It was twilight when they rose from their speechless communion, and each felt how much more blessed is the silence of those we love, than the words of one whose being is not in harmony with our own.

It was a relief to Dawn to drop out of her intense sphere into the easy, contented, every-day life of her friend.  They were not alike in temperament or thought.  It was that difference which drew them together, and made it agreeable for them to associate at times.  Such association brought rest to Dawn, and life to her friend.  There was little or no soul-affiliation, consequently no exhaustion.  It was the giving out of one quality, and the receiving of another entirely different, instead of the union of two of the same kind, hence there was not the reaction of nervous expenditure, which two ever feel, who perfectly blend, after a period of enjoyment.  How wise is that provision which has thrown opposites into our life, that we may not be too rapidly consumed.  For pure joy is to the soul what fire is to material objects, brilliant, but consuming.

“I am going to have some company to-night, charming people most of them.  I think you will enjoy them, Dawn; at least I hope so,” remarked Mrs. Austin, rocking leisurely in her sewing chair.

“No doubt I shall.”  She was not called upon to tell how she should enjoy them.  Amused she might be, but enjoyment, as Dawn understood it, was out of the question with such a class as came that evening, and to each of whom Mrs. Austin seemed very proud to introduce her friend.

Among the guests was one who attracted the particular attention of Dawn, not from grace of person or mind, although he had them, but from some interior cause.  He was tall, and rather elegant in appearance, a kind of external beauty which draws most women, and wins admirers in every circle.

At a glance Dawn perceived that although mentally brilliant, he had not the spiritual and moral compliment.  By his side stood a woman of the world, whom Dawn at once knew to be his wife, and on her, she felt that involuntarily her look was steadily, almost immovably fixed.

She felt like testing the power of inner vision.  It seemed to her that the woman was weighing heavily upon the man, holding him to earth rather than in any way uplifting him to heaven in his aspirations.  She saw that the chain which bound them, was large, coarse, and flashed like gold.  This led her to conclude that she married him for his wealth.  She saw that the chain was wound around them both so tight that it was almost suffocating, and that the links that passed over the woman’s heart were corroded and black.

At the instant that Dawn noticed this, some one approached the lady and asked her to seat herself at the piano.  She consented, and after a great many excuses and unnecessary movements, began to play.  A dark cloud took her place at the side of her husband when she left, which became greatly agitated as the music proceeded, and soon there issued from it a female form.  That face Dawn had surely seen somewhere; she passed her hand over her brow and endeavored to recall the familiar features.