en after the
question had been asked and happily answered, neither could speak for joy;
and because of the silence all the sounds of nature outside became almost
painfully distinct. Now he remembers how he heard in that room the sound
of the wind in far-away trees, the singing of a bird--he also remembers
all the colours and the lights of the day. But it was very, very long ago,
and she is dead. Still, the memory is so clear and bright in his heart
that it is as if time had stood still, or as if she had come back from the
grave. Only one thing assures him that it is but a memory--he is alone.

Returning now to the subject of love's illusion in itself, let me remind
you that the illusion does not always pass away--not at all. It passes
away in every case of happy union, when it has become no longer necessary
to the great purposes of nature. But in case of disappointment, loss,
failure to win the maiden desired, it often happens that the ideal image
never fades away, but persistently haunts the mind through life, and is
capable thus of making even the most successful life unhappy. Sometimes
the result of such disappointment may be to change all a man's ideas about
the world, about life, about religion; and everything remains darkened for
him. Many a young person disappointed in love begins to lose religious
feeling from that moment, for it seems to him, simply because he happens
to be unfortunate, that the universe is all wrong. On the other hand the
successful lover thinks that the universe is all right; he utters his
thanks to the gods, and feels his faith in religion and human nature
greater than before. I do not at this moment remember any striking English
poem illustrating this fact; but there is a pretty little poem in French
by Victor Hugo showing well the relation between successful love and
religious feeling in simple minds. Here is an English translation of it.
The subject is simply a walk at night, the girl-bride leaning upon the arm
of her husband; and his memory of the evening is thus expressed:

The trembling arm I pressed
Fondly; our thoughts confessed
Love's conquest tender;
God filled the vast sweet night,
Love filled our hearts; the light
Of stars made splendour.

Even as we walked and dreamed,
'Twixt heaven and earth, it seemed
Our souls were speaking;
The stars looked on thy face;
Thine eyes through violet space
The stars were seeking.

And from the astral ligh