“Come, O my soul’s soul,” he passionately implored; “why delay a moment? Surely you feel, as I do, that eternity itself is too short to hold such bliss as ours. It seems to me that I can see our home already. Have I not always seem it in my dreams? It is white, love, is it not, with polished columns, and a sculptured cornice against the blue? Groves of laurel and oleander and thickets of roses surround it; but from the terrace where we walk at sunset, the eye looks out over woodlands and cool meadows where, deep-bowered under ancient boughs, a stream goes delicately toward the river. Indoors our favorite pictures hang upon the walls and the rooms are lined with books. Think, dear, at last we shall have time to read them all. With which shall we begin? Come, help me to choose. Shall it be ‘Faust’ or the ‘Vita Nuova,’ the ‘Tempest’ or ‘Les Caprices de Marianne,’ or the thirty-first canto of the ‘Paradise,’ or ‘Epipsychidion’ or ‘Lycidas’? Tell me, dear, which one?” As he spoke he saw the answer trembling joyously upon her lips; but it died in the ensuing silence, and she stood motionless, resisting the persuasion of his hand. “What is it?” he entreated. “Wait a moment,” she said, with a strange hesitation in her voice. “Tell me first, are you quite sure of yourself? Is there no one on earth whom you sometimes remember?” “Not since I have seen you,” he replied; for, being a man, he had indeed forgotten. Still she stood motionless, and he saw that the shadow deepened on her soul. “Surely, love,” he rebuked her, “it was not that which troubled you? For my part I have walked through Lethe. The past has melted like a cloud before the moon. I never lived until I saw you.” She made no answer to his pleadings, but at length, rousing herself with a visible effort, she turned away from him and moved toward the Spirit of Life, who still stood near the threshold. “I want to ask you a question,” she said, in a troubled voice. “Ask,” said the Spirit. “A little while ago,” she began, slowly, “you told me that every soul which has not found a kindred soul on earth is destined to find one here.” “And have you not found one?” asked the Spirit. “Yes; but will it be so with my husband’s soul also?” “No,” answered the Spirit of Life, “for your husband imagined that he had found his soul’s mate on earth in you; and for such delusions eternity itself contains no cure.” She gave a little cry. Was it of disappointment or triumph? “Then--then what will happen to him when he comes here?” “That I cannot tell you. Some field of activity and happiness he will doubtless find, in due measure to his capacity for being active and happy.” She interrupted, almost angrily: “He will never be happy without me.” “Do not be too sure of that,” said the Spirit. She took no notice of this, and the Spirit continued: “He will not understand you here any better than he did on earth.”