'Give them, Elinor, fair play, and they will soon, in return, give you tranquillity. Reflect only,--that that quality, that faculty, be its nature, its durability, and its purpose what they may, which the world at large agrees to call soul, has its universal comprehension from a something that is felt; not that is proved! Yet who, and where is the Atheist, the Deist, the Infidel of any description, gifted with the means to demonstrate, that, in quitting the body with the parting breath, it is necessarily extinct? that it may not, on the contrary, still BE, when speech and motion are no more? when our flesh is mingled with the dust, and our bones are dispersed by the winds? and BE, as while we yet exist, no part of our body, no single of our senses; never, while we seem to live, visible, yet never, when we seem to die, perishable? May it not, when, with its last sigh, it leaves the body, mingle with that vast expanse of air, which no instrument can completely analyse, and which our imperfect sight views but as empty space? May it not mount to upper regions, and enjoy purified bliss? May not all air be peopled with our departed friends, hovering around us, as sensible as we are unconscious? May not the uncumbered soul watch over those it loves? find again those it had lost? be received in the Heaven of Heavens, where it is destined,--not, Oh wretched idea!--to eternal sleep, inertness, annihilating dust;--but to life, to joy, to sweetest reminiscence, to tenderest re-unions, to grateful adoration to intelligence never ending! Oh! Elinor! keep for ever in mind, that if no mortal is gifted to prove that this is true,--neither is any one empowered to prove that it is false!' 'Oh delicious idea!' cried Elinor, rising: 'Oh image of perfection! Oh Albert! conquering Albert! I hope,--I hope;--my soul may be immortal!--Pray for me, Albert! Pray that I may dare offer up prayers for myself!--Send me your Christian divine to guide me on my way; and may your own heaven bless you, peerless Albert! for ever!--Adieu! adieu! adieu!'-- Fervently, then, clasping her hands, she sunk, with overpowering feelings, upon her knees. Juliet came forward to support her; and Harleigh, deeply gratified, though full of commiseration, eagerly undertook the commission; and, echoing back her blessing, without daring to utter a word to Juliet, slowly quitted the spot. CHAPTER LXXXVI Elinor, for a considerable time, remained in the same posture, ruminating, in silent abstraction; yet giving, from time to time, emphatic, though involuntary utterance, to short and incoherent sentences. 'A spirit immortal!--' 'Resurrection of the Dead!--' 'A life to come!--' 'Oh Albert! is there, then, a region where I may hope to see thee again!' Suddenly, at length, seeming to recollect herself, 'Pardon,' she cried, 'Albert, my strangeness,--queerness,--oddity,--what will you call it? I am not the less,--O no! O no! penetrated by your impressive reasoning--Albert!--'