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32X

Brighter Spheres.

SPIRITUS.

Dictated through the medium ship of

ANNIE F. S.

With an Introdudiofi by E. J. C.

'* There is no death ! What seems so is transition.
This life of mortal b eath
Is but a suburb of the life elysian,
Whose portal we call death."

Longfellow.

MONTREAL :

JOHN LOVELL & SON.
1890.

7" ■'■

O 6' 3 '5 5^

2130

P \ R \ T' U '^

Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the
year one thousand eight hundred and ninety, by Ernest
John Craigie, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture.

THE AUTHOR'S DECLARATION.

To WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: I, Spiiitiis, known
throughout this work as Arthur Rogers, do solemnly
assert that I dictated it ; and that all contained
herein is the true account of my life, with its sins,
its sorrows, its struggles and final ending.

My object in giving this book to the world is
referred to in the beginning of Chapter II. ; and
again in Chapter XVIII., entitled "My Mission,"
where, also, is described the process, or agency, em-
ployed. Chapter XIX., on " The Use and Abuse of
Spiritualism," touches further upon the method of
its production.

One thing I would have understood. This book
was not written under control, but by direct dictation.
The names are assumed, but the characters and scenes
are real, the facts true ; and to the common Father
of all do I dedicate it.

♦' Not as I will, O Father, but as Thou wilt ; " and
if it please Thee to let the world reject it, help Thy
servants, whose hopes are centred in its success,
to commend it to Thy care, and echo with me these
words :

"thy will be done."

INTRODUCTION.

READER — Believe me or not as you may, this work,
which I trust will prove instructive as well as in-
teresting, was produced in the marvellous manner
described further on. This is a statement, the truth
of which can be supported l)y many well-known i)er-
sons, including professional and business men, who
were invited on various occasions to witness the
progress of the work, and whose names can be fur-
nished should any doubt arise in your mind as to the
possibility of this book being the direct dictation of
an " Invisible Intelligence."

There can be no possibility of imposture on the
part of the Medium, who is without the benefits of a
liberal education. She is an English-Canadian, edu-
cated at the Day schools of Montreal, which she left
at the age of fourteen. During the entire progress of
the work, she followed her daily avocations away
from home ; and it was in the evenings that a friend
and myself, with others, as already mentioned, wit-
nessed her extraordinary gift of mediumship, which
was exhibited in this wise : — She sat by herself at a
table with a small empty box thereon, on which she
no sooner placed her hands than the said box began
to tilt out words and sentences according to the
established Spiritualistic Code, which were taken
down by one of those present, each tilt representing
a letter of the alphabet in its consecutive order — the
Jesuit being this book.

INTRODUCTION.

The Medium is not a " Professional," and never
received any pecuniary consideration for the exhi-
bition of her gift, which was witnessed by myself and
others under the severest tests. I may add, too, that
the sublime soliloquies, and appropriate quotations
from poets of past centuries, with which this book
is interspersed, clearly prove the utter impossibility,
under her surroundings, of fraud on her part, and
that the '* Invisible Intelligence " dictating the work
was outside the Medium ; was moreover possessed
of considerable ability ; and had evidently received a
superior education.

And now a few words as to the inception of this
book ; — The writer of this Introduction has for many
years closely studied the theory and philosophy of
Spiritualism — or Spiritism, which is the more correct
term. He has witnessed, under test conditions,
numerous phenomena connected therewith, and has
arrived at the conclusion that by a magnetic influence,
possessed by certain persons, commonly called Medi-
ums, and under certain conditions, we are enabled
to converse with friends and loved ones who have
gone before into the unseen world.

It was at a seance in the summer of 1889, the
unknown but necessary psychological conditions
proving favorable, and Annie F. S. being the Me-
dium, that the Author of this book announced his
presence under the name of " Friend," and when
asked if he had anything to communicate, replied
in the following words : —

" I want you to write all I tell you — my life, earthly
and immortal. It will be a benefit to all mankind.
You will publish it. It will sell well as coming from
a higher sphere. Half the profits to go to the poor."^

wtm

/ATA' on re 7/0 X.

When asked what title the work should hear, the
reply came. " brighter Spheres." He declined to
give his own name, but gave tliat of " .Spiritus " as a
nom dc plume. It was then and there arranged when
the sittings should take i)lace — which, it may here
be stated, occupied a period of about five months.

The reader's attention is especially drawn to the
object of the work, as expressed in the opening of
the 2nd chapter : — *' As thousands of lives are every
day filled with darkness and sin, knowing nothing of
Eternal Light, it is for them I send fort! this work —
a written testimony^ a wonderful proof ., of glorious
immortality ; may it accomplish that mission for
which it was destined."

In conclusion, it is hoped no one will be deterred
by the words " Medium " and " Spiritism " from read-
ing this book, and that it will be perused in a spirit
of fairness and Christian charity, uninfluenced by
prejudice or bigotry.

Without delaying the reader any longer from the
treat which it is anticipated is awaiting him in the
perusal of the following pages, he is requested to
read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest the following
extracts from two well-known writers on Spiritism,
with which the writer of this Introduction bids adieu
to the reader :

" He who, in regard to terrestrial magnetism, knows
only the little figures of ducks, which with the aid of a
magnet are made to swim about in a basin of water,
would find it difficult to understand that those toy
figures contain the secret of the mechanism of the
universe and of the movements of worlds. He
whose knowledge of Spiritism isconfined to the table
turning, which was the starting point of the modern

INTRODUCTION.

manifestations, is in a similar position ; he regards it
merely as an amusement, a social pastime, and can-
not understand how a phenomenon so simple and
so common, known to antiquity and even to savage
tribes, can be connected with the weightiest questions
of psychology and of human life. For the superficial
observer, what connection can exist between a table
that tilts and the morality and future destiny of the
human race? ]Jut as from the simple poi, which in
boiling raises its lid (a pot, too, which has boiled from
the remotest antiquity), there has issued the potent
motor with whose aid man transports himself through
space and suppresses distance, so be it known to
you, O ye who know naught of Sj)iritism, there has
issued from the table-tilting, wiiich provokes your
disdainful smiles, a new philosophy, that furnishes
the solution of problems which no other has been
able to solve. I appeal to all honest adversaries of
Spiritism, and I adjure them to say whether they
have taken the trouble to study wh;it they criticize —
reminding them that criticism is necessarily of no
value unless the critic knows what he is talking
about. Assuredly, if we had presented this philoso-
phy as being the product of a human brain, it would
have met with less disdain, and would have had the
honor of being examined by those v ' ^ profess to be
the leaders of opinion ; but it claims to be derived
from spirits : ' What an absurdity ! ' exclaim its adver-
saries. But put aside all thought of the origin of
this book ; suppose it to be the work of a man, and
say in truth and honesty whether, after having care-
fully read it, you find in it anything to laugh at or
ridicule ?

INTRODUCTION.

" Strange to say, some of those wlio are most incre-
dulous in regard to Spiritism djny the possibility of
its phenomena in the name of religion, of whicli they
often know as little as they do of Spiritism. They
do not reflect that, denying without restriction the
possibility of the * marvellous ' and the * super-
human,' they deny religion, for is not religion found-
ed on revelation and miracles? and what is revela-
tion, if not extra-human communications? All the
sacred writers, from Moses downwards, have spoken
of this order of communications,

" Spiritism is strong, because its bases are those of
religion itself, viz. : God, the soul, ^e rewards and
punishments of the future: because u shows those
rewards and punishments to be 'he fiatitral '•fsults
of ^he earthly life. In ancient tunes it wu:; .he object
oi mysterious studies carefully hiddei. from the vul-
gar and illiterate ; at the present day ii has no secrets,
but speaks clearly, without ambiguity, mysticisms or
allegories. The time having come for making known
the truth, its language is such as all may comprehend ;
it is not the work of any man ; no one can claim to
have created it, for it is as old as creation itself; it
is to be found everywhere and in all religions.

" * Do Spirits,' it is sometimes asked, * teach us
anything new in the way of morality, anything supe-
rior to what has been taught by Christ?' ' If the
moral code of Spiritism be no other than that of the
Gospel, what is the use of it ? ' This mode of reason-
ing is singularly like that of the Caliph of Omar, in
speaking of the Library of Alexandria : * If,' said he,
* it contains only what is found in the Koran, it is
useless, and in that cas? must be burned ; if it con-

INTRODUCTION.

tains anything that is not found in the Koran, it is
bad, and in that case also it must be burned.'

" No ; the mc ality of Spiritism is not different from
that of Jesus ; but we have to ask in our turn,
whether before Christ men had not the law given by
God to Moses ? Is not the doctrine of Christ to be
found in the Decalogue ? Will it therefore be con-
tended that the moral teaching of Christ is useless ?
We ask still further of those who deny the utility of
Spiritism, why it is that the moral teachings of
Christ are so little practised, and why it is that
those who rightly proclaim their sublimity are the
first to violate the first of His laws, viz : that of
'Universal Charity?' " — Allan Kardec.

" Will Spiritism die out ? Yes, //"some dread spell
shall change the tides of human life, and turn back
their onward flow. Yes, //"the constitution of human
nature can be altered, so that reason and love shall
abdicate, and man be something else than man. If
the law of miracle can be established, if caprice can
rule the world, Spiritism may die out. //"the voices
of the Immortals can be hushed in eternal silence, or
human ears no longer list thereto, or human love
respond in harmony to their most kindly greetings,
then may, then will it cease to be. When Spiritual-
ism dies, man will die. Philosophy and Science will
be buried in the same grave, and the pall of eternal
night will fall upon the realm of life. The songs of
eternity will cease, its music hushed in eternal ilence.
All suns will cease to shine, and worlds will wander
darkling in the abyss of endless night."— /Vt. "isor
J. S. Loveland,

E. J. C.

Montreal, March. 1890.

134 Peel Street.

CONTENTS.

Chapter I.

Pack

A Scene from my Boyhood 9

Chapter II.
New Trials 15

Chapter III.
Rose 24

Chapter IV.
A Wealthy Heiress 34

Chapter V.
Prospects of a Wedding 44

Chapter VI.
Married Life 5^

Chapter VII.
The Return of a Lost Love 67

Chapter VIII.
Flight 77

Chapter IX.
Retribution 88

I ^'.J__

viii CONTENTS.

Chapter X.

Page
My New Friends loo

Chapter XL
Blighted Hopes m

Chapter XII.
Parted 126

Chapter XIII.
Free at Last 136

Chapter XIV.
The Wages of Sin.- 149

Chapter XV.
Closing Scenes 161

Chapter XVI.
The Spirit World 175

Chapter XVIL
Scenes I Behold 189

Chapter XVIII.
My Mission 200

Chapter XIX.
The Use and Abuse of Spiritualism 209

» - • .

Chapter XX.
The End 217

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

CHAPTER I.

A SCENE FROM MY BOYHOOD.

Many long years have elapsed and fled — sunk
beneath the ocean of time — since my eyes last
rested on the scene I am about to describe.

The old house stands there still — now sombre
and grand ; then it was an ivy-covered home-
stead.

The day on which my story opens was a hot
one in July. High in the heavens the glorious
sun was beaming, casting its rays of golden
light over all the landscape, and on the running
brook till its clear waters sparkled in spontane-
ous gladness.

In the old-fashioned garden various bright-
hued flowers were shedding faint odors on the
summer air, and the droning of the busy bee

mmmm.

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

sounded dreamily in the sunshine. Aged trees
spread their branches towards the placid sky,
while a gentle wind noiselessly stirred their
verdant foliage.

Underneath one of those trees a boy is stand-
ing. He is only in his fifteenth year, but his
well-knit and sturdy frame gives him a look of
early manhood, and his dark, lowering counten-
ance and scowling eyes tell of passions pitiful
to behold in one so young. He is evidently in
a rage. Ever and anon he glances towards a
by-path that skirted near the place where he is
standing.

Some ten minutes passed slowly by, when
another boy came walking along the path. He
was some years younger, tall and slightly built,
with fair girlish features. He gave a ^ow cry of
surprise on seeing the other boy, who bounded
forward and stood before him.

"Why, Arthur!" he exclaimed, "what are
you doing here } Have you been waiting for
me ? "

" Yes," replied the other, in a tone of sup-
pressed rage. " I intend to have it out with
you. I will teach you to call me a coward and
a liar." As he spoke he drew back and struck

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

the other a blow in thq face, which was quickly
returned ; and now the beauty of the scene is
gone, for peace has fled, and in its stead there
reign liigh words, angry blows, and cries of

rage.

O angel of peace, how often does man insult
the presence of thy sanctity ! Thou bright
messenger of God, descending from regions of
untold bliss into the busy haunts of man and
sin, and whether to the hovel of the wretched
or the lofty ancestral halls of the great, to the
cabin of the peasant or the palaces of kings, to
the hearts wearied with the world's conflict or
the soul battling with despair, thou dost take
to them all divine comfort and harmony that tell
of the life beyond !

Backward and forward the boys wrestled,
the younger getting the worst, for the blood
was streaming down his face.

Unperceived by either of them, a lady had
appeared on the scene. She was small and
delicately formed, bearing the unmistakeable
signs of recent illness. Traces of beauty still
lingered in her worn countenance. The once
sparkling eyes were now dull and sunken, and
the luxuriant hair was streaked with silver,

^nT

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

I j.

showing that time, relentless time, had done its
work.

She paused, horror-struck, on seeing the fight.
She called aloud to them in an agony of en-
treaty. She asked them in imploring accents to
stop ; yet they heeded her not — did not seem to
hear her.

But it was now over. One well-directed
blow, which took the younger off his feet, sent
him heavily to the earth, his head coming in
contact with a large rock. He lay motionless,
white and still.

A sharp cry of intense agony from the
woman caused the victor to turn in her direc-
tion. A deathlike pallor had overspread her
features. One hand was clasped convulsively
over her heart. She was gasping as if for
breath. *' Murderer! " she cried, gazing at him
with reproachful eyes. Then in milder accents
she murmured, " O God, have mercy on my
boy ! " A shuddering of the body, a contrac-
tion of the features, a low moan, and all was
still ; the sorrow and pain were all ended, for
she was dead, and nothing remained but the
pale, silent body to mock my anguish, for I,
Arthur Rogers, was that boy, and the woman.

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

ly ii\c^ dead and cold beside me, was my mother.

With breathless haste I hurried to the house,
which was quite near, to summon aid. My
father was away from home, but a Miss Waters,
who was staying at the house, ran, with the
frightened servant, to the spot. The boy, who
was merely stunned, was sent for the nearest
doctor, while I helped to carry the lifeless body
of my mother, which we laid gently on her bed ;
and I bent over her, in vain endeavoring to
restore life to her inanimate form, for I could
not believe that she' was dead. For years she
had been suffering from heart-disease, and, the
week before, her physician had told us that the
least shock or excitement would prove fatal
Arriving at the scene when she did, and wit-
nessing the fall of my comrade, she thought I
had killed him. The thought of her boy a
murderer was more than the weak heart could
bear.

