonic experiments were made. The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point-- "I do not like you, Dr. Fell, The reason why I cannot tell." I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., would be just as conclusive. We are so accustomed to seeing drops of water drawing near to meet each other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect unity, that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as we do also at the fact that oil and water will not mingle." "Just as my soul will _not_ mingle with the souls of some. There is an antagonism more or less decided between my inner self and many persons I know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly with, and wish to be friendly with, many of them my cousins and aunts. Then again toward some am I as irresistibly attracted." Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during our conversation, and her glorious soul looked through them--earnest, simple and pure. "Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during which her sweet, soft eyes had been gazing on the dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt attracted toward you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole soul to you as freely as though you were my own brother." The word _brother_ sent a disagreeable shiver through me that all her sweet confidence could not banish. "But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I doing? The rain has stopped, and the waning sun warns me that it is time to be at home. And what _must_ you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the--" "That you are the most lovely, most glorious of all Heaven's glorious creatures; that you--"