"
"No," said Howard, "I can't believe that! I can't believe in any
life here or hereafter apart from Maud. It is strange that I should
be the sentimentalist now, and you the stern sceptic. The thought
to me is infinitely dreary--even atrocious."
"I am not surprised," said Mrs. Graves, "but that's the last
sacrifice. That is what losing oneself means; to believe in love
itself, and not in the particular souls we love; to believe in
beauty, not in beautiful things. I have learned that! I do not say
it in any complacency or superiority--you must believe me; but it
is the last and hardest thing that I have learned. I do not say
that it does not hurt--one suffers terribly in losing one's dear
self, in parting from other selves that are even more dear. But
would one send away the souls one loves best into a loveless
paradise? Can one bear to think of them as hankering for oneself,
and lost in regret? No, not for a moment! They pass on to new life
and love; we cannot ourselves always do it in this life--the flesh
is weak and dear; and age passes over us, and takes away the close
embrace and the sweet desire. But it is the awakening of the soul
to love that matters; and it has been to me one of the sweetest
experiences of my life to see you and Maud awaken to love. But you
will not stay there--nothing is ultimate, not the dearest and
largest relations of life. One climbs from selfishness to liking,
and from liking to passion, and from passion to love itself.
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