"At least," added Psyche, in her clear, subdued voice, "you will make it seem more beautiful and indissoluble, and give it a deeper significance, than anyone else could have done. Yes, I am glad you came in time. Do you know, Eros, I did not think Mortimer would come at all? That passage in the letter that I did not read you spoke of a strange pestilence, and immediately it came into my mind that Mortimer was dead. And even now," she continued, turning to the guest, and half-timidly meeting his strong, unfathomable eyes with her own, "even now, though I see you here between us, I cannot feel as if our Mortimer were in this world. Are you really he? or a messenger come to tell us that he is gone?" "I am alive--am I not?" answered the guest, with a particularly radiant smile; "and if I am, then your Mortimer is also. As to my getting here at the right time, I am always sure to do that; it would be a sad business, indeed, if I were not. But are you both certain that you are glad to have me here?" "It would not be merry Christmas if you were not!" exclaimed Eros, heartily. "I am not always so well received," the other resumed. "I have been in all sorts of places, and have met all sorts of people, and almost all have called me abrupt and unceremonious. But then, not many know me for what I really am." "I think I know you," said Psyche, after a pause; "and I cannot imagine myself so happy that your coming would not make me happier." "You need not fear to know me, Psyche," returned the guest, with grave gentleness; "and really I am not so unsympathetic as I must often seem. But I have a task in the world which brings me less credit in the performance than in the after result. Mankind, you know, Eros, are not always wise and far-sighted enough to recognise at the moment what is most for their good in the long run." "Yes, I know that; but for my part I think I can tell what I need more quickly and surely than most people. For instance--that Psyche must be my wife, and that you must make her so." "You rate my powers too high," rejoined their friend, smiling again. "God only can make a man and woman one." "Oh, I don't trouble myself with such fine-drawn distinctions. If you pronounce the service over us, I will take the rest for granted. As I was telling Psyche the other day, it's not worth while looking beyond this world. If she is mine here, I'll risk our getting separated hereafter." "Hereafter may not be far off," said the guest, more gravely than he had yet spoken. "You were best not to leave it out of the account." "Death is my enemy--I can see no good in him!" declared Eros; "and I will do the best I can to have my happiness in spite of him." "He doesn't mean it!" exclaimed Psyche to their friend, in a low, appealing tone. "He knows that only Death can make Love immortal." "I must tell you," observed the guest, after a pause, "that I cannot stay here long; I shall be gone to-night. What I came to do, therefore, must be done soon."