Father Luke entered and seated himself in a vacant chair, which stood near the table. Resting his arm on the table,--(he sat directly beneath the lamp, in a circle of shadow,)--and shading his eyes with his hand, he silently surveyed the woman, over whom the light fell in full radiance. There was dark hair, there were bright eyes, beneath that vail of lace; a young, a richly moulded form, beneath that garb of sable; but in vain he endeavored to trace the features of the unknown. "You received a letter?" said the lady, in a low voice. "As I was passing up Broadway, a few moments since, a letter was placed in my hand, bidding my presence at this house, on an errand of life and death." She started at the sound of that sonorous and hollow voice, and, through her vail, seemed to survey him earnestly. "I am glad that you have come. I thank you with all my soul. Although not a member of your church, I have heard of you for a long time, and heard of you as one who, having suffered much himself, was especially fitted to render consolation to the heart-broken and despair-stricken. Now I am heart-broken and despairing,"--she paused,--"I am dying,--" "Dying?" he echoed. "And have sent for you, believing you to be an honest man, not to hear confession of my sins, for they are too dark to be told or be forgiven. But to ask you a simple question, which I implore you to answer, not as a priest, but as a man;--to answer, not with the set phrases of your vocation, but frankly and fully, even as you wish to have peace yourself in the hour of death." "And that question,--" the priest's head bent low upon his breast, and he surveyed her earnestly with his eyes hidden beneath his down-drawn brows. "Do you believe in any Hereafter? Do you believe in another world? Does the death of the body end the story? Or, after the death of the body, does the soul rise and live again in a new and diviner life?" "My sister," said the priest, with much emotion, "I _know_ that there is a hereafter,--I _know_ that the death of the body, is not the end of all, but simply the first step in an eternal pilgrimage--" "This you say as a man, and not as a priest,--this is your true thought, as you wish to have peace, in the hour of your death?" "Even so," said Father Luke. "Thank you, O, bless you with all my soul. One question more,--O, answer me with the same frankness.--In the next world shall we meet, and know the friends whom we have loved in this?" "We shall meet, we shall know, we shall love them in the next world, as certainly as we ever met, knew and loved them in this," was the answer of Father Luke, given with all the force and earnestness of undeniable sincerity. "Do you think we gather affections to our heart, only to bury them in the grave?" The lady rose from her chair,--