Chapter 18

"Pygmalion got his Galathea," said Alfred. "These words were in the bridal song. I certainly did fall in love with the beautiful statue that became imbued with life in my arms. But the kindred soul, which Heaven sends us, one of those angels who can feel with us, think with us, raise us when we are sinking, I have now found and won. You have come, Sophie, not as a beautiful form, fascinating the eye, but prettier, more pleasing than was necessary. You excel in the main point. You have come and taught the sculptor that his work is but clay--dust; only a copy of the outer shell of the kernel we ought to seek. Poor Kala! her earthly life was but like a short journey. Yonder above, where those who sympathise shall be gathered together, she and I will probably be almost strangers."

"That is not a kind speech," said Sophie; "it is not a Christian one. Up yonder, where 'they neither marry nor are given in marriage,' but, as you say, where spirits shall meet in sympathy--there, where all that is beautiful shall unfold and improve, her soul may perhaps appear so glorious in its excellence that it may far outshine mine and yours. You may then again exclaim, as you did in the first excitement of your earthly admiration, 'Charming--charming!'"

THE END.

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