I glanced at Sibyl. She looked pale,--but smiled as she met my questioning eyes. A sense of consolation crept warmly about my heart as I remembered that now, she had, as she told me 'learnt to love,'--and that therefore her marriage with me was no longer a question of material advantage alone. She was not my 'purchase,'--she was my love, my saint, my queen!--or so I chose to think, in my foolishness and vanity! The last tableau of all was now to come,--"Faith and Materialism," and it proved to be the most startling of the series. The auditorium was gradually darkened,--and the dividing curtain disclosed a ravishingly beautiful scene by the sea-shore. A full moon cast its tranquil glory over the smooth waters, and,--rising on rainbow-wings from earth towards the skies, one of the loveliest creatures ever dreamed of by poet or painter, floated angel-like upwards, her hands holding a cluster of lilies clasped to her breast,--her lustrous eyes full of divine joy, hope, and love. Exquisite music was heard,--soft voices sang in the distance a chorale of rejoicing;--heaven and earth, sea and air,--all seemed to support the aspiring Spirit as she soared higher and higher, in ever-deepening rapture, when,--as we all watched that aerial flying form with a sense of the keenest delight and satisfaction,--a sudden crash of thunder sounded,--the scene grew dark,--and there was a distant roaring of angry waters. The light of the moon was eclipsed,--the music ceased; a faint lurid glow of red shone at first dimly, then more vividly,--and 'Materialism' declared itself,--a human skeleton, bleached white and grinning ghastly mirth upon us all! While we yet looked, the skeleton itself dropped to pieces,--and one long twining worm lifted its slimy length from the wreck of bones, another working its way through the eye-holes of the skull. Murmurs of genuine horror were heard in the auditorium,--people on all sides rose from their seats--one man in particular, a distinguished professor of sciences, pushed past me to get out, muttering crossly--"This may be very amusing to some of you, but to me, it is disgusting!" "Like your own theories, my dear Professor!" said a rich laughing voice, as Lucio met him on his way, and the bijou theatre was again flooded with cheerful light--"They are amusing to some, and disgusting to others!----Pardon me!--I speak of course in jest! But I designed that tableau specially in your honour!" "Oh, you did, did you?" growled the Professor--"Well, I didn't appreciate it."