solemn and intense believer in the GREAT HOPE, did not neglect the
purest and highest of all the fountains of solace.

Often in that quiet room, in that gorgeous mansion, which had been the
scene of all vain or worldly schemes--of flirtations and feastings,
and political meetings and cabinet dinners, and all the bubbles of the
passing wave--often there did these persons, whose position to each
other had been so suddenly and so strangely changed--converse on those
matters--daring and divine--which "make the bridal of the earth and
sky."

"How fortunate am I," said Florence, one day, "that my choice fell on
one who thinks as you do! How your words elevate and exalt me!--yet once
I never dreamt of asking your creed on these questions. It is in
sorrow or sickness that we learn why Faith was given as a soother to
man--Faith, which is Hope with a holier name--hope that knows neither
deceit nor death. Ah, how wisely do you speak of the _philosophy_ of
belief! It is, indeed, the telescope through which the stars grow large
upon our gaze. And to you, Ernest, my beloved--comprehended and known
at last--to you I leave, when I am gone, that monitor--that friend; you
will know yourself what you teach to me. And when you look not on the
heaven alone but in all space--on all the illimitable creation, you will
know that I am there! For the home of a spirit is wherever spreads the
Universal Presence of God. And to what numerous stages of being, what
paths, what duties, what active and glorious tasks in other worlds may
we not be reserved--perhaps to know and share them together, and mount
age after age higher in the scale of being. For surely in heaven there
is no pause or torpor--we do not lie down in calm and unimprovable
repose. Movement and progress will remain the law and condition of
existence. And there will be efforts and duties for us above as there
have been below."

It was in this theory, which Maltravers shared, that the character of
Florence, her overflowing life and activity of thought--her aspirations,
her ambition, were still displayed. It was not so much to the calm and
rest of the grave that she extended her unreluctant gaze, as to the
light and glory of a renewed and progressive existence.

It was while thus they sat, the low voice of Ernest, tranquil yet half
trembling with the emotions he sought to restrain--sometimes sobering,
sometimes yet more elevating, the thoughts of Florence, that Lord
Vargrave was announ