"Evie," he said, "have you ever thought of the world in which our spirits dwell, as our bodies do in this one of matter and sense, and of how it may be peopled? I know," he went on hurriedly, "that it is the fashion nowadays to laugh at such ideas. I envy those who have never had cause to be convinced of their reality, and I hope that you may long remain among the number. But should that not be so, should those unseen influences ever touch your life, I want you to remember then, that, as one of the race for whom Christ died, you have as high a citizenship in that spirit land as any creature there: that you are your own soul's warden, and that neither principalities nor powers can rob you of that your birthright." I think my face must have shown my bewilderment, for he dropped my hand, and walked on with an impatient sigh. "You don't understand me. Why should you? I dare-say that I am talking nonsense--only--only--" His voice expressed such an agony of doubt and hesitation that I burst out-- "I think that I do understand you a little, Alan. You mean that even from unearthly enemies there is nothing that we need really fear--at least, that is, I suppose, nothing worse than death. But that is surely enough!" "Why should you fear death?" he said, abruptly; "your soul will live." "Yes, I know that, but still--" I stopped with a shudder. "What is life after all but one long death?" he went on, with sudden violence. "Our pleasures, our hopes, our youth are all dying; ambition dies, and even desire at last; our passions and tastes will die, or will live only to mourn their dead opportunity. The happiness of love dies with the loss of the loved, and, worst of all, love itself grows old in our hearts and dies. Why should we shrink only from the one death which can free us from all the others?" "It is not true, Alan!" I cried, hotly. "What you say is not true. There are many things even here which are living and shall live; and if it were otherwise, in everything, life that ends in death is better than no life at all." "You say that," he answered, "because for you these things are yet living. To leave life now, therefore, while it is full and sweet, untainted by death, surely that is not a fate to fear. Better, a thousand times better, to see the cord cut with one blow while it is still whole and strong, and to launch out straight into the great ocean, than to sit watching through the slow years, while strand after strand, thread by thread, loosens and unwinds itself,-- each with its own separate pang breaking, bringing the bitterness of death without its release. His manner, the despairing ring in his voice, alarmed me even more than his words. Clinging to his arm with both hands, while the tears sprang to my eyes-- "Alan," I cried, "don't say such things,--don't talk like that. You are making me miserable."