"Oh, Seraphita, be my star! stay where you can ever bless me with that

clear light!"
As he spoke, he stretched forth his hand to take that of the young

girl, but she withdrew it, neither disdainfully nor in anger. Wilfrid
rose abruptly and walked to the window that she might not see the

tears that rose to his eyes.
"Why do you weep?" she said. "You are not a child, Wilfrid. Come back

to me. I wish it. You are annoyed if I show just displeasure. You see
that I am fatigued and ill, yet you force me to think and speak, and

listen to persuasions and ideas that weary me. If you had any real
perception of my nature, you would have made some music, you would

have lulled my feelings--but no, you love me for yourself and not for
myself."

The storm which convulsed the young man's heart calmed down at these
words. He slowly approached her, letting his eyes take in the

seductive creature who lay exhausted before him, her head resting in
her hand and her elbow on the couch.

"You think that I do not love you," she resumed. "You are mistaken.
Listen to me, Wilfrid. You are beginning to know much; you have

suffered much. Let me explain your thoughts to you. You wished to take
my hand just now"; she rose to a sitting posture, and her graceful

motions seemed to emit light. "When a young girl allows her hand to be
taken it is as though she made a promise, is it not? and ought she not

to fulfil it? You well know that I cannot be yours. Two sentiments
divide and inspire the love of all the women of the earth. Either they

devote themselves to suffering, degraded, and criminal beings whom
they desire to console, uplift, redeem; or they give themselves to

superior men, sublime and strong, whom they adore and seek to
comprehend, and by whom they are often annihilated. You have been

degraded, though now you are purified by the fires of repentance, and
to-day you are once more noble; but I know myself too feeble to be

your equal, and too religious to bow before any power but that On
High. I may refer thus to your life, my friend, for we are in the

North, among the clouds, where all things are abstractions."
"You stab me, Seraphita, when you speak like this. It wounds me to

hear you apply the dreadful knowledge with which you strip from all
things human the properties that time and space and form have given

them, and consider them mathematically in the abstract, as geometry
treats substances from which it extracts solidity."

"Well, I will respect your wishes, Wilfrid. Let the subject drop. Tell
me what you think of this bearskin rug which my poor David has spread

out."
"It is very handsome."

"Did you ever see me wear this 'doucha greka'?"
She pointed to a pelisse made of cashmere and lined with the skin of

the black fox,--the name she gave it signifying "warm to the soul."
"Do you believe that any sovereign has a fur that can equal it?" she

asked.
"It is worthy of her who wears it."

"And whom you think beautiful?"
"Human words do not apply to her. Heart to heart is the only language

I can use."
"Wilfrid, you are kind to soothe my griefs with such sweet words--

which you have said to others."
"Farewell!"

"Stay. I love both you and Minna, believe me. To me you two are as one
being. United thus you can be my brother or, if you will, my sister.

Marry her; let me see you both happy before I leave this world of
trial and of pain. My God! the simplest of women obtain what they ask

of a lover; they whisper 'Hush!' and he is silent; 'Die' and he dies;
'Love me afar' and he stays at a distance, like courtiers before a

king! All I desire is to see you happy, and you refuse me! Am I then
powerless?--Wilfrid, listen, come nearer to me. Yes, I should grieve

to see you marry Minna but--when I am here no longer, then--promise me
to marry her; heaven destined you for each other."

"I listen to you with fascination, Seraphita. Your words are
incomprehensible, but they charm me. What is it you mean to say?"

"You are right; I forget to be foolish,--to be the poor creature whose
weaknesses gratify you. I torment you, Wilfrid. You came to these

Northern lands for rest, you, worn-out by the impetuous struggle of
genius unrecognized, you, weary with the patient toils of science,

you, who well-nigh dyed your hands in crime and wore the fetters of
human justice--"

Wilfrid dropped speechless on the carpet. Seraphita breathed softly on
his forehead, and in a moment he fell asleep at her feet.

"Sleep! rest!" she said, rising.
She passed her hands over Wilfrid's brow; then the following sentences

escaped her lips, one by one,--all different in tone and accent, but
all melodious, full of a Goodness that seemed to emanate from her head

in vaporous waves, like the gleams the goddess chastely lays upon
Endymion sleeping.

"I cannot show myself such as I am to thee, dear Wilfrid,--to thee who
art strong.

"The hour is come; the hour when the effulgent lights of the future
cast their reflections backward on the soul; the hour when the soul

awakes into freedom.
"Now am I permitted to tell thee how I love thee. Dost thou not see

the nature of my love, a love without self-interest; a sentiment full
of thee, thee only; a love which follows thee into the future to light

that future for thee--for it is the one True Light. Canst thou now
conceive with what ardor I would have thee leave this life which

weighs thee down, and behold thee nearer than thou art to that world
where Love is never-failing? Can it be aught but suffering to love for

one life only? Hast thou not felt a thirst for the eternal love? Dost
thou not feel the bliss to which a creature rises when, with twin-

soul, it loves the Being who betrays not love, Him before whom we
kneel in adoration?

"Would I had wings to cover thee, Wilfrid; power to give thee strength
to enter now into that world where all the purest joys of purest

earthly attachments are but shadows in the Light that shines,
unceasing, to illumine and rejoice all hearts.

"Forgive a friendly soul for showing thee the picture of thy sins, in
the charitable hope of soothing the sharp pangs of thy remorse. Listen

to the pardoning choir; refresh thy soul in the dawn now rising for
thee beyond the night of death. Yes, thy life, thy true life is there!

"May my words now reach thee clothed in the glorious forms of dreams;
may they deck themselves with images glowing and radiant as they hover

round you. Rise, rise, to the height where men can see themselves
distinctly, pressed together though they be like grains of sand upon a

sea-shore. Humanity rolls out like a many-colored ribbon. See the
diverse shades of that flower of the celestial gardens. Behold the

beings who lack intelligence, those who begin to receive it, those who
have passed through trials, those who love, those who follow wisdom

and aspire to the regions of Light!
"Canst thou comprehend, through this thought made visible, the destiny

of humanity?--whence it came, whither to goeth? Continue steadfast in
the Path. Reaching the end of thy journey thou shalt hear the clarions

of omnipotence sounding the cries of victory in chords of which a
single one would shake the earth, but which are lost in the spaces of

a world that hath neither east nor west.
"Canst thou comprehend, my poor beloved Tried-one, that unless the

torpor and the veils of sleep had wrapped thee, such sights would rend
and bear away thy mind as the whirlwinds rend and carry into space the

feeble sails, depriving thee forever of thy reason? Dost thou
understand that the Soul itself, raised to its utmost power can

scarcely endure in dreams the burning communications of the Spirit?
"Speed thy way through the luminousspheres; behold, admire, hasten!

Flying thus thou canst pause or advance without weariness. Like other
men, thou wouldst fain be plunged forever in these spheres of light

and perfume where now thou art, free of thy swooning body, and where
thy thought alone has utterance. Fly! enjoy for a fleeting moment the

wings thou shalt surely win when Love has grown so perfect in thee
that thou hast no senses left; when thy whole being is all mind, all