“After that evening I can truly say that I never went out of my way to seek her. I know not what the instinct was that restrained me. It is one of those things about the human heart that is past finding out. It is true that I thought of her every day, and oftentimes I cast a wistful glance toward the street in which I knew she lived, but as I had nothing but my love for me to call there, I could not go. “And that period when I loved her unknown to herself or to any human being is treasured up in my soul as one of the purest and sweetest in existence. I really discovered, past any doubt, that there is a depth of exquisite joy in simply loving, whether the person you love knows of your love or not, or whether she returns it or not. It was like the secret discovery of a clear bubbling spring beside which my world-wearied spirit could linger in purest contentment and serenest joy. Love can distil its exquisite perfume in your own soul, whether it is wafted to others or not. It was when I was feeding upon the sweet bliss of this discovery that this verse formed itself almost unconsciously in my mind: “Hast thou found Love in all the sphere? Then know it by this perfect token, Thy love was never known or spoken, And still thy joy was all unbroken: Such love the stars revere! “Sometimes I fancied that she could hear my soul calling to her in the voiceless night, and that her soul made sweet responses. “But though I refrained almost conscientiously from seeking Allegra Alliston, fate seem to continually throw us together without the slightest design on our part. Do you want to know the surest sign of love in the world? It is when you can tell every time at which you have seen her whom you love, without missing a single instance. It may have been nothing more than a passing glimpse of her face in a prosaic street car but it is as firmly photographed in your memory as if you had held her tightly in your arms. I could not only remember every glimpse I had ever had of Allegra Alliston during the next six months, but I could repeat, with the accuracy of a phonograph, every word she had said in my hearing. “Once during this time I was passing a house in which she gave music lessons, although I did not know it until I heard her rapturous voice singing. I had never heard the song before, but being sung by her it was indelibly fixed in my memory. See, I can repeat it now: “COME BACK. “‘Come back!’ from many a broken home There comes a voice of sad endeavour To bring the loved ones back who roam To bring them back to dwell forever. ‘Come back, dear ones, Love calls you home, No more to doubt, no more to roam Come back--come back.’