And yet, knowing the story of your life, in all its tragic details, its temptations, and its trials, I have felt to-day many times, that I loved as deeply or as unwisely as other women have loved--loved enough to find my happiness in reforming the object of my affections. Let no man consider this a woman's true sphere. If, out of the vastness of her love, she is willing to lean down to him, let him bow in reverence before her: not lightly taking it as her duty and his right. But while I love you, and must love you forever, even as you have said, I can never be your wife. I cannot lead you into your newly-found Kingdom of Love, when by so doing I must tread upon another woman's bleeding heart. I could not accept happiness bought at the price of another's misery and despair. Over the fairest day the future could prepare for us, there would always hang the shadow of another's life-long sorrow. Could I answer you otherwise, under the circumstances, I would not be worthy of your love. Yet, if I did not know that this life is only a very small portion of our existence, I might be so mad with selfish passion that I should forget every consideration save my love for you. But I believe that those who belong to each other spiritually will find each other and dwell together through eternities of love. I believe we shall. But while here, on earth, we must make ourselves worthy of that life, by unselfish thoughtfulness of others, by self-denial, and suffering, if need be. You have made a terrible mistake, which can only be atoned for by a life of repentance and resolve. And I must suffer with you. The great wrong, in a mistake or a sin like yours, is that it reaches out and injures those who are guiltless. Two people make laws unto themselves and say, 'It is no one's business--we wrong no one save ourselves.' Yet invariably others _are_ eventually wronged. No soul ever transgressed a divine law of morality, without injuring some innocent being. There is no absolute individuality. We are all linked and lashed together by invisible but indestructible threads, spun down from the Great Source. When any man attempts to extricate himself from others and stand alone, a guide and god unto himself, he but more hopelessly interlaces and snarls the web which unites us all. You, my friend, have snarled the threads about us: but even in my pain there lies a joy in the consciousness that I suffer through, and with you. It is sweeter than to rejoice with another. In the beginning of time, God married our souls; that we are separated during one brief stage of existence cannot hinder our final eternal union. Be true to your new self, and 'run your race in patience, for you are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses.' God bless you, and adieu. "HELENA."