The doctor soon arrived and told us, after a
brief examination, that it was only what he
expected ; and hurried away to his other
patients. Miss Waters went to telegraph for
my father, who was in New York ; and I was
alone with the dead, filled with remorse for the

BRIGHTER SPIHIRES.

IM V.

past and fear for the future. How well I knew
that I had caused her death, and that through
life I had been her greatest care. How often
had 1 brought tears of sorrow to the dear eyes
now closed in death ; and those lips, that had
that morning kissed nie, were now sealed for
eternity, and the familiar voice was luished for
ever — for I knew not that her spirit still
watched over her bov.

O ye Christians, how blessed is the knowledge
that enables you to think of your loved ones as
not dead, but gone before, where, in some
higher, brighter sphere, they wait for you to
join them !

But I knew nothin<j of this. To me the
future held no hope, no great hereafter. How
often, in the drear}- nights that followed, would
I wake from some troubled dream, and fancy
that she stood beside me, her hand laid on my
burning head, while in the darkness the night-
wind seemed to waft her dying words through
my frenzied brain, ** O God, have mercy on my
boy!"

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

CHAPTER II.

NEW TRIALS.

Before passing over the few years that separated
my boyhood from manhood, I would like to
'Tive the reader an insight into my character,
in order that he may judge whether the evil
that surrounded my life was the result of my
early training, or that criminal inheritance, or
natural tendency to sin, so characteristic of
man. ' I would like to portray my life as it really
was. As thousands of lives are every day filled
with darkness and sin, knowing nothing of
eternal light, it is for them I send forth this
^vork — a written testimony— a wonderful proof
of irlorious immortality. ^lay it accomplish
that mission for which it was destined !

Mine was a disposition that loved freedom ;
and I longed for the time when I could throw all
control aside and be my own master. Possessed
of a violent, hasty temper, I was often led into
acts of cruelty and injustice. My father, who

' n

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

was an atheist, had early instilled into my mind
lessons unnatural to youth and opposed to
Christianity. He was a hard, stern man, believ-
ing in neither God nor Devil, and was i^reatly
feared by all the household. He was succe:-sful
in business as a New York merchant, but had
retired from it on his marriage with my mother.

She was an English lady of good birth, a
sincere Christian, and of a timid, clinging nature,
easily governed by a man like my father.

When I was very young, she began to
teach me baby prayers and Bible verses. My
father, entering unexpectedly one day, and hear-
ing me repeating what I had learned, flew into
a rage, and I never forgot the scene that followed ;
it made an impression on my childish mind.
He swore that he was not going to have my
head filled with such nonsense ; it was only fit
for smooth-faced parsons. In vain my mother
pleaded that there was some truth in religion,
and that a God really existed ; he would not
listen ; he said it was all superstition, and that if
she did not stop teaching me such trash, he
would send me away where I would learn somc-
thinc: sensible.

This was sufficient to frighten her into giving

i ^

PRIGirTER SPHERES.

«7

the required promise ; but it was a heavy blow
to her, and, like some pale, delicate flower, she
began to fade and droop in the cold atmosphere
of our uncongenial home.

Some years after this, when I was old enough
to begin my education, my father sent me to
one of his friends in Boston — an atheist like
himself — where a tutor of the same sect was
engaged for me, and I began my studies away
from a mother who alone understood the fail-
ings of her boy. Among other things I was
taught that religion was false, and, as it had
originated in the dark ages, like all superstitions
it would soon die out. Thus I became an un-
believer.

All this helped to break my mother's heart.
Growing to manhood apart from her tender
care, her's was the earnest prayer that daily
rose beyond the eternal heaven in my behalf —
prayers that were not answered till she had slept
long years in her peaceful grave.

With her death new trials awaited me. It was

the day after she died, and I was sitting

alone in the long dining-room, anxiously

waiting my father's arrival. It was a bright

day, full of gladness. Outside the birds sang

BRICIITKR SPIIKRES.

gaily, and all nature seemed rejoicing, contrast-
ing deeply with the gloom and solitude within.
The radiant sunshine strayed through the cur-
tained window and rested in patches of rosy
light on the carpet, and one gentle ray lingered
lovingly on my solitary figure, as if pitying me
in my loneliness.

Those who have experienced a boyish grief
must know how fleeting it is. My first burst
over, I longed to throw off the impression of
gloom, and, in the open air, revel in some boyish
sport, that I might forget my sorrow. Here
everything reminded me of my loss : on the
table the work-basket, with its dainty needle-
work, and the book she had been reading ; and on
the floor her pet dog, lying waiting for the well-
known footsteps that he would never hear again.

The quiet stillness of the room began to
oppress me, and I fell into a train of gloomy
thought. I wondered how my father would
bear the news of my mother's death. Would
he sink beneath a storm of grief? or fly into a
rage with me as being the indirect cause of her
death ? or would he bear it with that stolid in-
difl"erence which I knew was part of his nature ?

My reverie was interrupted by the opening

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

and the dosing of the door, and, turning round,
I saw that Miss Waters had entered. As slic
is to figure in these pages, I owe her a brief de-
scription. To begin with, she had taken a great
dislike to me, which I heartily returned. She
was a haughty-looking creature above the
average lieight, with dark swarthy countenance,
and features that, in spite of their haughty
repose, were rather handson .e. Her chief attrac-
tion, however, lay in the expression of the dark,
flashing eyes. She was magnificently attired in
some bright color that seemed out of place in a
house of mourning. She swept languidly across
the floor, giving the unoffending dog a savage

kick.

"You leave that dog alone," I cried out
sharply, but she took no notice of me ; only a
slight flush of anger overspread her face, which
plainly showed that she \\ as annoyed.

She seated herself in an easy chair near the
window and drew back the curtain.

" I wonder what time your father will arrive,"
i;he asked, after a short silence ; " I hope he will
come soon, for this house needs a master. That
poor, weak creature, your mother, was utterly
incapable of managing a household. Things are
iill upside down."

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

■lii n

t; i

My temper was rising, for I knew that she
lied. My mother was a model housekeeper. I
made no reply but gave the speaker a look of
witherinc^ contempt. She was, however, deter-
mined to aggravate me. Taking up a book off
the table, she began hurriedly to turn over the
pages. Now it happened to be my mother's
Bible.

" Silly thing," she said, with a sneer, "how
could she believe all this stuff? I pity your
father. He must have been unhappy, tied to a
religious maniac who thought more of religion
than of him."

'• You lie," I shouted, springing to my feet in
anger, for the slighting way in which she spoke
of my mother maddened me.

'* You are an insolent wretch," she hissed, " to
speak to a lady in that manner."

" A lady ! " I retorted, scornfully. " Do you
act the part of a lady, sneaking around the house,
fighting with the hired girl, prying into domestic
affairs, and insulting the memory of her whom
you called friend } and understand," I added^
"that, until my father's arrival, I am master
here."

Not trusting myself to say any more, I hurried

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

from the room, followed by the frightened dog,
and the low, mocking laugh of my adversary
reached me as I closed the door. I felt as if I
hated her, and would gladly have crushed her
out of my life.

'• Who is she } " I asked myself. " What gives
her so much authorit)' ? "

I had once heard that her family and my
father's were intimate for years. " But," I thought,
angrily, " that is no reason why she should ' boss '
the whole house."

I spent the remainder of the day in my room,
and had serious thoughts of running away. I
thought if I could go far away, I would win
fame and wealth, for never did human heart
pant more ardently than mine to be distin-
guished. But ahis for the dreams of youth,
never to be realized !

I had just finished counting over my small
stock of money, when some one entered the
room, and, looking up, I was face to face with
my father. One glance at his stern countenance
told mc that I need not expect any pity from
him. If any grief had pressed his heart, it had
left no visible sign. There was no trace of sorrow
in that set, determined face.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

"Well," he said, sternly, "what have you ta
say about all you have done ? "

I was beginning to explain the circumstances
of my mother's death, but he interrupted me
with an impatient gesture.

•* Spare mc all explanations," he cried, " Miss
Waters has told me all ; and, not content with
being the cause of a serious accident, you have
deliberately insulted a lady for whom I have a
sincere regard."

"It seems so," I replied, "since you think
more of what you call an insult than you do of
the death of your wife."

" Silence ! " he shouted, " do not answer me in
that voice. You must apologize to the lady."

" Never," I answered. " I did only what I
would do again were she to speak lightly of my
mother."

He gave me an angry look. " Do you know,
sir," he said, " that I am going away for some
time, and have made arrangements for you to
live under this lady's care during my absence ? "

" Live under her care ! " I repeated ; " no, I
will leave the house first."

" As you will," he replied, indifferently. " You
can go to your aunt in New York and finish

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

your education. Miss Waters will remain here
and look after the house."

"All right," I replied, calmly, though my
heart seemed bursting.

He turned to leave the room. " You will be
ready by the last of the week," he said. Then
without another word he left me.

On the impulse of the moment, I would have
run after him and asked for a little sympathy,
a little love; but, on second reflection, I knew
how useless it would be, and I returned to my
solitary thoughts, all hopes of escape banished,
for I felt that he would watch me.

During the years that followed, in which I
grew to manhood, I often thought that my
father had spoiled my whole life. But I was in
the hands of a higher power than his — yet I
knew it not — a Power that was gradually lead-
ing me on till that time when all things would
be right and I should know the truth.

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

Hi -

CHAPTER III.

ROSE.

It is a dull winter's evening in the city of New
York. A light snowstorm is rising, filling the air
with tiny flakes that flutter against the window-
panes, as if anxious to get in, and then fall softly
to the ground where they are soon trodden out
of sight by the passers-by.

In the interior of a large, well-furnished room,
two persons are seated. The elder, a tall, dark
young man, slightly bronzed, is myself grown
to manhood. My companion is a lady, young
and beautiful. She is a brunette, with a clear,
olive complexion just tinted with a soft bloom.
Her features are small and regular. The eyes,
dark and liquid, are now filled with a bewitchino-
light ; and the shapely head is surmounted by a
mass of dark, wavy hair. She is dressed in the
height of fashion, in some rich material that fits
her well-formed figure to perfection. Costly
diamonds flash from the rings on her finders

1 1

1 i

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

and gleam in the dusky hair. There is a baby-
ish pout on the pretty features, that reminds me
of a spoilt child, and one tiny foot impatiently
taps the carpet.

"It is too bad," she exclaimed, "that I can-
not go to the ball. You are so unreasonably

jealous."

"You are wrong," I said, hotly. " I did not
speak without good reason. Have I not been
patient, lingering by your side night after
-nidit, without a word, a smile, a glance.? and
while others revelled in the enjoyment of your
company, you simply ignored my presence.
We had better part," I added moodily. " My
love and devotion count as nothing. You no
lonc^cr care for me."

A momentary look of fear crossed her features,
which was replaced by a pleading smile as she
rose and came softly towards me.

" You tiresome boy," she said, in a light tone,
^' can you not see that I do not mean it } that
though I amuse myself with others, it is you I
really love } "

" You only say that to please me," I answered.
""If you loved me, you would act dififerently."

She made no reply, but gave me a tender

■ ">

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

nil

glance from the liquid eyes that caused my
anger to melt.

" Why do you torment me so ? " I asked.
"You seem to take a delight in making me
jealous."

"I must live," she cried, with a tragic gesture.
"Life would be ' ery dull without a little admi-
ration, a little excitement. But this evening I
will devote myself to you. Now, let us be
friends."

" My own darling," I cried, with rapture ;
and then followed a scene which all lovers are
familiar with. An hour later, when I lid good-
bye, I had promised to escort her to the ball ;
and I walked home with a heart very light
indeed, for I believed myself desperately in love.
It was that love which most men experience in
a lifetime, and which they look back upon in
after years with about as much emotion as they
would on some childish toy.

Eight years had passed since my mother's
death — years during which I studied a little,
travelled a little, and grew a little more wicked.
I had now entered my twenty-third year, and
the world seemed very bright to me. I had
not a care nor a thought for the future. My

; li

BRIGHTER SPHERES. VJ

father I seldom saw. He had married Miss
Waters ; and, as that amiable lady and I were
not on very good terms, we saw very little of

each other.

They still occupied the old house in the
outskirts of Boston, and I lived in New York
with my aunt, Mrs. Ro<rcrs. She was a good-
natured old lady, and, having no children
of her own, I was over-indulged by her, so
that I did just what I liked. Her husband,
who was my father's brother and very much
resembled him, I stood a little in awe of, but
not enough to prevent me from often stagger-
ino- home under the influence of too much wine.
I had a large income from my father, but I
managed to spend it all, and was frequently in
debt. I was a well-known sport and gambler,
a fair hand at billiards, and the associate of
some of the most questionable characters in
town ; yet in spite of this I had the entree into
good society, and was petted by numerous mam-
mas with marriageable daughters. I had, how-
ever, already found my ideal, not in some well-
known heiress or fashionable belle, but in the
person of a poor actress, Rose Ashton, who had
nothing save her pretty face and ready wit to-

■T

i!::

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

recommend her. I have already described her
to the reader in the beginning of the chapter.
To me she was the impersonation of all womanly
grace and beauty. I had known her about
three months.

The first time I had seen her was on
the stage. I had sauntered into the theatre
with some of my friends to see the play.
It was badly produced, but the acting was good,
and my fancy was attracted by the face and
figure of the leading star. Hearing that one of
my companions knew her, I sought an introduc-
tion, which was granted, and I soon joined the
host of numerous admirers that nightly thronged
around her, and vied with each other in shower-
ing costly gifts on the object of their devotion. At
first I was the favorite. I bought the rarest jewels,
and "stood "the most expensive suppers. Some-
times a richer rival would appear on the scene ;
then I was slighted and thrown aside. I soon
let her know that I was not going to stand this ;
and we had many an angry scene, which always
ended in a compromise from her and some
costly presents from me. News of all this soon
reached my father's ears, and he threatened to
^stop my allowance, but had not done so yet.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

The night of the ball arrived. It was a clear
night, with just a suspicion of frost in the
December air. Rose was in a flutter of excite-
ment. She was looking very lovely in a dress
of soft white silk, relieved by clusters of
crimson roses.

" O woman ! lovely woman ! nature made thee
To temper man ; we had been brutes without you." *

We were late entering the ball room. Dan-
cing had commenced, and many admiring glances
followed Rose, who was undoubtedly the belle.
The scene was lovely to gaze upon. I often
recalled it in after years— the long, brilliantly-
lighted room with its highly polished floor — the
lofty ceiHng almost hidden beneath a profusion
of flowers and rare tropical plants, arranged
with exquisite taste.

