"How do those worlds hang in space, and travel forever, and never run
into each other?"
"They are sustained, and they live through love.... Yes, through love,"
he repeated, seeing the curiosity in his wife's eyes. "Love is the law
that rules the whole creation: the sublime law that unites thy heart to
mine is the same that unites all the beings of the universe, and yet
keeps them distinct. We are one in God, in the Creator of all things,
but we still enjoy the beautiful privilege of individuality. This great
privilege, however, is at the same time our great imperfection,
Maximina. Through it we are separated from God. To live eternally united
to Him, to sleep in His bosom as the child in its mother's lap, is the
constant aspiration of humanity. The man who most keenly and imperiously
feels this necessity is the best and most righteous. What is the meaning
of self-abnegation and sacrifice? Can it be anything else than the
expression of that secret voice which has its seat in our hearts, and
tells us that to love one's self is to love the finite, the imperfect,
the ephemeral, and to love others is to be united by anticipation with
the Eternal. Alas for the man who does not listen to the call of this
voice! Alas for him who shuts his ears to the breathings of his soul,
and runs in hot haste after transitory things! Such a man will always be
a miserable slave of time and necessity...."
Miguel grew eloquent as he went on speaking. Maximina listened to him
with ecstatic eyes. She did not absolutely comprehend his words, but she
saw clearly that all that proceeded from her husband's lips was noble
and lofty and religious, and that was sufficient for her to be in accord
with him.
He still went on speaking. At last he suddenly stopped. Both stood in
silence, gazing into the immensity of the heavens. A solemn and pure
emotion had come over them. In rapt contemplation they listened to the
mysterious harmonies of their souls, which, without the aid of speech,
by a kind of magnetic power, vibrated from one heart to the other. After
a while Maximina said in a whisper:--
"Miguel, would you not like to repeat a Pater Noster?"
"Yes," he replied, tenderly pressing her hand.
The young wife said the Pater Noster with true fervor. Her husband
repeated it with equal earnestness.
Never in his life, either before or after, did our hero feel himself
nearer God than at that moment.
The night was advancing. The clock in the study struck its twelve
silvery notes. They shut the window, and lighted the lamps to retire.
* * * * *