om the earliest days of that consummation of which
Isaiah was afterwards to sing and St. Paul to echo the song, when nature
herself would come to the perfect reconciliation for which she had been
groaning and travailing through all the years.

The second part of the story tells of the tragedy of love. Such a man as
Orpheus, if he be fortunate in his love, will love wonderfully, and
Eurydice is his worthy bride. Dying, bitten by a snake in the grass as
she flees from danger, she descends to Hades. But the surpassing love of
the sweet singer dares to enter that august shadow, not to drink the
Waters of Lethe only and to forget, but also to drink the waters of
Eunoe and to remember. His music charms the dead, and those who have the
power of death. Even the hard-hearted monarch of hell is moved for
Orpheus, who

"Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And made hell grant what love did seek."

But the rescue has one condition. He must restrain himself, must not
look upon the face of his beloved though he bears her in his arms, until
they have passed the region of the shadow of death, and may see one
another in the sunlight of the bright earth again. The many versions of
the tragic disobedience to this condition bear eloquent testimony, not
certainly to any changing phase of the sky, but to the manifold aspects
of human life. According to some accounts, it was the rashness of
Orpheus that did the evil--love's impatience, that could not wait the
fitting time, and, snatching prematurely that which was its due,
sacrificed all. According to other accounts, it was Eurydice who tempted
Orpheus, her love and pain having grown too hungry and blind. However
that may be, the error was fatal, and on the very eve of victory all was
lost. It was lost, not by any snatching back in which strong hands of
hell tore his beloved from the man's grasp. Within his arms the form of
Eurydice faded away, and as he clutched at her his fingers closed upon
the empty air. That, too, is a law deep in the nature of things. It is
by no arbitrary decree that self-restraint has been imposed on love. In
this, as in all other things, a man must consent to lose his life in
order to find it; and those who will not accept the conditions, will be
visited by no melodramatic or violent catastrophe. Love which has broken
law will simply fade away and vanish.

The third part of the story is no less interesting and significant.
Maddened with this second loss,