The pleasures of life are very short ! Alas
all earthly joys are fleeting! Sometimes we
try to seize them, but they elude our grasp and
float away from us for ever.

That night, or rather early the next morning,
when I returned home, I was surprised to find
my aunt sitting up for me— a thing I had never
known her to do before.

*Otway, Venice Preserved.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

'If I

"What is wrong?" I asked breathlessly, as
she beckoned me into the library.

" Your father ! " she exclaimed, in agitation.
" He has arrived, and is in an awful rage. He
has heard something about you."

"About me!" I echoed. "What can he
mean ? "

" I don't know," she replied. " He accused
me of letting you go to ruin."

" Never mind," I said, soothingly. " You are
not to blame, I will make it all right."

"You don't know what a rage he is in," she
rejoined.

" I don't care," I said, angrily. " I will let
him see that it is no boy he has to deal with.
I am now a man, and can judge for myself."

I soon retired, but not to rest. I had a
troubled dream in which I beheld Rose pursued
-by a demon who had the face of my father, and
I awoke filled with gloomy forebodings. The
first thing after breakfast he sent for me^and we
had a stormy scene. I was steadfast, and vowed
never to part from Rose, and that I intended
to marry her as soon as her engagement at the
theatre was ended.

" You will do no such thing," my father

'(•t

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

roared, as he angrily paced the floor. " If you
disgrace yourself by wedding that creature I
will disown you. You talk about love, but
this is only a boyish fancy. Return home with
me and you will soon forget it."

" It is no boyish fancy," I retorted. " I never
will forget her."

" ' When poverty enters the door, love flies out
at the window,'" he quoted.

I was too angry to make any reply. I felt that
I must see Rose and tell her all that had passed ;
so I seized my hat and hurried from the house.

"She will be true," I murmured to myself.
" Poverty will not change her love."

I found her looking a little pale and tired
from the effects of the night before. She looked
surprised to see me at such an early hour. I
told her all my father had said.

" You see," 1 added, " that he wants to part
us, but I will never give you up."

" You are wrong," she said, with an angry
frown, " I could not live in poverty. You should
not have quarreled with your father."

^' What ! " I cried, in astonishment, " do you
know what that would mean > It would be
separation from you, misery for us both."

BRIG II TER SPHERES.

" And what will be the result if you defy
him ? " she asked. "If you could only exercise
a little common sense, you would see that if you
give in to him now it will be the better for us.
Return home for a while, and, when he sees that
you are steadfast, he will soon give in."

"You never loved me," I said, dejectedly, "or
you would not send me from you."

"It is because I do love you," she rejoined,
"that I do not want to ruin your future. You
would be helpless without money."

"Could I not work as other men do } " I said
gloomily.

She gave an incredulous smile. " What could
you do .-* You would soon tire ; and I want
wealth and position. I do not intend to be an
actress always," she said, musingly. " I always
understood you would be wealthy."

*'But," I pleaded, 'Mt is not my fault. If I
go from you, how am I to live t life will be sa
dull."

"Don't talk such nonsense," she said sharply.
" There is no alternative ; I have made up my
mind never to marry a poor man."

I pleaded with her, reasoned with her, but it
was all in vain ; so we parted, with many assur-

"hi.

liRIGII 7 ER SrHEKES.

ances of faithful love, and promises to write
often.

I was greatly disappointed in Rose, and the
cool way she regarded the matter. I had always
thought of her as something above the common,
but found that she was only a weak, fickle
woman. I told my father that I would return
home with him for a while; and he, apparentl\-
content, made no remark. I left New York with
a sad heart, for I felt as if Rose was lost to me
forever.

During the journey my father told me that
he expected me to marry for position. •' With
your prospects you ought to make a brilliant
marriage," he said. I listened quietly, secretly
determined to marry no other woman but Rose.

ill

BRIG II I 'EK sr/JEKES.

CHAPTER IV.

A WEALTHY HEIRESS.

It!

I FOUND the old house greatly changed by
modern improvements and new faces. I had
loved the old-fashioned things of my childhood,
but the new Mrs. Rogers followed the latest
styles.

It was late when we arrived, and the house
was full of company. I made a hasty toilet and
descended to the drawing-room, resolved to be
as disagreeable as I could. My amiable step-
mother came forward and greeted me with great
cordiality. She seemed determined to ignore
the past> and I thought it was best to fall in with
her mood.

" Why, how you have grown ! " she exclaimed.
" I would not have recognized you. I must
introduce you to my niece. Come here, Maud,"
she cried, "this is Arthur, whom I have already
told you about." There was a slight move-
ment in the back-ground as Maud came forward
— a girlish figure in simple white — and acknow-
ledged my formal bow.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

ged by
I had

ildbood,
e latest

c house
)ilet and
id to be
lie step-
ith great
) ii^nore
1 in with

claimed.

I must
, Maud,"

already
t move-
forward
acknow-

I was mentally contrasting her pale, subdued
beauty, with the rich, glowing loveliness of my
first love. Mrs. Rogers left us together, and her
niece opened the conversation by asking me
some questions about New York society, to
which I briefly replied, and led heron to speak
of herself. I found she was the only child of
Richard Waters — a wealthy Chicago citizen.
Her mother had been dead some years, and
Mrs. Rogers had kindly offered to chaperon
her in society. She then amused me with anec-
dotes of the neighborhood. She was an agree-
able conversationalist, and gifted with a rare
sense of humor; and before the evening was
over, I was laughing heartily at her sharp wit
and merry ways. I asked for music, and listened
entranced while she played the pieces I liked
best and sang my favorite songs. I grew inter-
ested in her, and was ready to declare her a
very nice young lady ; and my father looked
silently on, evidently well pleased that I was,
unconsciously, walking into the trap that was
set for me.

During tlie evening my step-mother brought
Ml her two children — two fine, sturdy boys —
and I fancied that she gave me a malicious

Ff«

II .' . li i il i i r i 1 l | i ||J_Jii

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

glance as I watched them playing around their
father's knee. ** This is the reason," I thoucrht
bitterly, " why he is so anxious forme to marry
well. He wishes to share his own wealth with
those boys; and I, his first-born, would be de-
frauded of my rights ! "

The next morning I rose early and sauntered
around the old place, recalling scenes of my
boyhood. I then wrote a long letter to Rose,
in which I assured her of my faithful love, and
promised never to forget her.

In the anxious days tliat followed I waited
in vain for an answer. None came. I wrote
again and again with the same result. " She
has forgotten me," I thought, bitterly ; " some
wealthier rival has taken my place." Yet I
loved her, blindly, madly ; and, in spite of her
seeming indifference, she was ever in my
thoughts. I wrote to the manager of the theatre
in which she played, and in a few days received
an answer that dashed all my hopes away. She
had left the city, and he could obtain no clue to
her whereabouts. I now believed her false to
me, and, in a fit of jealous rage, devoted myself
more than ever to the fair Maud. I was con-
stantly at her side, and Mrs. Rogers took great

,»A*

id their
thoucrht
D niarrv
:th with
be cle-

untered

of my

D Rose,

)vc, and

waited

I wrote

'' She

" some

Yet I

: of her

in my

; theatre

received

ly. She

3 clue to

false to

I myself

/as con-

Dk great

BRIGIirr^R SPHERES. yj

trouble to throw us in each other's society. She
was always planning some party, or driving ex-
pedition, which kept us in a whirl i f social life;
and as the days passed quickly by, I was sur-
prised to find how well I was enjoying niysef.

One dull, wet morning in the month of
February we were all seated around the break-
fast table, merrily laughing and talking, when a
telegram was handed to Maud. Her face
became deathly in its pallor, and she turned to
her aunt with a low cry.

" What is wrong ? " we all asked, breathlessly.

••My father!" she sobbed. "He is dying!
Oh, I must go to him ! "

"You will have to wait," my father said, con-
sulting his watch. "There is no train for two
hours. Arthur will go with vou ; and if any-
thing happens you can return with him."

"Oh, no," she cried, turning to me with a
faint blush. "I could not think of troublin''-
\\x. Rogers."

"It is no trouble," I replied. " If you will
accept me as your escort I shall deem it an
honor."

She thanked me with a sad smile, and in a
few hours we started on our journey.

'in

MHi

E^SKK

1-M-.W

i' ' ! t

38 BRIGHTER SPHERES.

It took me all my time and attention to cheer
the drooping spirits of my fair companion. We
found the old gentleman sinking fast ; the
doctor gave no hopes. Indeed he seemed only
to be living till his daughter's arrival. I was an
unwilling witness to a sad scene that followed,
for Maud insisted on my entering the room
with her. I saw, in the subdued light of the
sick-room, a feeble sufferer with hollow cheek?
and starinr^ eyes, which plainly told that deat'i
had marivf .im as a victim. Maud kncIl
quietly by the bedside — a gentle figure, half
child, half-woman. " Father," she said, brokenjv
*'I am here."

" My poor child," he said, faintly. " What
is to become of you when I am gone ? "

" Don't," she pleaded. " Don't think of it."

"But I must," he said, feebly. "Alone in
this desolate world, young and wealthy. Wlio
is that there } " he added, turning towards mo.

" It is a friend," Maud replied. " Young
Mr. Rogers ; he has been very kind to me."

"Come here," the dying man said to me;
"draw closer that I may see your face."

I did so, and seemed to feel the searching
gaze of his sharp eyes.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

to cheer
)n. We

ist ; the
led only
I was an
ollovvcd,
he room
t of the
V cheek?
at deat'i:
id knelt
are, half
)roken]v

" What

ik of it."
\lone in
^. Who
ards rne.
" Young
me.

1 to me;

»»

searching

" I knew you as a boy," he went on in the
same feeble voice, "and you have greatly
changed. You are the only one near me
whom I can trust. Will you grant a favor to a
dying man .-* '

" What is it } " I asked, bending over him,
while Maud gave me a grateful glance.

" My child ! " he answered. " I have . a
strange presentiment that sorrow will over-
shadow her young life. I have guarded her
jealously from all care. Will you promise mc,
if she ever needs a friend, to help her?"

" Gladly," I answered. " She shall never
need a friend while I live."

" Thank you," he murmured ; " your father is
to be her sole guardian, and may God deal with
you as you deal with her." His voice seemed
to die away, and he sank into a deep slumber.

I made Maud lie down, promising to call her
if there was any change.

All through the dreary night I kept silent
watch. Once my eyelids closed and I must have
slept, for at daybreak I awoke with a start, and
glanced anxiously towards the bed. All was
still, and, going near, I perceived that death had
silently entered and seized its prey. I roused

^^^^^^nmf^

mmm

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

Maud and told her. She bore it calmly, stand-
ing mute in her sorrow, contemplating the loved
features, so awful in their last repose.

" I cannot realize it," she said to n.e in a
whisper. " Is he really dead ? and am I alone in
the pitiless world ? "

" Not alone," I said, gently ; " you forget your
aunt, my father, and last, but not least, myself"

" That is so different," she replied. '• Have
you never known a longing to be loved, to be
necessary to someone's happiness, or to have
some strong heart to lean upon, someone to
think for you, someone to love you ? Perhaps
men are d."ffc:ont," she went on; "perhaps you
do not mind, as women do. Life seems so
empty to look forward to — no mother's love, no
father's care, not even a gentle sister or manly
brother; I am alone, so utterly alone."

I knew not how to comfort her, yet I felt my
heart drawn to her in her loneliness. For the
moment Rose was forgotten, as 1 bent softly
over my fair companion and whispered gently:
"Let me have a right to protect you from those
gloomy thoughts. Try and forget that you are
alone in the world ; for remember, I promised
your father to take care of you."

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

'S.

"You are very kind," she murmured. "I have
been thinking so much, my head aches. Death
is so awful, so mysterious ; the grave, so cold
and silent. What is it, I wonder, that lies be-
yond ? Is he dead forever ? Is he merely
nothing? or do you believe in another life in
which he still exists ? "

Some lines I had read, written by Blair,
flashed through my brain involuntarily —

**Tell us, ye dead ! Will none of you, in pity
To those you left behind, disclose the secret ?
O ! that some courteous ghost would blal) it out.
What 'tis you are, and we nni t shortly be 1

* * • Well —'tis no matter ;

A very little time will clear up all,
And make us learned as yuu are, and as close." *

" No," I said aloud, " there is no other life. I
cannot believe in a future state. But do not
dwell on such things. We know that he is free
from suffering."

She gave a low shudder — " I don't like to think
of him as dead forever. He was so good — my
poor father — and he believed in another exist-
ence. I like to picture him in the enjoyment of
it. And," she went on, in a plaintive voice, " I
was not brought up like other childi en. I never

* lilair — The Grave.

,JfI

i 'I \

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

had a loving voice to speak to me of God and
heaven."

•• Don't talk like that," I said, sharply ; " there
is nothing in all that nonsense. Religion has
no foundation. Come downstairs, away from
this chamber of death, and you will feel better."

*' Oh, no," she replied, " I must stay with him.
I feel as if he knew that I was here. Something
seems to whisper in my heart that he still exists.
It is the first time that I have come in contact
with death, and it oppresses me. Can you not
feel its mysterious power ? "

" It is natural," I replied ; " everyone must
die; it is the end of all mankind. To the young
and happy it is full of terror, and I think it
would be a tyrant to the rich and self-indulgent ;
but to the wretched and poor it has no terror."

" I know that," she answered, "for it brings
them peace. But what comes afterwards } Can
you tell me .'' "

" Nothing," I replied. " Have I not already
told you my belief .-* There is no other life:
there is no God."

"Go," she cried, turning from me, "I would
rather be alone, as I must henceforth be in life>
with none to pity me, none to comfort me."

' I

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

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I saw that she was growing hysterical, and I
went downstairs and sought the house-keeper
— a kind, motherly soul — and sent her up with
some refreshment. She returned in a short time
and told me that she had " coaxed Miss Maud to
her room," and that her sorrow had been forgotten
in a refreshing slumber.

The next few days I was kept very busy, as
I had to make all arrangements for the funeral.
The day after it took place I advertised the
house to let, and returned home, accompanied
by Maud — a sad little figure in sombre garments.
Yet )rrow had added to her beauty, and given
her pensive loveliness that was pleasing to the
eyr and when at times the image of Rose came
before me, I would contrast her as some glow-
ing flower, of which her name was a type, with
Maud, who reminded me of a pale, drooping lily.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

CHAPTER V.

PROSPECTS OF A WEDDING,

The long winter months passed away into
spring, and I now began to tire of the life I
was leading at home, and thought with regret
of the gay time I had had in New York. I
longed for the excitement of the gaming table,
the social dinners at the club, the brilliant
receptions in society, and all that had made life
a pleasure. My stepmother, too, had cast aside
her mask. All the amiable smiles that had at
first greeted me were gone, and she was once
more the tyrant I had always known her. She
sought many ways to annoy me, and was the
cause of many quarrels between me and my
father, who seemed to think her the model of
all things good.

