Hours long, we sat together without speaking.  It was a spiritual swoon which Heaven sends us when the load of pain becomes greater than we can bear.  At last the old man arose, took my hand and said:  “We see each other to-day for the last time, for you must leave here, and my days are numbered.  There is but one thing I must say to you—­a secret which I have carried all my life, and confessed to no one.  I have always longed to confess it to some one.  Listen to me.  The spirit which has left us was a beautiful spirit, a majestic, pure soul, a deep, true heart.  I knew one spirit as beautiful as hers—­still more beautiful.  It was her mother.  I loved her mother, and she loved me.  We were both poor, and I struggled with life to obtain an honorable position both on her account and my own.  The young Prince saw my bride and loved her.  He was my Prince; he loved her ardently.  He was ready to make any sacrifice and to elevate her, the poor orphan, to the rank of Princess.  I loved her so that I sacrificed the happiness of my love for her.  I forsook my native land and wrote her I would release her from her vow.  I never saw her again, except on her death-bed.  She died in giving birth to her first daughter.  Now you know why I loved your Marie, and prolonged her life from day to day.  She was the only being that linked my heart to this life.  Bear life as I have borne it.  Lose not a day in useless lamentation.  Help mankind whenever you can.  Love them and thank God that you have seen and known and loved on this earth such a human heart as hers—­and that you have lost it.”

“As God will.” said I, and we parted for life.

* * * * *

And days and weeks and months and years have flown.  Home is a stranger to me, and a foreign land is my home.  But her love remains with me, and as a tear drops into the ocean, so has her love dropped into the living ocean of humanity and pervades and embraces millions—­millions of the “strange people” whom I have so loved from childhood.

* * * * *

Only on quiet summer days like this, when one in the green woods has nature alone at heart, and knows not whether there are human beings. without, or he is living entirely alone in the world, then there is a stir in the graveyard of memory, the dead thoughts, rise again, the full omnipotence of love returns to the heart and streams out from that beautiful being who once looked upon me with her deep unfathomable eyes.  Then it seems as if the love for the millions were lost in the love for the one, my good angel, and my thoughts are dumb in the presence of the incomprehensible enigma of endless and everlasting love.

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