soft and noiseless garb she wore,—­the birds sing, only to recall to me the lute-like sweetness of her voice,—­and at night, when I behold the millions upon millions of stars that are worlds, peopled as they must be with thousands of wonderful living creatures, perhaps as spiritually composed as she, I sometimes find it hard, that out of all the exhaustless types of being that love, serve, and praise God in Heaven, this one fair Spirit,—­only this one angel-maiden should not be spared to help and comfort me!  Yes!—­I am selfish to the heart’s core, my friend!”—­and his eyes darkened with a vague wistfulness and trouble,—­“Moreover, I have weakly striven to excuse my selfishness to my own conscience thus:—­I have thought that if she were vouchsafed to me for the remainder of my days, I might then indeed do lasting good, and leave lasting consolation to the world,—­such work might be performed as would stir the most callous souls to life and energy and aspiration,—­with her sweet Presence near me, visibly close and constant, there is no task so difficult that I would not essay and conquer in, for her sake, her service, her greater glory!  But alone!”—­and he gave a slight, hopeless gesture—­“Nay,—­Christ knows I will do the utmost best I can, but the solitary ways of life are hard!”

Heliobas regarded him fixedly.

“You seem to be alone”—­he said presently, after a pause,—­“but truly you are not so.  You think you are set apart to do your work in solitude,—­nevertheless, she whom you love may be near you even while you speak!  Still I understand what you mean,—­you long to see her again,—­to realize her tangible form and presence,—­well! —­this cannot be until you pass from this earth and adopt her nature, . . unless,—­unless she descends hither, and adopts yours!”

The last words were uttered slowly and impressively, and Alwyn’s countenance brightened with a sudden irresistible rapture.

“That would be impossible!” he said, but his voice trembled, and there was more interrogativeness than assertion in his tone.

“Impossible in most cases,—­yes”—­agreed Heliobas—­“but in your specially chosen and privileged estate, I cannot positively say that such a thing might not be.”

For one moment a strange, eager brilliancy shone in Alwyn’s eyes, —­the next, he set his lips hard, and made a firm gesture of denial.

“Do not tempt me, good Heliobas,” he said, with a faint smile—­ “Or, rather, do not let me tempt myself!  I bear in constant mind what she, my Edris, told me when she left me,—­that we should not meet again till after death, unless the longing of my love compelled. Now, if it be true, as I have often thought, that I could compel,—­by what right dare I use such power, if power I have upon her?  She loves me,—­I love her,—­and by the force of love, such love as ours, . . who knows!—­I might perchance persuade her to adopt a while this mean, uneasy vesture of mere mortal life,—­and the very innate perception that I might do so, is the sharpest trial I have to endure.  Because if I would thoroughly conquer myself, I must resist this feeling;—­nay, I will resist it,—­for let it cost me what it may, I have sworn that the selfishness of my own personal desire shall never cross or cloud the radiance of her perfect happiness!”