slowly, "you told me that every soul
which has not found a kindred soul on earth is destined 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 husband imagined 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 happiness he will
doubtless find, in due measure to his capacity for being active and
happy."

She interrupted, almost angrily: "He will never be happy without me."

"Do not be too sure of that," said the Spirit.

She took no notice of this, and the Spirit continued: "He will not
understand you here any better than he did on earth."

"No matter," she said; "I shall be the only sufferer, for he always
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 than that."

"But you said just now," said the Spirit, "that you did not love him."

"True," she answered, simply; "but don't you understand that I shouldn't
feel at home without him? It is all very well for a week or two--but for
eternity! After all, I never minded the creaking of his boots, except
when my head ached, and I don't suppose it will ache HERE; and he
was always so sorry when he had slammed the door, only he never COULD
remember not to. Besides, no one else would know how to look after him,
he is so helpless. His inkstand would never be filled, and he would
always be out of stamps and visiting-cards. He would never remember to
have his umbrella re-covered, or to ask the price of anything before he
bought it. Why, he wouldn't even know what novels to read. I always had
to choose the kind he liked, with a murder or a forgery and a successful
detective."

She turned abruptly to her kindred soul, who stood listening with a mien
of wonder and dismay.

"Don't you see," she said, "that I can't possibly go with you?"

"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 here first HE would have
w