eemed
to become my every hope. Ambition, love, aspiration, and passion surged
through that grand symphony. It was heard and understood by the soul, as
other music ministers to the ear, and as I eagerly listened I was
sensible of a yearning for a love--a love that was soon forgotten, and I
knew it to be mine. In the wonders of this new world I had forgotten
the love that, while on Earth, I had been ready to risk my life for, and
now it was the eleventh hour, and who could say whether I should ever
return to this paradise?

Seeing a little rustic arbor, and being overcome with the excess of
emotion and beauty, I turned my steps thither to rest and think.
Situated in a shaded corner of the building, the interior of the arbor
was almost in darkness, and I felt that here I would be alone and
unobserved. Every instant I grew more sad at heart over the time which I
now felt had been wasted, and as the melody died away, my head sank on
my arms, as I rested them upon the table before me. My Earth-tuned soul
seemed still to linger under the spell of the enchanted music.

I had remained thus but a few moments when I became conscious of a hand
softly laid upon my shoulder, and a voice, as sweet and gentle as the
melody that had just died away, murmured, "Almos, poor Almos!"

The touch had a healing in it and was as gentle as the fall of snow.
Raising my head I started up, giving utterance to the name that
instinctively came to my lips--"Zarlah!" It was as if another man had
spoken the name while I stood entranced with the small soft hand held a
prisoner in both mine, gazing down upon the beautiful being whose image
I had so often seen pictured in my mind. It was Zarlah!

I knew, now, that this beauteous image had not been an hallucination,
and by what miracle it had all happened I cared not. Enough that this
beautiful, radiant woman actually existed, and in one quick bound of the
heart, I realized my all-consuming, deathless love for her.

What I might have indiscreetly said in the great emotions of those first
moments, I know not, but before I could give utterance to further words,
Almos' calm demeanor had asserted itself, and in a voice that gave no
evidence of how I was torn within, I said:

"How is it, Zarlah, that you find time from your studies to linger
here?"

"My studies have brought me here," she answered, gently withdrawing her
hand and rising as if to go. Then quickly lifting her shining eyes to
mine, in a playf