One stormy, wet afternoon, I made up my
mind to return to New York. I was in a fit of
angry impatience, and sought my father in the
library. He was writing at his desk, and his
"Wife sat reading near the window. They both

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

gave mc a look of surprise, as I announced
my intention of returning to New York.

" Please }'ourself," my father said coldly, " but
what of Maud ? "

*' Main' ! " I echoed blankly. " Why, what
has she got to do with it ? "

" You act the innocent part well," sneered
Mrs. Rogers.

'* I don't know what you mean," I retorted
sharply.

" Then you must be a bigger scamp than I
took you for," she answered, " and quite devoid
of all honor."

" Do you think," my father went on in the
same cold tone, "that, after striving to gain a
woman's love and affection, you can throw it
aside like a worthless weed ? I am surprised at
you."

" But," I said hotly, " I have never thought of
such a thing. You know well my heart was
given to another before I ever saw Maud, and
I only regard her as a friend, or sister."
■ Mrs. Rogers gave vent to a low scornful
laugh. " Does a man loiter in the mooii.^ht,
whispering sweet nothings to Jtis sisteVy seeking
her company at all times, and paying every

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

lover-like attention to her ? " she asked, mock-
ingly.

1 gave her a quiet look of contempt, and
turned to my father. " Why don't you speak
out," I said, "and tell me at once that you wish
me to marry Maud because she is rich ? "

"Well," he said, uneasily, "you have made
it an understood thing ; it is your own fault ;
the whole neighborhood looks upon you as
engaged, and you are in duty bound to marry
this girl ; or, he added, you are no son of mine."

"But Maud herself," I protested; "she may
object. I don't see what happiness can result
from such a marriage. I have been blind not
to foresee this. I suppose it was all your
scheme," I added, confronting Mrs. Rogers.

*' Indeed ! " she sneered, "how ungrateful you
are. One would think you were asked to
commit some crime, instead of marrying a
young and pretty girl."

" I wish I had never come here," I said
fiercely. "If I had only remained in New
York, I might have been happily married to
Rose."

Mrs, Rogers gave an affected laugh, "What
a pity ! " she said, in a sarcastic voice ; " it is too

■i

BRIGHTER srilERES.

bad that you missed such an honor. Fancy
introducing that creature — that play-actress —
to me, as your wife."

" Indeed," I replied, with a sneer, " were she
my wife, I would not care to introduce her to
you."

•' Enough of this," my father intcr[)oscd. " Ar-
thur, you forget yourself. My dear," he added,
turning to his wife, " will you kindly leave us?"

•' Don't mind that boy," she said, rising and
moving languidly across the room, " I never
expect anything better from him. I only pity
M lud, if she marries him." With this parting
thrust, she left the room.

'* So," I exclaimed, angrily, to my father,
" you and your wife have decided my fate. I
am to have no voice in the matter — to have no
judgment of my own."

" You are unreasonable," my father replied.
" Can you not see that it is all for your good }
You will have a good, sensible wife, besides gain-
ing a small fortune. You cannot expect me
always to provide you with money. At my
death you will have very little, as 1 have my
wife and children to look af^er. '

" I know that," I replied, moodily ; " they are

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

your lirst thought ; it makes no difference
whether I am happy or not."

"You are talking nonsense," he retorted;
"you will have everything to make you happy;
it is your own fault if you are not so. But
think the matter over, there is no hurry."

And think it over I did, in the quiet solitude
of the night. It was not the prospect of marry-
ing Maud that angered me, so much as not
having my own way. No doubt if they had
wanted me to marry some one else, I should then
have desired Maud in preference to any other
woman. " After all," I thought, ** she may
refuse me. She is a girl of sense, and can see
for herself that I have very little love to offer
her." But did I love her } that was the question
I asked myself, over and over. No, I fc!t quite
sure that I could admire, pity her, but could
not love her as she deserved to be loved, for I
knew that she was a good woman, and I felt
myself unworthy of her.

The next day I took a better view of the
matter. It was a hot, sultry Sunday, a day
that sometimes comes to us in spring-time, when
the sun shines as hot, and the birds sing as
gaily, as in midsummer.

BRlGirniR SrilEKES.

I spent the day in my own room trying to
make up my mind. " Many a man might do
worse," I thought; "she is pretty, graceful, and
wealthy. Perhaps it would be the best thing I
could do to marry her, if she is willing. Rose
is lost to me," I thought bitterly, " and is, no
doubt, happy with some other man. Why should
I not be happy also ? "

Towards evening my spirits rose, showing
the fickle nature I possessed, and I determined
to speak to Maud at once.

Knowing that she often spent Sunday even-
ings in the garden, which was one of her favorite
haunts, I went out to enjoy my cigar, in the hope
of meeting her and hearing her answer to my
proposal.

It was a lovely, balmy evening. A soft shower
had just fallen, which had refreshed the parched
earth, and cooled the atmosphere, making it a
pleasure to inhale the fragrant air. Across the
meadows came the faint ringing of distant bells.
Overhead a silvery moon kept silent watch over
the peaceful scene, and I began to wonder, in
an uncertain way, if it could but speak, what
wonders it might relate, what secrets it might
reveal.

BRIG II 1 'i:j< spheres.

i:A

rh'j calm, peaceful serenity of the hour seemed
to impress me with a sense of unworthiness,
and some new-born power seemed to rise within
me — a something which I could not define. Per-
haps it was the mysterious voice of nature,
which sometimes appeals to man ; or was it a
gleam of divinity, held out to mock my darkened
soul, and then withdrawn ? for the hour was not
yet come — the hour when all darknes*; ould
pass away, and my wondcri/ig soul behoid the
eternal light.

A slight noise behind mc attracted my atte n-
tion. It broke the spell ; the delight of the
moment was gone. 1 turned round, and
mechanically retraced my steps to the spot
from whence the sound came, for it sounded
like some one in distress. I pulled aside some
bushes that overhung a garden chair, and per-
ceived the outline of a woman's figure, " Is
anything wrong ? " I asked. " Who are you ? "
At the sound of my voice the figure rose to a
standing position, and with surprise I beheld, in
the set full moonlight, the features of Maud.

" Speak," I cried, " and tell me what is wrong;
has anything happened "i "

" You ! " she cried, " how dare you speak to

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

mc ? " and I felt, rather than saw, the anger and
contempt depicted on her countenance. "Is it
not enough," she went on, " that you have
caused me such misery ? "

" What do you mean ? " I said, in a tone of
surprise ; '' how am I the cause of your sorrow ? "

" My aunt has told me all," she said, brokenly ;
she has accused me of striving to win your love,
and vainly encouraging your attention ; and
that I, having lost all maidenly reserve, have
given you my affection unasked."

" She is a demon ! " I interrupted.

"Oh! it is unbearable," she went on, "and
unjust. I thought you all that was good and
noble, and almost unconsciously my heart
found in you a hero. Now," she added, " it is
all ended ; leave me, well satisfied with the
misery you have caused."

" No," I said sternly, " not till you have heard
what I have to say. Your aunt has told you her
story, no doubt with exaggeration. I said *
things yesterday, in my anger, that were not
meant to be repeated. I know not what you
think, or what you have heard ; but I do know
that this evening I came out here to look for
you with the puroose of asking you to be my
wife."

•,<«

5«

BRIGIITER SPHERES.

She gazed at me for an instant in silent
doubt. " You are jesting," she stammered.

" No," I answered, as calmly as I could, " I
am in downright earnest; I here ask you,
solemnly, to be my wife."

" Oh ! ' she exclaimed, " what am I to
believe ? Your manner speaks the truth ; if I
have wronged you, I am sorry."

" Don't think of that," I said cheerfully ; " but
I am waiting for an answer to my question."

" Not now," she said, hurriedly. " I must
have time ; I want to think. Are you quite sure
you did not speak through pity ? "

"Quite sure," I answered, smiling, "but think
it over and let your own heart decide. This
day week I will be here in this spot, at this
hour, and then you can ^wq me your answer,
which I trust will be a favorable one. We can
be quietly married and go away to some far
distant land, where we will forget all this un-
,pleasantness, all this sorrow."

" I would like that," she said, eagerly, " for I
could not live with my aunt any longer. I am
so sorry that I have misjudged you."

•* Forget it all," I said, " and do not let your
aunt influence you in this matter. I know her

BKIGIITKR SPHERES.

better than you do, and she would do anything
to injure me. I know that I am not a good
man, but I will do all in my power to make you
happy."

" I trust you," she said, softly ; " nothing shall
make me doubt you again ; " and we walked, in
silence, towards the house. Before we said
good-night, I made Maud promise to keep the
matter quiet until the week was up ; " for then,"
I said, playfully, " I shall know my fate."

I was greatly surprised to think how anxious
I was for a marriage that seemed so distasteful
to mo the day before. " It is her very unwilling-
ness," I thought. " If she had been more eager
to accept me I might not think so much of it."

But it is ever so. Human nature will ah -ays
be thus — people always longing, striving for
something beyond their reach ; and if perchance
they attain the coveted object, it instantly loses
its greatest value.

At the end of the week I won a shy consent
to my proposal, and I thought it best to inform
my father at once. He seemed to be expecting
it, and congratulated me warmly. " You are a
lucky boy," he said, '*to win such a wife."

Mrs. Rogers took the matter coolly, and said

'11

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

something about being very glad. But there
was no answering gladness in my heart, for I
knew her deceitful ways.

" You tried to turn Maud against me," I said
to her one day; but she only gave a sneering
laugh.

" I believe," I said angrily, " that you wanted
to get rid of the girl."

" Perhaps so," she said, knowingly. And, in
after years, I knew that it was so. When she
thought that I would not marry Maud, she
planned to make her life miserable, and so
drive her from her home.

We arranged to have the wedding take place
early in August. It was to be private, on
account of Mr. Waters' death, and only a few
distant relations were notified. We all spent the
summer months at a fashionable seaside summer
resort, and Maud seemed very happy. I was
very attentive to her, and gave her many costly
presents. Afterwards I was glad to think it had
been so, and that for a short time I had con-
tributed to make her happy ; and if at times
the image of another face rose before me — a face
with dark, haunting eyes that I had once loved —
I thrust the memory from me, and no one

BRrailTKR S PI IF. RES.

guessed the unsatisfied longing and deep yearn-
ing of my heart.

My father was in great glee at the approach-
ing wedding. He arranged for me to have a
yearly income, that I might not be dependent
on my wife's bounty. Poor Maud, in her loving
trust and confidence in me, had given me the
management of her wealth. This was the
worst thing that she could have done. Money
had always led me into evil; and with wealth
at my command I would surely go to ruin.

With the first of August came our wedding
day, and nature seemed to have put on her
fairest aspect to usher it in. Never did the sun
shine brighter, or the birds sing sweeter, the
flowers breathe choicer perfumes than they did
on that morning. " Surely," I thought, *' it is
a good omen, and our future will be as fair and
cloudless as yonder sky. Alas ! how could I
foretell the trouble that was in store for us ; how
could I see into the dark vista of futurity and
read there the misery that was to come 1

■m

I... I

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

CHAPTER VI.

MARRIED LIFE.

Weddings are an every-day occurrence, and are
so familiar to every one that I think it useless
to describe mine. We started for Paris the
same day, and after spending two months in
travelling we returned to New York and took
up our abode. It was the worst place I could
have chosen, for it was filled with old associates,
old haunts, and old memories.

My old friends were not long in finding me
out, and they began inviting me around. I
soon neglected my home and sought amuse-
ment with them. At first Maud did not mind
this, but after a time the cruelty of my neglect
began to dawn on her, and she would remon-
strate with me, and ask me where I spent my
time. I would always have some excuse ready,
and gradually her loving trust in me began to
fade. It would have been better if I had told her
all my weakness and temptation, for she might
have saved me even then ; but I chose my own

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

path, and day by day wc drifted further and
further apart. I saw that my marriage had
been a mistake, a grievous mistake, that could
not be rectified, and the knowledge of it embit-
tered my life.

I soon began squandering my wife's wealth.
Some of it went to pay gambling debts ; some
of it was spent on pretty women. My own
income I considered a mere trifle, and spent it
as soon as I got it.

A life like this brought very little happiness,
Maud soon saw that she had been deceived in
mc ; that I was far from being the hero she had
thought me. We had no tastes in common ;
she had her friends, I had mine ; she amused
herself with others, so did I. But it soon
began to tell on her health ; she grew thin and
pale, and was but a ghost of her former self.

I will pass over the first year of such a life — a
year during which I grew worse instead of
better. Retribution, however, was soon to over-
take me, and I would suffer as I had sinned.

One afternoon I was seated alone in the
library, trying to read. I had been out till
dawn the day before, and was suffering from a
severe headache. Maud was downstairs in the

i- '

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BRKJllTER SriIERKS.

drawing-room entertaining my father and his
wife, who had come to pay us a visit. So
engrossed was I with my miserable thoughts,
that one of the hired girls entered and spoke to
me twice before I noticed her.

" What is it ? " I asked, at last perceiving her.

** Your father wishes to see you downstairs,"
she said ; and I arose, languidly, and descended,
mentally wishing my father at his own home.

When I entered the drawing-room, an excited
group stood before me. At one end of tiic
room Mrs. Rogers was supporting the half-
fainting form of my wife, and in the centre of
the room my father stood, confronting a tall,
shabbily-dressed woman.

"What does this mean.!*" I cried. At the
sound of my voice the woman turned, and I
recognized the once pretty features of a young
girl with whose affections I had seriously
trifled some months before. I had almost for-
gotten the affair, until she stood before me like
some dread accuser.

" Villain ! " she cried, " I have tracked you at
last."

"What do you want, girl.?" I said, angrily.
"Ifit is money "

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

"What!" she exclaimed. "Money! will
money brinj^ back my lost girlhood, my lost
home ? Aye, lady," she said, turning to Maud,
who had sunk helplessly into the nearest chair,
" once I was pure as yonder flowers that bloom
unblemished, until he crossed my path and
flattered me with his promises of love ; and,
innocent of the world and the wickedness of
man, I listened and I fell. For his sake I left
my happy home, my aged father and the loving
friends of my childhood. For his sake I would
have sacrificed my soul ; and in return, he offers
me money ! But he soon tired of his pretty
plaything — tired, as he will one day tire of you,
lady, for his guilty nature cannot love. When
I learned the truth, my whole being rose in
rebellion against such a cruel wrong, and I
swore to be revenged. Fven now that I have
destroyed the peace of his home I am not
satisfied, and I will not rest until he has become,
as I have, a homeless, friendless wanderer."

" Speak, Arthur," Mrs. Rogers exclaimed,
crossing over to where I stood, the picture of
despair. " Why don't you order her from the
house } the creature must be mad."

