“Come， O my soul’s soul，” he passionately implored； “whydelay a moment？ Surely you feel， as I do， that eternity itselfis too short to hold such bliss as ours. It seems to me that Ican see our home already. Have I not always seem it in mydreams？ It is white， love， is it not， with polished columns， anda sculptured cornice against the blue？ Groves of laurel andoleander and thickets of roses surround it； but from the terracewhere we walk at sunset， the eye looks out over woodlandsand cool meadows where， deep-bowered under ancient boughs，a stream goes delicately toward the river. Indoors our favoritepictures hang upon the walls and the rooms are lined withbooks. Think， dear， at last we shall have time to read them all.
With which shall we begin？ Come， help me to choose. Shall itbe ‘Faust’ or the ‘vita Nuova，’ the ‘tempest’ or ‘Les Capricesde Marianne，’ or the thirty-first canto of the ‘Paradise，’ or‘Epipsychidion’ or ‘Lycidas’？ Tell me， dear， which one？”
As he spoke he saw the answer trembling joyously uponher lips； but it died in the ensuing silence， and she stoodmotionless， resisting the persuasion of his hand.
“What is it？” he entreated.
“Wait a moment，” she said， with a strange hesitation in hervoice. “Tell me first， are you quite sure of yourself？ Is there noone on earth whom you sometimes remember？”
“Not since I have seen you，” he replied； for， being a man， hehad indeed forgotten.
Still she stood motionless， and he saw that the shadowdeepened on her soul.
“Surely， love，” he rebuked her， “it was not that whichtroubled you？ For my part I have walked through Lethe. Thepast has melted like a cloud before the moon. I never liveduntil I saw you.”
She made no answer to his pleadings， but at length， rousingherself with a visible effort， she turned away from him andmoved toward the Spirit of Life， who still stood near thethreshold.
“I want to ask you a question，” she said， in a troubled voice.
“Ask，” said the Spirit.
“A little while ago，” she began， slowly， “you told me thatevery soul which has not found a kindred soul on earth isdestined to find one here.”
“And have you not found one？” asked the Spirit.
“Yes； but will it be so with my husband’s soul also？”
“No，” answered the Spirit of Life， “for your husbandimagined that he had found his soul’s mate on earth in you；and for such delusions eternity itself contains no cure.”
She gave a little cry. Was it of disappointment or triumph？
“Then—then what will happen to him when he comes here？”
“That I cannot tell you. Some field of activity and happinesshe will doubtless find， in due measure to his capacity for beingactive and happy.”
She interrupted， almost angrily： “He will never be happywithout me.”
“Do not be too sure of that，” said the Spirit.
She took no notice of this， and the Spirit continued： “He willnot understand you here any better than he did on earth.”
“No matter，” she said； “I shall be the only sufferer， for healways thought that he understood me.”
“His boots will creak just as much as ever—”
“No matter.”
“And he will slam the door—”
“Very likely.”
“And continue to read railway novels—”
She interposed， impatiently： “Many men do worse thanthat.”
“But you said just now，” said the Spirit， “that you did notlove him.”
“True，” she answered， simply； “but don’t you understandthat I shouldn’t feel at home without him？ It is all very well fora week or two—but for eternity！ After all， I never minded thecreaking of his boots， except when my head ached， and I don’tsuppose it will ache HERE； and he was always so sorry whenhe had slammed the door， only he never COULD remembernot to. Besides， no one else would know how to look after him，he is so helpless. His inkstand would never be filled， and hewould always be out of stamps and visiting-cards. He wouldnever remember to have his umbrella re-covered， or to ask theprice of anything before he bought it. Why， he wouldn’t evenknow what novels to read. I always had to choose the kind heliked， with a murder or a forgery and a successful detective.”
She turned abruptly to her kindred soul， who stood listeningwith a mien of wonder and dismay.
“Don’t you see，” she said， “that I can’t possibly go withyou？”
“But what do you intend to do？” asked the Spirit of Life.
“What do I intend to do？” she returned， indignantly. “Why，I mean to wait for my husband， of course. If he had come herefirst HE would have waited for me for years and years； andit would break his heart not to find me here when he comes.”
She pointed with a contemptuous gesture to the magic visionof hill and vale sloping away to the translucent mountains. “Hewouldn’t give a fig for all that，” she said， “if he didn’t find mehere.”
“But consider，” warned the Spirit， “that you are now choosingfor eternity. It is a solemn moment.”
“Choosing！” she said， with a half-sad smile. “Do you stillkeep up here that old fiction about choosing？ I should havethought that YOU knew better than that. How can I helpmyself？ He will expect to find me here when he comes， and hewould never believe you if you told him that I had gone awaywith someone else—never， never.”
“So be it，” said the Spirit. “Here， as on earth， each one mustdecide for himself.”
She turned to her kindred soul and looked at him gently，almost wistfully. “I am sorry，” she said. “I should have likedto talk with you again； but you will understand， I know， and Idare say you will find someone else a great deal cleverer—”
And without pausing to hear his answer she waved him aswift farewell and turned back toward the threshold.
“Will my husband come soon？” she asked the Spirit of Life.
“That you are not destined to know，” the Spirit replied.
“No matter，” she said， cheerfully； “I have all eternity to waitin.”
And still seated alone on the threshold， she listens for thecreaking of his boots.