The nearest person on earth, now, was his friend and sister Dawn, kin of spirit, heart and mind.  Regardless of people’s speech, he went often to her home, and received the sympathy he needed.  To him, she was life and inspiration.  Why should he not seek where he could find?  It was her soul-life he needed, and long and earnestly they conversed of those interior principles which so few perceive.

“I have learned by experience what true relationship may exist between men and women,” said Dawn to Edith, one day when every moment had been given to Herbert, “and how God intended us for each other?”

“And I see how your own life is increased by giving it to others, as you are every day doing.  If I had a husband, Dawn, I should enjoy him most after he had been in your society.  Uplifted and toned by the life of another, he could be far more to me,—­far dearer and vital.  I wonder women do not see this great truth.”

“They cannot on the merely human plane, which is ever selfish.  Raise them out of that, place them on the mount of vision, and they would at once see it, and be glad to give their husbands the liberty of true women’s society, knowing that they were extending their own lives in so doing.  If men are unduly restrained, they take a lower form of freedom.”

“It is too true.  I can now see that had I been allowed the earthly alliance, I might have been selfish and contracted.  I almost know I should.  O, Dawn, how much life is worth to us all; how much we have to thank our heavenly father for,—­most of all for the clouds with silver linings.”

“I am glad that you see it thus, my friend, my sister.  That is the soul’s only sure position.  Life is a great and glorious gift.  If all its hours were mixed with pain, even to have lived is grand.”  Then with her eyes looking afar, as if discerning scenes invisible to others, she repeated these beautiful lines: 

  “Two eyes hath every soul: 
    One into Time shall see;
  The other bend its gaze
    Into Eternity. 
  In all eternity
    No tone can be so sweet
  As where man’s heart with God,
    In unison doth beat. 
  What’er thou lovest, Man,
    That too become thou must;
  God-if thou lovest God;
    Dust-if thou lovest dust. 
  Let but thy heart, O man! 
    Become a valley low,
  And God will rain on it
    Till it will overflow.”

Golden bars of light lay in the room.  The sun was sinking peacefully to rest, like a great soul who had been faithful to every duty, and rayed out its life on the barren places of earth.  In that calm evening, in the greater calm of their lives they sat, gathering rest for the morrow, and peace for their midnight dreams-dreams which brought to them the forms of their loved ones who had gone but a little while before, and who loved them still, rippling the silent stream with memory-waves, till they broke on the shore and cooled their weary feet.