•' No, lady, I am not mad," the girl said in a

'■hi.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

choked voice. " Perhaps, did you suffer the
misery that I have suffered, you would indeed
be m-id. Sometimes I wonder that I am not
so. You are a woman, with a woman's heart,
a woman's instinct, you can pity mc." She
laid one thin hand on Mrs. Rogers' arm for an
instant, but that worthy drew back with an
affected shudder, as if there was contamination
in the touch.

" How dare you ? " she hissed in an angry
tone.

But the poor, wronged creature was equal to

the occasion. Drawing herself proudly up, she

said in vibrating tones, "And who are you that I

am not fit to touch ? You think yourself mighty

fine, do you not ? You imagine yourself a lady

because you have fine silks and jewellery, yet

I, in my rags, am your equal, and," she added,

" were you the queen of the universe, and I but

the veriest wretch of all nature's creation, still

would I think myself as good as you. But, ''

she went on in softer tones, " why should I seek

your pity ? why should I need your help }

soon I shall be beyond the reach of human aid

Perhaps, ere another day shall dawn, aye, a

perhaps ere yonder sun shall set, I will have

liRlGIlTER SPHERES,

sunk into oblivion 'ncath the angry waters that
are ever ready to engulf the wretched ; then
your pity cannot help me; then I shall have
peace. Keep your money," she added, sternly,
as my father offered her some. " Of what use
is it to me ? "

She turned and groped her way towards the
door, and then paused and looked once more
to where I still stood. " As for you," she hissed,
"the author of my misery, may Heaven's bitter-
est curse descend upon you, and on your chil-
dren ; aye, and on your children's children!
May your life be as miserable as you have made
mine! May you die, as I shall die, comfortless,
cheerless and alone ! " Her voice died away
faintly, and she was gone.

My father followed her into the hall, and I
left the room by another door, for I felt just
then as if I could not meet Maud's reproachful
gaze ; one glimpse of her sad tace had told me
that her trust in me was gone for ever.

I seized my hat and hurried from the house,
to seek diversion with my companions amidst
the gaiety of the large city, for I wanted to for-
get the unpleasant scene I had just goJie through.
No matter how hard I strive d, I could not.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

efface the memory of the white, despairing and
reproachful face of the girl I had wronged.
What a contrast, I thought, in this creature
and the pretty maiden I had known her. Then
she was a gentle, loving girl, in the bloom of
youth, just entering the borderlands of woman-
hood, the pride and joy of her aged father, the
sunshine of her home. Yet misery had brought
about this change, transforming the loving, trust-
ing maiden into the wild, despairing woman.
And then I thought of Maud. She had blindly
trusted me. and I was slowly, but surely, crush-
ing all joy and beauty out of her young life,
letter for her if she had never seen my face ;
now she will not care if she never sees me again.
I thought, bitterly, of how I had lost all right
to her love and confidence ; but I had yet to
prove the depth of a woman's love, the strength
of a wife's devotion.

At this period of my life, I must have been
surrounded by evil spirits who were trying to
drag me down into the lowest depths of depra-
vity and sin, for on all sides evil tempted me ;
and in the weakness of my soul I listened to the
subtle voices that flashed like lightning through
my brain. Remorse fled into the obscure mists

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

of eternity, and evil reigned supreme master of
my soul.

"What do you care?" the voice seemed to
whisper. " Let other people be miserable. As
long as you enjoy life, what docs it matter how-
many hearts you break } There is no hereafter ;
life is short ; so why not enjoy it ? " And I
made up my mind to do so, and became hard
and defiant.

It was not till very late that I returned home.
All the inmates of the household had retired,
and were lost in peaceful slumber — the reward of
a pure conscience. Through the weary night I
slept at intervals — an uneasy and broken slumber
that brought me no refreshing rest ; and in the
morning light I awoke to find my father slowly
pacing the floor of my room. We had a stormy
interview that lasted some time, but little good
resulted from it. " You are a disgrace to your
name," my father said, passionately, " and, if you
do not change your mode of living, Maud will
have to sue for a divorce."

" Indeed ! " I sneered, "perhaps it would be
the best thing she could do, if it would bring
her any happiness."

" Oh," he went on, " it is too bad that she ever

» ■

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

married you, for you are not worthy of such a
wife. Even now she is ready to forgive and for-
get all, if you amend your life. Poor girl, she
thinks she is partly to blame. She says she did
not try hard enough to keep you at home. But
I know better ; it is your own evil nature that
has caused all this misery."

" It was you and your wife," I retorted, '* that
first put the idea of this marriage in my head ;
and you tried hard to bring it about. Now
that you behold the consequences, you wish to
transfer the blame to me."

** Talk sense," he said, angrily. " I am going
home this evening, but will return at Christmas ;
and if things are not different, I will bring
Maud back home with me, and she will make
her home with us."

" I wonder what your amiable wife will say
to that," I replied. " I don't think she would
approve of it j she was in such a hurry last year
to get rid of Maud."

To this he did not deign any reply, but left
the room, loudly banging the door after him.
I did not see him again, for he left late that
afternoon for home, accompanied by his wife.
I was out when they left, and did not return

BRICiriER SPHERES.

home u:itil the sh.idcs of night had already-
descended on the city.

Never did my residence look so homelike to
me as it did that evening. The low easy chairs,
placed invitingly around, gave a look of comfort
to the drawing-room, while a genial warmth,
mingled with the perfume of flowers, pervaded
the atmosphere. Through the curtained door-
way that led into another room came the soft
strains of sweet music, and I stood in silence to
listen. It was Maud, playing to herself in the
darkness, and she seemed to be pouring forth
her whole soul in a flood of sad melody.

Music had always impressed me, and often it
seemed to sooth the throbbings of my spirit,
and still the disquietude within me. I had often
wondered what it was in music that appealed
alike to the great and humble, to the ignorant
and the wise. To me it was the greatest of
human joys, lifting the enraptured soul above
the cares of the weary world, and ennobling it
with pure thoughts. The music suddenly stopped
and Maud came softly towards me, laying her
hand gently on my arm.

" Perhaps you would like to hear," she said.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

"tliat I have provided a home for that poor
girl that was liere yesterday."

"It has nothing to do with me," I said, roughly.

She drew back, with a low sigh. *' Will you
not stay at home to-night?" she asked, after a
slight pause.

*• I have an appointment," I said, hurriedly ;
" I must go out again."

** It is always something to take you from
home," she answered.

" I did not marry you to be ordered about like
an overgrown school-boy," I retorted. "I will
stay in on Sunday. I have so many friends
who are always inviting me around."

" Do you never remember your home ? " she
asked. " I have been thinking," she went on,
" that we ought to go away for a short time ; it
would perhaps make a change ; I am tired of
this.'

"You can go, if you want a change," I
answered. " I am going to remain."

She made no reply ; she evidently saw that
it was useless. The matter was dropped there,
and the old life went on as before ; the months
lengthened into winter and Christmas was
approaching, and still there was no change.

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

CHAPTER VII.

THE RETURN OF A LOST LOVE.

One evening I was just leaving home, and at
the steps that led to the door I encountered the
figure of a woman in the act of ascending.

"Who do you wish to see?" I inquired.
" Mrs. Rogers is not at home."

" It is you I want," she replied. " Don't you

know me ? "

" Rose ! " I exclaimed, " is it really you } "

" Yes," she answered. " I have tried hard to
find you. I must be greatly changed, since you
did not know me."

'• Come in," I said, hastily, "out of the cold ;
my wife is at the opera, and will net be home
for some hours."

She followed me into the library, and, in the
glare of the gaslight, I saw that she had grown
pale and thin, and was poorly clad — quite a con-
trast to when I saw her last. I drew a chair

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

forward for her, and she seated herself with a
weary sigh.

" Now," I said, " we can talk unmolested.
First tell me why you answered none of my
letters ? "

"Your letters ! " she cried, in well-feigned sur-
prise, " what letters ? "

"Do you mean to tell me that you never
received my letters?" I asked, incredulously.

" No," she said, slowly, shaking her head. " I
never heard from you since you left New York,
and I came to the conclusion that you had for-
gotten me. I read of your marriage in the
papers, and I tried to forget that I had ever
known you."

" And I thought you were false," I said, bitter-
ly. " I waited in vain for an answer to my letters,
and, when none came, I thought you had
married some one else. Oh ! why did you not
give me some token — some sign that you were
still true to me ? "

" I was sick for a long time," she answered.
" After I threw up my engagement at the theatre,
I went over to Canada, but could obtain no
employment ; and then I fell sick. As soon
as I recovered; I returned here, and, as I was in

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

want, and having no other friend to apply to,
I thought of you. I saw you several times on
the street, and followed you home the other
evening ; that was how I found out where you
lived. I thought, perhaps, in memory of our old
love and happy days together, you would assist
me a little."

" Why, of course, my dear girl," I exclaimed.
" Why did you not apply to me before ? Do
you not know how I have longed for a sight of
your face } "

" Hush," she said, " remember you are
married."

" Yes," I said, bitterly, " married but not
happy. Did you think that such a marriage
was likely to be a happy one ? "

" Do you remember," she said, thoughtfully,
" all our old happy days ? How you used to love
me! Then I did not know my own heart, but
now I know that I love you."

*' Don't ! " I pleaded, " the remembrance of it
grieves me ; those days are gone forever ; why
recall them } Another now stands between us,
and our love is useless."

1 gazed at her with a look of untold misery.
"O Rose," I added, "it is so hard to bear!

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70 BRIGHTER SPHERES.

You were cruel not to have sent me some word
of your )ove, some token of your constancy. If
you had done so, all this might have been
averted."

" It is our fate," she said, with a low sigh of
regret.

*' No," I said, as I rose and impatiently paced
the floor, " I am not going to submit to this.
There is divorce open to me, for I still love you,
and cannot live without you. How often have
I recalled our promises of love, our bright
dreams for the future, now faded and gone."

"I must go," she said, rising hurriedly to her
feet. " Your wife must never know of this visit."

" I will go with you," I said, hastily. " I intend
to look after you now."

"How good you are!" she murmured, softly,
as we went out together into the chill November
air.

I soon secured her comfortable lodgings in a
fashionable quarter of the city, and we parted
with a promise to meet again the next day.
But this was only the beginning of many meet-
ings, and I often cursed the fate that separated
me from the woman I still loved ; for, at first
sight of her, all the old love had returned with

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

renewed force. I kept her amply supplied with
money, dresses and jewellery ; at times I forgot
to be cautious, and would be seen with her driv-
ing on Broadway, or seated in the opera, under
the public gaze.

Somehow the story was carried to Maud ;
and one morning at the breakfast table she
broached the subject.

" What have I ever done," she said, sadly,
" that you should show me such little respect ? **

" What do you mean ? " I asked, calmly.
" What is the matter now ? "

" How disingenuous you arc!" she rejoined;
" why, it is the talk of the whole city. You are
frequently seen in company with another woman,
while I, your wife, am neglected at home, to be
pitied and talked of."

"You are too sensitive," I replied, calmly,
"you should not mind what people say."

" And is this life to go on always } " she asked,
impatiently. " Is there never to be a change ">. "

" Since you are so unhappy, why not sue for
a divorce } " I rejoined.

'* No," she said, with a shudder, " anything but
that. I could not stand the public exposure of
the court ; and in the end what should I gain }

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BRIGIirER SPHERES,

The woman is always the one to blame in a case
of that kind. No matter how innocent she may
be, the world fmds fault with her. And," she
added, "though my burden is a heavy one, I must
bear it to the end."

I made no reply, but silently loft the room ;
and, a few hours after, I was lauc^hin^r and talk-
ing- joyfully with Rose. I had now grown reck-
less, and I spent all my spare time in her society.
She always greeted me with her sweetest smiles,
luring mc from the path of duty into the road
of destruction. At last I grew tired of the de-
ceptive life I was leading, and determined to
break the chains that bound me, and flee to
some unknown country with Rose. It took me
some time to make up my mind to do this, for
T needed money. Rose was very extravagant
and spent money as if it was picked up, and I
knew that I would have to be well supplied with
it before I ventured on the contemplated step :
so 1 patiently waited my chance, v/ithout a sting
of remorse for the cruel wron<j[- I was inllictincf
on my wife. I comforted myself with the
idea that marriage was no marriage unless
there was perfect love. " It is only with Rose,"
I thought, " that I can find happiness — I^iaud

nRlGIlTEK SI 'I 11: RES.

t :>

will be better without me." In after years I
reviewed tliis part of my life with sadness.
How often do we look back and si^h with
regret for what might have been !

About this time a change took place in Maud
which greatly astonished me. She became a
Christian. Hitherto she had expressed no set-
tled belief, and attended no church. Her life
had been devoted to fashion and i)leasure.
Now she suddenly changed her way of living
and became a member of a wealthy church
in the locality of our home, and all lier spare
time was spent in visiting the sick and dis-
tressed. She made no secret of her belief, and
would sometimes tell me her experiences. Once,
she commenced to relate some sermon to me,
but I interrupted her with an impatient gesture.
" You may believe all that rubbish," I said
sharply, '' but don't expect me to listen to it.
I may never believe there is any truth in
Christianity, and you will soon awake to find
that it is all false."

" Oh, no," she replied. " I have experienced
the comfort of religion, and the joy of doing
good. I feel sure of a state of existence beyond
the grave."

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" You hn.vc your head full of fancies," T ro
plied ; " you need not repeat them to nie, as
I never can be convinced of a future state."

Some time after this conversation Maud
suggested bringing her clergyman to see me,
but I flew into a rage and told her to let me
follow my own path in life, and she could do
likewise. She made no effort after this to re-
form me. I have thought since that she did
not go the right way about it, or did not right-
ly understand my character.

The week before Christmas my father arrived,
and he was awfully indignant when he heard of
Maud's conversion.

*' It is all your fault," he said to me, in anger.
"If you had treated your wife with the respect
due to her, she would not have joined the
Church. All they want from her is her money."

'• It is only a fancy, and pleases her," I said
indifferently ; " she will soon grow tired of it."
I thought it strange that my father said nothing
of the conversation we had together on his last
visit. But though he said nothing, I felt tliat he
watched me closely. Yet I managed to evade
him, and contrived to spend many pleasant
hours in the society of Rose.

BRIGin'ER SPHERES.

One evening my father tried to prevent my
going out, and an angry scene ensued. I told
him, hotly, that I was my own master, and
would go where I pleased, and do as I pleased.
I then left the house, and sought Rose for com-
fort. She was looking unusually lovely, in an
evening toilet of some bright color, and some of
the jewels I had given her gleamed conspicu-
ously on the rounded arms, and encircled the
slender fingers.

" I am going away," I said abruptly. '* I will
leave New York next week."

She gave me a look of alarm. " Are you
going to desert me ? " she asked, sadly.

