Oh no, not my brother," said she.

"_Not_ her brother--a sharp pang of pain shot through me--I was
getting dreadfully jealous--I looked all manner of curiosity and all
manner of questions; she took pity on me and said--a smile still
lurking in the corner of her eye--

"He is no more nor less than the intended future husband of the one
you see before you."

"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, but--you take me by
surprise--I regret--but really I do not feel that it can be so."

"And why not?"

"Truly, why not!"

"He is very handsome."

"That is as one thinks."

"And very accomplished."

"In flattery, most like."

"And a most profound scholar."

"In the art of making love, it would seem."

"But I do not love him."

"Not love him!"

"No, nor never can."

"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry him?"

"You may well ask; why indeed?"

"You seemed very friendly with him the day I saw you together, and
happier than I could have wished you."

"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. It has only been decided
upon a few days."

"And now?"

"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should meet again. I
never can love him, though I greatly esteem him, and--"

"_Esteem!_"

"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without esteem?"

"What is esteem without love?"

"Very true. It was not my own doing, although I reluctantly gave my
consent. If I can with honor release myself from this unfortunate
engagement--I have thought more and more every day since, that love,
true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction the union of two
beings--but why should I talk in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot
feel, however that you are a stranger; we have surely met before in
some other state of being. I am a firm believer in the beautiful faith
of the transmigration of souls--of pre-existence. What is it that
brings two congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in more
perfect harmony than whole years could effect among ordinary
acquaintances?"

"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it is mysterious. We can
call it elective affinity, and can talk very learnedly upon the
singular attraction of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as
souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, and in the end be as
far from the real cause as we were before the Solomonic experiments
were made. The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point--

"I do not like yo