“You seem freshened, brother,” said Beatrice, perceiving that he lacked words for the full expression of his intense feelings.

“It’s the power of a new mind.  I am quickened in spirit.”

“I see you are; and is it not wonderful how much a person whom we do not daily meet can inspire us?  What an impetus such an one brings to us, even though but a few words may be spoken.  Its fresh magnetic life mingles with our own, and tinctures our inspirations and aspirations with a new fervor.

“True; how much we have to learn regarding social intercourse.  We have in society so little spontaniety, that it will take many genial natures like that of Miss Wyman to melt the frost away.”

She saw that he was pleased with Dawn, and felt glad.  It was almost a relief to feel the strong tension of his love for her relax a little.  It is not often that sisters have thus to complain, but Basil Bernard knew what love was, and how to enfold his object in an atmosphere of delight.  It was protective and uplifting, refining and broadening, to all who felt it.

There are some natures like that of an infant, ever asking for love, and protecting arms.  Such need to be carried on one’s bosom, and nestled, through their whole life.  There are maternally protecting arms that can bear them thus, and in the sphere of their life and love their souls would rest.  There are natures that will ever be as children, and also those who can meet their wants.

Such clinging lives should be all infancy; they should be cared for, until their souls are strong enough to stand alone.

Why is there so much that is fragmentary and unlinked?  Why is the vine left to trail, when the strong oak, with its giant trunk, is standing bare?  It’s all in parts, disjointed, broken, as though some world of glory had been torn asunder, and its portions scattered here and there.

There is completeness somewhere-in the land beyond-where the sighs, the tears, the passionate longings, the hopes and fears will be all adjusted, and our souls rest in celestial harmony.

We cannot question but that it will be well with us there, if we have striven for the good, our souls conceived of, here.  If, with good purpose and intent, we have out-wrought the hints and suggestions which have been given us of life, we must find growing states of rest, sometime, to repletion.  It will not be all peace there; for the two worlds are interblended, and shadow into each other.  There is an interplay of life and emotion forever, and to those who sense it, a joy too deep to be portrayed by human words; a truth which helps us to bear the sorrows of this life serenely, and more fully appreciate its joys.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Basil and his sister sat longer that summer evening than was their wont.  There was a deeper intoning of sentiment, a closer blending of thought, or rather, their individual states had been more clearly defined by the day’s incidents.