"Leave you, my darling! " I cried, " No —
you must come with me ; we will fly into
Canada, and live happily there."

" Do you really mean it ? " she exclaimed,
" or are you only jesting } "

*' No," I said, earnestly. " I have thought it
over for some time, and have at last determined
to fly." And then I pictured a new life for us
in a new country. She listened joyfully to all
my plans, and, before I said good-night, I
had arranged a plan for flight in the following
week.

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lUaCiri'ER SPHERES.

A few days afterwards I quietly helped my-
self to a few luindrcds of my wife's dollars,
comfortini^ myself with the plea that T had a
just claim to them. With this, added to my in-
come whicli had just come due, I intended to
start some business in Canada, lilverything was
now arranged, and to me the days seemed to
draL( on slowly. At last the week came to an
end, and on Saturday, as I was going out, Maud
came to me in the hall, looking very pale and
careworn in the dim light.

"Arthur," she said coaxingly, "you might
purchase tickets for our Bazaar. Spend some
mone)' in the cause, even if you don't wish to
attend it."

And 1, knowing that I would be far away at
the time in question, readily gave the required
promise, though I could not help feeling what
a villain 1 was for deceiving her; but it was only
a momentary pang, which soon i)assed awa)',
when I reflected that in a few da}'s I would be
alone with Rose, and know that she was mine
at last.

1 suppose by this time the reader looks upon
me as a very grievous sinner ; but spare me )'our
iudgment, for onlv he who beholds the stru<jLrles,
the temptations of a soul — he alone can judge!

m'^

BRKJUTER ^rilEKES.

CHAPTICR VIII.

8ll

FLIGHT.

TllK night was dark and dreary. Overhead
huge clouds of intense darkness gatliered ami
rolled across the angry sky. jid in the distance
one coukl hear the low raLfintr of the uiiitw
blast as it swept through the almost dcsertrtl

streets.

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figure and bent head, in the direction of Madi-
son Square, where I had arranged to meet Rose ;
for it was the m"ght we had ajjpointed for flight.
I fountl her anxiously waiting for me, and in .i
very short time we commenced our journe}-- I
experienced a feeling of relief, with a sense of
freedom, .'iik* einbarked on the fatal step witliout
a thought t/f apprehension for the future, or a
pang of regret for the past.

We decided to stay in Tonjnto ; and T fur-
nished a house there, and looked inountl me for
a safe investment for m\' mone}'. in this I was
not successful. 1 had no busine capacity, .ind

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

I let things go on as they were. Funds soon
began to get low in Rose's extravagant hands.
In vain I remonstrated with her. She only
laughed at me, and told me there was plenty
more where that came from, and that I had a
rich father to ai)ply to. liut in this I knew
better than she did. I knew perfectly well that
it would be useless to apply to my father. I
should never again spend a cent of his money.

Some months passed by, and I began to
awaken from the glamour that had been cast
over me. T beheld manv traits in the character
of Rose that did not please me. In the first
place, she was an arrant flirt, and gathered a
miscellaneous sort of people at our house — peo-
I)le that I detested, one man in particular, a
tall, dark foreigner whom I will call Latondal.
1 thoroughly hated him ; he was always hovering
around Rose; and something in their conversa-
tion led me to believe that they had known each
other in earlier life, but I could never get Rose
to acknowledge it.

As the months sped quickly onward, T began
to grow curious as to how they regarded mc at
home. I had one friend in New York whom I
knew I could trust, and who was sure to be well

BRIGUTER SPHERES. 79

*' posted " in all the news. So one day I wrote to
liim, and in a few days back came an answer
which somewhat startled me. I read first, that
1 was regarded in the city as a monster of
inc;ratitude and cruelty, and that I must have
been a heartless wretch, bringing disgrace on an
honored family and a stain on a spotless name.
Maud was seriously ill, and, at the time the
letter was written, she lay at the point of death.
The news of my flight, coupled with the loss
of iier money, had produced a severe shock to
her system, already weakened by the trials she
had gone through.

I could not help being touched with remorse,
and I told the contents of the 'etter to Rose,
expecting some sympathy from 1 :r.

" If Maud dies, it will be our fault," I said
moodily.

"Nonsense," she replied; *' ii might have
liappened if you had never left her but she will
get over it. People do not die so easily."

For once she was wrong. A da '■ or two later
I received a newspaper from nr friend, an-
nouncing the untimely death of " ]\ aud Waters,
wife of Arthur Rogers, aged twenty four." Rose
was in the room, and I silcntl}- hai ded her the

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BRIG 11 TKR Srill'.KES.

paper, pointinfj to the paragraph ; but she took
it in a cool manner. "There is nothing to pre-
vent your marrying me now," she said indiffer-
ently ; and I, disgusted with her selfishness,
left the house, and went out into the evening air
to try and cahn my agitated thoughts.

" It is the second time in my life that I have
been the indirect cause of death," 1 said to ni)'-
self, bitterly. Then I recalled the many instances
of Maud's kindness to me, and how basely I had
repaid her. And then I remembered the ])ro-
mise I had made lier dying father, when the
presentiment of this evil had overshadowed him
— a promise never fulfilled, for I had badly
befriended his orphaned girl.

" It is useless to recall tlie past," 1 thought
sadly; "it is too late for. atonement,. I h;i\-e
gone too fir in the wa}' of sin ; " ami tliough the
world believed that Maud died of a nervous
fever produced by a severe shock, I knew that
she dietl of a broken heart.

Every day after the news of Maud's death
reached us Rose kept urging me for a speedy
marriage ; and in an evil hour I consented, little
thinking of the misery it was to cause me in
after vears.

flRICHTKR SPHERES,

One dark, wet evening we were privately
married in the minister's drawing-room. There
were two witnesses present ; and only one fact
prevented entire happiness for Rose — she com-
plained of not having enough money, and at the
dull life she was leading, compared with the
gay one she had been accustomed to.

" Why don't you write to your father for
money ? " she said to me one day.

" If you would be less lavish with your bills,
there would be no necessity for asking anyo:ie
for money," I answered.

'' What do you expect me to do ? " si j queried.
" I must live. This i)lace is so dull. I want
some excitement."

•' What more do you want } " I asked. " You
are never satisfied. Vou have the Ixst dress
and the finest jewellery of any lady in the
City.

*' And what is the use of it all .'' " she grumbled.
*' I am sick of this place."

" Let us try Montreal," I suggested. '• I
might find employment there ; for, unle>s money
comes from some puint, we are ruined."

At lirst she objected, but gradually gave in ;

and a few weeks later saw us installed in com-

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

fortablc lodgings in Montreal. The city pleased
me, but Rose did not like it ; yei she contrived
to make acquaintances, as she had done in
Toronto, and I was surprised one day, on
returning home, to see Latondal in our sitting
room.

" How came that man here } " I asked Rose,
after he had gone.

" 1 le walked here," she replied defiantly.

" Don't trifle with me," I said, sternly. " I
will not have any of your devilish tricks."

" Why, Arthur ! " she said, with an affected
laugh, for she saw my temper was ris'ng,
*• v/hat has come over you ? Latondal is only
A friend ; 1 met him on the street the other day,
and asked him to call. It is quite accidental ;
he is merely passing through the city."

I felt that she lied, but said nothing, resolved
to watch (juictly. Some instinct warned me
there was something wrong.

I was unsuccessful in finding employment.
I searched and advertised day after day, but
with no success ; and I began to grow dis-
couraged.

One day I returned home, tired and weary,
after a vain search. *' I must be reaping the

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

harvest of my sin," I thought wearily, for I had
never felt so sad and downhearted. " Every-
thing seems to turn against me ; and even Rose,
from whom I expected so much, is careless and
indifferent how much I suffer, so long as she
does not want for anything."

Our rooms were deserted when I entered,
Rose had evidently gone out in a hurr)-, for things
were scattered carelessly around. " Poor girl,"
I reflected sadly, "she will never be able to
live in poverty ; for her sake I must do some-
thing. Even now she does not realize how
nearly beggared we are."

My eyes fell on a sheet of paper that lay on
the carpet at my feet. I stooped, mechanically,
and picked it up, and was surprised to find that
it was a letter in my own handwriting. " Where
in the world did this come from?" I muttered,
beginning to read it ; then, with a start, I
crushed it in my rage, for it was the very first
letter I had written Rose when I had first parted
from her in New York. "She has deceived
me," I groaned, for she hul told me that she
had never received any . my letters. "How
can I ever trust her again ! What was her
motive! " I wondered. "Why h id she denied

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HRIC.IITER SPHERES.

ever having heard from me ? I will find out,"
I cried excitedly. " I will know her reasons."

The sight of the letter had recalled to me all
my anguish at the time it was written, when I
had thought Rose was lost to me forever. I
felt now as if I should go mad. The knowledge
ofherun worthiness crushed me; and, at the same
time, I felt as if I deserved all I was sufiferincr
for the way I had treated Maud, who had been
worthy of a better fate. The sting of remorse
again entered my soul, and I saw my conduct
in a new light.

I think, of all human sentiments remorse is
the worst, for it embitters the soul and wrings
the mind with anguish.

*♦ Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart
Feels all the bitter horrors of his crime,
Can reason down its agonizing throbs ;
And, after proper purpose of amendment
Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace?
Oh, happy, hap]iy, enviable man 1
Oh, glorious magnanimity of soul I " *

Even while these thoughts oppressed me, the
door opened and Rose entered. There was a
tender light in her liquid eyes, and a happy

* Burn's Remorse.

BRiail TER sriIERl.S.

smile just parted the crimson lips. "Can it be
possible," I thought, " that underneath this mask
of loveliness there exists a heart of deceitful-
ness and sin ! "

"See here," I said sternly, handing her the
crushed letter, " this belongs to you : I found
it on the floor."

She took it carelessly, and glanced at the
writing; then I saw her color change and the
smile die away — but for a moment — then, with
an effort, she recovered her self-control.

" I suppose you have read it," she said
defiantly.

"As I wrote the letter, there was nothing
wrong in my reading it. And now perhaps you
will explain your motive for deceiving me.
Did you not tell mc that you never heard from
me after I left New York ? "

"Would it do an)' good if you heard the
truth ? " she saitl, with a sneer.

"I would hear the truth," 1 answered; "my
suspicions are dark enough. Why did you tell
me that you believed me false, when all the time
you knew differently ? I once believed you
above such deceit."

"And who are you to talk of deceit .^ Did

■*■'.■

^43

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

you not deceive your wife ? and, after robbing
her, desert her and leave her broken-hearted ? "
she said.

** Stop ! " I cried ; ''you are going too far; I
almost forget you are a woman, and that I once
loved you."

The misery in my heart must have been
reflected in my countenance, for her laughter
rippled forth, and I knew it was in mocking
derision at my anguish. She came towards
me like some beautiful, gliding serpent.

" Poor fool ! did you think I ever loved you ? "
she hissed, — " I, who might have had the
United Kingdom at my feet ! Men flattered
and worshipped me for my beauty, but there
was only one who ever touched my heart, one
alone whom I could acknowledge for my
master; but he scorned my love — he was too
good and noble to love a woman such as I was ;
yet I tried hard to win him, and when I saw it
was all in vain, I determined to be reven^•ed.
It was at this time that you appeared on the
scene, and you were useful to me in many ways.
Your money helped to bring me the things I
loved, but I never intended to marry you ; and
when you left New York I thought I had seen

BRhUiTER SI w//:a'/:s.

the last of you. I received your letters, but
determined to take no notice k)( them. The
man I loved was then in Canada, and I fullowed
him here to find I was too late ; death had
come before me and claimed him ; lie was
beyond my reach — lost to me for ever — and I
found that I was alone and friendless in a
strange city. I was sick for a while, anil
when I recovered I returned to New York. I
heard that you were married, and I made u() my
mind to see you, for I thought through }'()u I
could again obtain some help. The rest you
know. 1 lied to you for my own good."

I raised my head and glared wildly at her.

" And it was for }'ou I left my home, deserted
a loving wife," I said sadly. "Well, I hope j-uu
are satisfied with your work ; and if some day
you hear of me as committing some dreadful,
awful crime, then remember that it \vas you
who made me what I am ! "

She made no reply, but went into the next
room ; and I left the house and went out into
the evening air, for I felt as if I was going mad.
I knew that my sins had been great, but my
punishment seemed more than I could bear.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

CHAPTER IX.

RETRIBUTION.

As I tried to still the throbbings of my agitated
brain, I wondered if all the world was full of
evil, if there were no good people in existence.
Suddenly the remembrance of my mother
flashed through my whirling brain. She was
good ! And then Maud — what a good woman
she was ! Yet these two ncre Christians. If
there is a God, He must be good ! But how
was I to find Him out — that unknown God ?
How was I to reach Him ? Where could I find
l)roof of His existence ? '• O ye heavens ! can
you not speak and tell me if there is a God ? "
I silently murmured. "And yonder cloud — if it
could but move, would I behold a world of
glory behind it? No, it is all a mistake! If
there is a God, He is not for me ; it is too late
for me to seek Him."

And then my heart grew bitter against Rose.
" But why should I mind her } " I thought.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

" She is not worth my anger." Yet I could not
banish the recollections of the old happy days
when I thought she loved me, and when I
believed her the fairest and purest of earth's
creatures. But I was dazzled by the outside
surface ; I could not see beneath and read the
faults and weakness of the soul. " What have
I left to live for 1 " I asked myself in my misery ;
" if I were to die to-night there is not one living
creature who would care — not one who would
drop a silent tear to my memory."

For an instant I contemplated taking my own
life ; and then I banishc^ the idea, as I thought
that Rose would not care — perhaps would
only laugh at me for my folly ! So I deter-
mined to live on, even if it was nothing but
misery — there was still a chance for a new life.
That night I wrote a long letter to my father,
in which I told him all. I did not spare myself
in any way : I told him how Rose had led me
on, deceiving me from the beginning ; and then
I asked him, as a favor, to send me some money,
— for I had heard of a business chance, but
needed a small capital. I only asked it as a loan,
for I was sure of being able to return it, as I
intended commencing a new life.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

How anxiously I awaited a reply, and how
long the days seemed to drag out their length !
I knew that all my future depended on the
answer I should receive. I had it addressed to
llic post office ; and every day I went there,
only to return disappointed. But it came at
last, and, as I recognized my father's writing, I
could not repress my agitation. " What did it
contain?" I wondered, as with trembling fin-
gers I tore it open. After briefly glancing at
it, I saw that he had simply taken the letter I
had sent him and returned it without a word of
comment. He seemed determined to icjnore
my existence; and, though I made no outward
sign, I felt crushed and bewildered with the
disappointment I had received, for I felt as if
my last hope had vanished — I was indeed friend-
less.

" It is only what I might have expected," I
thought, wearily ; " he will never forgive the
past.

I returned homeward sadly, for I felt that I
must tell Rose we were ruined ; and yet I
shrank from it — for, although she had deceived
me and spoiled my life, she was the last creature
left for me to cling to.

r;'; i I

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

I well knew what a scene there would be
when she heard the truth. Our rooms had a
lonely, deserted look when I entered, and, al-
though the April sun beamed l)rightly in, I
shivered with the cold ; a nameless dread had
taken possession of me, and I could not shake
it off. I looked around for Rose : she was not
in, but I found a note, in her writing, on the
table. I opened it, with wildly-beating heart,
and read the following : —

*' Dear Arthur,

" I think, after what passed the other evening, we
are better apart. 1 fly with one who loves me better
than you ever did, and with whom I hope to be hap-
py. Do not try to follow me ; it would be useless ;
and I hope you will learn to forget your lost

Rose,'

And that was all — not a word of regret for
the misery she had caused me ; not a word of
sorrow for the life she had spoiled ! I looked
sadly through the deserted rooms, and found
that she had taken everything of the least pos-
sible value with her — selfish to the last. '* Is it
not a just retribution t " I asked myself For
her sake I had sacrificed all that would have
made life dear to me — my home, my wife, and
my father's respect ; and now, in the hour of

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

my greatest need, she had left me, penniless,
friendless, and alone.

A sudden longing for vengeance took posses-
sion of me. I crushed her letter under my feet,
and cursed her aloud in the bitterness of my
rage* I well knew that it was with Latondal
she had flown. " I will find them both, and
kill them," I muttered through my set teeth ;
and I left the house determined to hunt them
down.

A shower of rain had fallen and passed away,
and the sun again shone out brilliantly, causing
the raindrops on the branches of the trees to
sparkle like countless diamonds. The streets
were thronged with gaily-dressed people, and I
vaguely wondered if anyone else was as misera-
ble as I was. My first intention was to inquire
at the railway station, to see if I could find
trace of anyone answering to the description of
those I sought. I hurried along westward on
St. James street, and at one of the crossings I
had to pause, for quite a crowd had gathered
around a break-down — of an express or some-
thing — right in the middle of the road. Suddenly

there was a shout from the crowd, and, tiirninsr
round, I perceived a startled horse advancino-

i (

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

m-\

Tit a great rate, dragging a shattered dog-cart
after him, in which a lady was seated holding
on like grim death. In an instant I compre-
hended her danger, for the frightened animal
would inevitably come into collision with the
broken-down express that lay in his road. As
it dashed onward I sprang forward and stood in
its path ; and, as soon as it came near enough,
I made a spring and grasped the bridle.

There was a sudden, swerving motion, and the
shouts of the by-standers sounded dimly in my
ears ; there was a heavy thud, as I was thrown
violently to the earth, where for a moment I
faintly struggled with a sensation of weakness,
and then all became a blank.

O blessed unconsciousness, that saved me from
an awful crime and from a murderer's fate ! for
my brain, that had been working with thoughts
of hatred and vengeance, was now still and
senseless, and I knew nothing of what followed.
I had a dreamy sensation of being lifted, and
for a long time afterwards I seemed to lie en-
shrouded in a gloomy darkness. Then I fancied
myself in a blaze of glaring light, from which I
vainly tried to hide ; and then, with a struggle,
I opened my aching eyelids, to find that it was
the mid-day sun shining full upon me.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

" Where am I ? *' was my first thought, as I
tried to collect my scattered senses. I gazed
around me in bewilderment, for every thing was
strange to me, I was lying on a soft, white bed
in the centre of a large, rose-tinted room. Bright
flowers were prettily arranged on a table beside
my bed, and through the half-opened window
came the soft, gentle spring wind, laden with the
balmy perfume from the freshly-budding trees.
I tried to rise, but fell back helpless. There
was a slight noise, and I saw the door open and
a lady enter. She was a stranger to me, yet
something about her attracted my attention.
She was not beautiful, but there was a look of
nobleness about her — an expression of holiness
and purity that told of a lofty soul. Her eyes
were of a soft, dark grey, and filled with a
gentle, tender light as they rested on me.

** Who are you ? " I asked, in a weak voice,
" and how came I here ? "

" Hush ! " she said softly, and her voice
sounded like music in my ears, " you have been
very ill, and you must not talk now — you are
too weak." She gently raised my head and
pressed to my parched lips some cooling draught,
which I eagerly drank and then sank back
exhausted.

1
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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

f f'i i j

This feeling of weakness was new to mc, and
it seemed strange that I, who had been so strong,
was now as weak and helpless as an infant. A
drowsiness came over me which I could not
resist, and I fell into a refreshing slumber that
lasted until night.

When I awoke, my brain was much clearer,
and I looked around for the lady who had so
greatly attracted me in the morning. She
was not in the room ; there was only an old
gentleman — a venerable looking man — who was
quietly reading by the aid of a subdued light.
On perceiving that I was awake, he arose and
came towards me.

*' I am glad to see you better," he said heartily.
*' I have to thank you for saving my daughter's
life. But for you she might now be lying cold
in death, and I have much to thank you for."

As he spoke it all came back to me — the
scene where I had tried to stop the infuriated
animal. How vividly I remembered that I was
in search of vengeance ! and I could not repress
a groan as I thought of it.

" How long have I been here } " I asked,
faintly.

'• Over two weeks," he replied ; "you received

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nRICIlTER SPHERES.

a severe wound in the head, which caused a
slight attack of brain fever."

" Rose is undoubtedly beyond my reach by
this time," I thought, with a sigh. And then
I wondered about the noble face I had seen in
the morning. Was it real ? or was it only some
vision of my fever-distorted brain }

" I will leave you now," the old gentleman
said, " but I will send Alice to you ; she has
been your devoted nurse all through."

" Who can Alice be .-* " I wondered, as he left
me. I was not long left in doubt. She soon
entered — a gentle, graceful figure, in her soft,
grey dress — and I recognized the face that I
had been thinking about, and wondered what
it was about her that attracted me. Afterwards
I knew that it was the very purity and loftiness
of her soul that acted like a magnet on my
guilty nature.

* You have been very kind," I said softly, as
she came towards me, " to one who was a stran-
ger to you."

*' * I was a stranger, and you took me in,' " she
quoted, sitting down beside me, "and have I
nothing to thank you for ? How can I look
upon you as a stranger, when you saved me

liklGIITER SPHERES.

from a serious accident, and risked your own life
in the act ? "

" Ah ! " I said, " then you were the lady who
was seated in the dog-cart."

" Yes," she said with a shudder. " It was an
awful time, and when I saw you go down under
the horse's feet I was sure you were killed. As
soon as you fell, several others came to my
assistanee. I had you brought here in a cab,
and have tried in vain to find out your friends."

" I have no friends," I said sadly. " I am alone
in the world."

" Poor man ! " she said gently, " but now you
will not say that ; you must look upon my father
and myself as friends."

I took her outstretched hand and grasped it
warmly, for something in her manner inspired
my confidence.

" If you will take me into your friendship, I
shall be so glad," I murmured ; " and some da\',
if you will kindly listen, I will tell you thestor\'
of my life, and how it is that I am friendless."

" I would like it," she said, softly. " I too
have had my trials : death has taken many
loved ones from me ; yet I look forward to the

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liRIGIlTER SPIIERIwS,

time when wc shall be united, where there is no
more sorrow — no more death."

I could not help smiling at the blindness of
her faith.

" Do you believe in another life ? " I asked.
" Do you really believe there is a God ? "

She regarded me for an instant in silent
amazement.

" Don't talk like that," she said, with a
shudder. " You cannot be in earnest — of
course I believe in a God, and in a future life
also ; if I did not, I believe I should go mad."

" And yet," I said with a sigh, " I cannot
believe it. I have tried and found nc founda-
tion for it — no proof."

" It is too bad," she said, with a sigh ; " you
have missed a great joy and comfort in your
life. But God does all for the best ; I think you
were sent here for a purpose."

I thought, sadly, of my past life — so full of
sin — and was silent.

" We will speak of this some other time," she
said ; " you are tired now, and I will leave you "
— and, with a smile, she left me.

But I was now comforted and cheered, for I
felt that I was no longer friendless and alone ;

BRIGHTER SPUE RES,

and there were still prospects of a new life. The
old thoughts of hatred and revenge had van-
ished. I did not dare to think of Rose, but
longed to be something better, nobler, than I
had been. I wanted to be worthy of the trust
of my new friends.

Is it ever reached — this striving for perfec-
tion ? Not on earth ; only when the cold mists
have vanished, and the shadow of death has
passed, then is that perfect, glorious peace
reached ! !

I fell asleep — a sweet, dreamless sleep that
lasted till day-break. I soon began tc recover
my strencftb In the pure atmosphere aro>md
me T saw how I had wasted m.y life, and I
found all the old temptations powerless.

"vh )>.

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100

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

:jT'«

CHAPTER X.

MY NEW FRIENDS.

At the time of which I write there lived in the
City of Montreal a man named Dalton, a man
remarkable for his Christian charity, and of the
highest mental culture. He was a widower,
with an only child, Alice, the young lady I had
rescued. Words of mine are inadequate to
describe the goodness and pureness of her life.
She possessed a character of the noblest, loftiest
type, and I looked on in silent wonder at the life
she was leading — so full of thought for those
around her, so utterly forgetful of self: no
stricken heart but felt the cheering comfort of her
presence ; no dying sufferer but felt the hopeful-
ness of her prayers. It was a life of self-sacrifice
and usefulness, — a life wherein she followed in
the footsteps of the Master she professed. I see
her now, as I saw her then, a pure and gentle
spirit ministering words of hope to some despair-
ing sinner, or soothing the anguish of some dis-

BRIGHTER SPHERED.

to I

tracted brain ; and again, leading some wander-
ing sheep back into the Shepherd's fold.

Such were the people who taught me the
meaning of friendship, and proffered me the
hospitahty of their home — me, the outcast and
the sinner ; and, day by day, their kindness to
me was unlimited.

As soon as I grew a little stronger, Mr.
Dalton promised me employment in his office,
and I was determined he should find me straight-
forward and honest.

T now spent most of my time reclining on a
sofa in the sitting-room. My chief delight was
when Alice would come to me, ever cheering
me with the brightness of her presence. One
day she entered a little sadly, for she had just
left a death-bed scene in the neighborhood, and
the imprint of it seemed still upon her.

" You are wearing yourself out," I said to
her ; " you look quite pale and tired."

"I am a little tired," she said, wearily; "I
hate to witness suffering. I have just seen a
mother dying, surrounded by her weeping, help-
less children ; and I have been wondering why
it is that God sometimes takes away those
who are wanted on earth, while those who are
despairing, and oft-times praying to die, live on."

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102

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

%i\f\

" Yes," I replied, " that is one proof that there
is no God : the world is so full of suffering and
sorrow. If there was a God, He would not be
so cruel. I am only human, yet I could not
listen unmoved to all the despairing cries of the
human race."

" Hush ! " she cried, shrinking from me, " do
not try to instil your miserable doubts into my
soul. There is a God ; I know it, feel it, and
will yet prove it."

" If I could ever learn to believe in Him, it
would be from you," I answered ; " all you
could ever teach would be good ; still my doubt-
ing heart cries out for proof. How is it that you
trust so blindly ? What proof have you, for
instance, that there is another life beyond this ? "

" An instinct," she replied. " If I had no
Bible, there is a something within me which I
feel can never die. Even the poor Indian, in
his savage, untaught ignorance, feels this
instinct when he speaks of his happy hunting-
grounds. How could I bear to think of the
future, so ageless, endless, and of the millions
of souls that have lived and passed away, if I
thought there was no Supreme Being who
governed all ! "

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

lo.

"But," I persisted, "even if your Bible be
true, it proclaims Him to be an unjust God.
You believe Him omniscient : if so. He knows
the sins and crimes a man is to commit when
he is born ; yet for those very sins that man is
condemned to eternal punishment. Think of the
countless thousands of people living in poverty
and vice, miserable in life, yet dreading death, —
for they are taught to believe that nothing but
doom awaits them."

" You are wrong," she said quietly ; " the
same Bible that speaks of eternal punishment
also speaks of forgiveness ; man is sinful and
always will be so, and * the wages of sin is
death ' ; yet, through the merits of Christ, all
can be pardoned."

" That is another mistake," I interrupted ;
" there never existed such a Man ; He is an
impossible character."

"You are talking of something you don't
understand," she replied to me : " He is the most
perfect and purest of characters — perfect God
and perfect man — and the day will come when
you will acknowledge Him."

" You are so good," I murmured ; " I wonder
that you don't despise my ignorant sneers."

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104

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

$M^.

i, : t

"I am not good," she said ; "I may have
been born with fewer wicked passions than
you. If there is no temptation to struggle
against, it is easy to be good ; but he who
conquers sin and daily struggles with the
promptings of evil, and commands a victory
over self — he is worthy of being called good."

I made no reply. Her words struck me for-
cibly. I felt as if she wished me to struggle
with my doubts of Christianity. Yet I knew how
useless it would be ; nothing seemed to con-
vince me. I would have given much to be able to
say to her, " Thy God shall be my God, and I
will serve Him j" but I could not do this — not
unless I deceived her, and I was man enough
to shrink from that.

Every day after this we spent a short time
together, talking over religion and Christianity.
I was very obstinate, but she had great patience,
and gradually led my darkened mind into the
truth, sometimes taking lessons from nature,
sometimes from her Bible, which was an insepar-
able companion.

One fine, peaceful Sunday, Mr. Dalton ])ro-
poscd that we should ascend the mountain and
view the city from its summit. To this I ca^er-

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

105

\y assented ; and together we drove up, and
alighted when we reached the top. Alice and
I sauntered off to find a favorable point of
view, leaving Mr. Dalton conversing with a
friend he had met.

"See!" Alice exclaimed, "behold the scene
before you, and tell me how you can say there
is no God ! How can you account for this
creation — the exquisite coloring of the land-
scape and the abundance of life around us ? "

It was indeed a scene worthy of admiration.
Below us lay the city, calm and quiet in the
evening mists ; and onward the waters of the
St. Lawrence flowed, numerous islands resting
peacefully on its bosom ; while on the other
side spread the blue outline of mountains.

" Is there nothing in this," my companion
asked, " that appeals to your soul .? Is there no
inspiration in the lovely landscape ) nothing
in the soft sighing of the summer wind that
creates in your soul a longing for a nobler life }
To me it is the surest proof of God's existence.
I see His handiwork all around me in the varied
year, v/hether in the soft splendor of summer,
or the hoary majesty of winter ; and if He has
made this passing world so fair, how much

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

better must that home be that He has in store
for us ? "

"I wish I had your faith," I answered; "how
bHndly you trust !"

" No, not blindly," she replied ; " I trust be-
cause I believe, I do not understand how
anyone can be so doubting ; even the very
birds seem to be singing the praises of God,
and my heart goes out in silent admiration —
first to nature, then on to nature's God."

"If there is a God, why is there so much
misery in the world ? " I asked ; " why is H e
cruel?"

" You are mistaken," she answered ; " we
must not question His divine will ; whatever lie
does is for the best ; * whom He loveth Me
chasteneth.' "

** And do you believe," I asked, incredulously,
" that man, after suffering misery in this world,
is to be eternally punished in another life ?
Take myself, for instance — do you think I
merit eternal punishment for those doubts that
I cannot help ? "

" No," she answered ; " for I believe they
will all pass away, and you will regret them.
You have told me that you were brought up

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

107

away from home — among unbelievers — and
without any loving voice to teach you right from
wrong. I think that you are not responsible
for being so doubting. I wish you would
study the life of Christ ; it would help you to
understand what now seems so dark."

'• No," I said, " if anything ever convinces me,
it will be your teachings. I have read the life of
Christ, and it made no impression on me; I
looked upon it as fiction — the offspring of
imagination."

" Oh ! " she said, softly, and a holy light
seemed to illuminate her countenance, ** I love
to picture Him in His earthly life, partaking of
our human nature, yet God, suffering the sneers
of man. Again, I see Him treading the plains of
Galilee — a man of many sorrows ; yet, although
rejected by man, the world around Him knew
He was no impostor. At His word the tempests
hushed their angry tumult, and the wild waves
ceased their surging when He murmured, ' Peace,
be still.'"

I made no answer.

" And," she continued, "you say that His life is
the result of imagination ; but no man living at
that period could have imagined such a pure

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

and holy character. His very doctrines pro-
claimed Him God. The prophets of old fell
from grace, but in Him there was found no sin."

Mr. Dalton here joined us, and we /etraced
our steps, for night was already casting her
mantle of darkness over all the landscape.

I was silent during our homeward drive ; some-
thing within me seemed too deep for utterance.
I retired early to my own room. Alice had gone
to church.

" What has come over me .'* " I asked myself
in the solitude of my room, as I stood at the
open window gazing into the darkness. Once
I would have laughed at the notion of being a
Christian ; now all is different. " If there is a
God, why have I not known Him ? " I thought,
sadly, " why has He forgotten me.? and if there
is another life, how can I enter it } How can
my guilty soul float out alone into the ageless,
endless eternity "i " It was all too much for me ;
I could not grasp the truth ; I could not yet
believe.

Like a flash, the image of a pure face rose
before me — a face illumined with a heavenlv
light, the soft, grey eyes shining with unspoken
thoughts that indicated a lofty soul. I started

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

109-

as the truth came suddenly upon me. I loved
her! Yes, strive as I would, I could not hide
the truth ; I, the outcast, the guilty, sin-stained
wretch, dared to love her, who was as far above
me as light above the darkness. It was no pass-
ing fancy, no fragile love to be easily cast aside.
I loved her with all the strength of my man-
hood, with a love that could never die. And
oh ! the misery of the thought : I was not free
to love ; Rose was, no doubt, still living, and she
was still my wife. I think if it had been in the
old days, and any other woman but Alice, I
would have wooed and won her, and said
nothing of Rose. Now all was changed ; the
very purity of her nature protected her. " I
might as well try to grasp yonder star in the
heavens," I thought, " she would despise me, if she
knew I had dared to love her. But no, she would
only pity me, perhaps even pray for me." It was
the bitterest hour of my life. I cursed the fate
that brought me no joy, no peace in life. And
then softer thoughts came to me. I knelt down,
alone in my misery, at the open window, and
pillowed my aching head. " O God ! " I cried^
" if you exist, why have you deserted me } why
IS my life so full of anguish ? why have yoa

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

implanted this love within me, when it can only
result in misery ? "

All through the long, still hours of the night,
I remained there, struggling with my anguish,
fighting the hardest of all battles — a war with
myself. In that struggle all the evil within me
seemed to die. I felt as if my love had created
within me a purer, better spirit ; and that hence-
forth I would live to be worthy of it.

O Thou great God, who dost behold all the
heartfelt yearning of an anguished soul, I think
in that hour Thou didst pity me ; I think some
spirit of mercy, direct from Thee, whispered to
my wounded heart sweet words of hope !

And as the morning dawned the good within
me conquered. I would go away, far from this
peaceful spot where I had been so happy. I
knew it would be useless to live in her presence
and try to hide my love ; so it was best that I
should go; and she should never know how
dearly I had loved her, for the knowledge would
but cause her pain. I knew my life would be
dreary without her. I should be sure to relapse
into the old, guilty life. But no, the very
memory of her would be enough to restrain me.
She would be my guiding star; and for her
sake I would lead the life she had taught me.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

CHAPTER XI.

BLIGHTED HOPES.

I HID my secret well, but it was weary work.
I was loth to leave yet the scene when; I had
been so happy, and I lingered on through the
summer months until the autumn leaves were
falling.

One evening I had just returned home from
work, for I was now employed by Mr. Dalton.
I was silently thinking over the future, as I
knew that this life could not go on much longer.
I carelessly picked up an old newspaper from
the table, and was startled to see my own
initials heading a '' personal " paragraph, which
read as follows :

• " Arthur R. — Forgive the past. I am alone and
dying at the old place. — Rose."

I felt the blood receding from my face, and a
cold, death-like feeling swept over me. I looked
at the date of the paper; it was a week old.
What was I to do > At first I thought that I

112

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

would tell Alice all, and ask her advice. Then
I shrank from it, for I thought she would per-
haps regard me with horror when she came to
hear the recital of my life; she was so pure
and good, she would not understand how I
had listened to the voice of evil. I was
tempted to take no notice of the " personal " ; but
just then Alice happened to enter the room.
She looked so fair, so saintly, that at sight of
her my better nature prevailed.

"Tell me," I said, turning to her, "if a man
is deeply wronged, is he not justified in hating
the one who has spoiled his life ? Would you,
if any one injured you beyond repair — would
you forgive him ? "

" I think so," she said softly, a look of sur-
prise dawning in her grey eyes as she saw my
emotion. "Take Christ for your example al-
ways ; see the sublime purity of His life : He
forgave those who wronged Him ; and how can
any one hate a soul that He loves ! You
know," she added, " that * to err is human, to

» i>

forgive is divine

Her sweet words decided me, and I deter-
mined to see Rose and forgive the past — for-
give, though in the end it would surely cause
me pain.

BRIGHTER SPirEKES.

It was Rose who had inserted the paragraph,
of that I had no doubt ; but I did not believe
she was dying — that was only a trick of hers to
entrap me. She was probably deserted by the
partner of her flight, and sought to try and
obtain aid from me. By " the old place " I
surmised that she meant our former lodgings ;
and there I went without any delay. The
landlady, a sprightly little /"renchwoman,
received me with an agitated manner. " You
are too late, sir," she said, as I entered.

"What do you mean?" I asked; "is Mrs.
Rogers not here } "

"She was here," the woman answered; "she
came to me about three weeks ago. She was
very sick and I * done ' my best for her, but all
in vain. She seemed repentant, and tried hard
to find you."

" Do you know where she is now .'* " I inter-
rupted.

" She left here in a dying state," the woman

replied, " saying that she was going to sonic

friends in Boston ; and last week I received a

letter stating that she was dying, and that is all

I can tell you ; she is probably dead by this

time."

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114

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

I asked for the letter, and she gave it to me.
I lost no time, but went home and wrote to the
address stated, for I was determined to know
the truth. I wanted to hear whether I was
free, or still bound to one I now considered
unworthy of any man's regard. I wondered
how [ had ever been so foolish as to imagine I
loved her. It was only an infatuation, a pass-
ing love, that I now regarded as a dream.

An answer came quickly to my letter, which
put an end to my suspense. The writer was a
stranger to me, and briefly informed me that
my wife was dead. It never occurred to me to
doubt the truth of this statement. I was only
startled, for I had never thought of her dying,
she had always been so full of life and seldom
sick ; and I could hardly realize that she, for
whose smiles men had fought, and whose beauty
women had envied, was dead. It is ever thus :
the young and beautiful pass away, even as the
old and feeble. It was strange to think of her
as dead, her rich' glowing beauty faded into
nothing. Yet, mingled with the thoughts of
her, came a sweet thrill to my heart, as I
suddenly remembered that there was now no
living barrier existing between Alice and me.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

«i5

But could she, one of the purest and noblest of
women, link her fate with mine — :he guilty
sinner ?

I resolved to test her feelings towards me.
She had ever been kind, patient and gentle with
me ; her sweet, innocent nature never suspected
the deep love I entertained for her.

One evening, I strayed out into the autumn
air. A slight wind was stirring among the
vari-colored leaves of the trees, and many of
them fluttered to the [ground at my feet. I
went into the faded garden, where the fitful
moonlight was casting ghostly shadows. Here
I resolved to await the coming of Alice. She
had gone on some visit of charity, but I knew
slic would soon return. In this I was right ; I
soon beheld her coming towards me, and I
stepped forward to meet her. She gave a start
of surprise on seeing me.

" You ! " she said, with the tender smile I knew
so well.

" Yes," I answered, " I have been waiting for
you ; I have something to tell you."

" What is it ? " she asked.

" Do you remember," I asked, " my once tell-
ing you that I would one day relate to you the
story of my life ? Will you listen to it now } "

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ii6

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

She nodded her head in silent assent, and I
began and told her all my past life, with its
weakness and sin, the same as I have already-
described to the reader. I omitted nothing-
save the date of Rose's death ; I merely told
her that I had proof of that fact.

I half expected Alice to shrink from me during
the recital of my crimes, but she never changed
the sweet expression of her countenance.

" Now," I exclaimed, when I had finished,
" you know what a sinner I have been ; despise
me if you will, but remember that I knew no
other life. I had no one to teach me of that
life the Christian leads. Will you be my judge^
and tell me if I am beyond redemption .'* "

** Who am I } " she said, *' that I should judge
you } How could I know the conflictings of
your soul — that soul so wondrous, created
after God's image. Who but He shall dare to
judge it.?"

" But," I cried, " will you not speak some
word of comfort to me .? You always help me
so much ; you have already persuaded me that
there is a God. I now believe in a Supreme
Being who governs the Universe, but further
than that I cannot believe."

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

117

" It will all come in God's own time," she
answered. " He will one day banish all the
doubts, and lead you safely into His eternal
home."

" Ah," I said, in a despondent tone, " my
faith is so weak ; it is only you who can help
me. I love you — fondly, devotedly love you !
But why do you shrink from me } Arc you angry
because of this love which I cannot control }
How could I help it } How could I live in the
sunshine of your presence, and behold the noble
self-sacrifice of your life, and not love you } Am
I so despicable, so hateful in your sight, that
you shrink from me in horror } "

" No," she replied, with a troubled look, " it is
not that ; but I have never thought of such a
thing. I have planned out for myself a life so
different, a life spent in the Master's cause, which
I would live alone, caring for His wandering
sheep, feeding His hungry lambs."

*' Why alone .'* " I pleaded ; " with you to help
me, I could embrace your doctrines and accept
your faith. We would work together, you and
I, and we should be so happy ; but," I added,
sadly, " you do not think me worthy of your
trust."

immfmmmmm

Il8

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

" You do not understand," she said, in a low
tone : " I do not think you so bad ; indeed, I
have watched well, and I believe that you
possess many noble qualities that only await
development."

" Then," I cried in a voice of entreaty, " help
me to attain a better life. You alone can save
me. If you will not marry me, if you send me
from you, I am lost."

She made no sign, but I saw that she shivered
slightly, and she turned so that I could not see
her face.

** Very well," I said, sadly. " I see that I am
abhorrent to you. I will not trouble you again.
I will go from you now, back to the old life, so
full of sin and misery ; and some day when you
stand face to face with that God you profess to
love, how then will you be able to answer for
the soul you might have saved ? "

I turned as if to leave her, but she grasped
my arm ; " Stay," she gasped ; " for the present
you have won ; I stand amidst conflicting duty,
— my own plans on one side, you on the other.
I cannot bear to picture you back in the old
life, lonely and cheerless. Ho who implanted
that love within you, must have done so with a

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

119

purpose, and I bow in deep submission to His
will."

" My darling ! " I cried in rapture ; " you have
made me so happy. You shall never repent
those blessed words. You have given me some-
thing to live for; life seems no longer empty
and cheerless."

" But you must not be too sanguine," she
interrupted. " I cannot marry you while you
are an unbeliever ; no happiness would result
from it. When you become an honest Christian,
then you can speak to me of marriage."

" Is not that hope sufficient to sustain mc } "
I replied. '* I will work so hard to be worthy
of your trust. I will find no labor too difficult,
no task too arduous, if in the end I can but win
your love."

"I feel as if it will turn out all right," she
replied. " I think that He who imposed this
duty on me will bless it with success ; and we
can safely leave the future in His hands."

The hour was getting late and we went into
the house. The days that followed were happy
ones for me — the happiest I was ever to know
on earth. There seemed no cloud to darken the
brightness of the future. I studied hard to

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

overcome my doubts about Christianity. Alice
read much to me on the subject, and I had
gradually come to believe in a God, though I
could not yet believe in an eternal life. Some-
times in the solitude of the night I would argue
the matter out with myself. " Was it possible,"
1 asked myself, "that there 'vere separate states
of existence beyond the grave — one for the
good, and one for the bad } If so, there would
be only misery in such an existence. People
separated from those they loved on earth^ — how
could they be happy, knowing that their loved
ones suffered ? " If it was true, Alice would
surely be among the good, and I cast among the
worthless. "Was there any truth in it .^ " I
wondered. " Was it possible that when I should
resign this earthly body I should still exist,
a conscious being, capable of enduring pain or
experiencing joy } No, it could not be ! " I
believed that when a man died he became
nothing — mingled with the dust.

Alice talked much to me about this doubt.
** Why can you not believe } " she would say,
sadly. " Surely, He who made us did not do
so for this passing world. Of what use would it
be to create souls if they were all to perish and
become nothing! "

J 1. 1

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

Z8I

Poor girl, it pained her to see me so doubt-
ing; yet I could not help it. She now asked
me frequently to accompany her to church ; but,
although I went, I did not seem convinced. I
used to like much better to go with her on some
mission of charity, which I invariably did, and
in this way saw the different phases of life,

I began to hope that I was gaining favor in
the eyes of Alice. I beHeved that she was not
quite indifferent to me, and a sweet hope thrilled
me as I thought perhaps I was gaining her love.

All this time I did not hear anything more
of Rose's death. I had written twice, but
received no answer. This I thought strange,
and determined to go to the address stated in
the letter I had received, and obtain particulars
for myself. The winter had now set in, and
Alice kept me very busy helping her to look
after the poor.

One evening we had just returned from a
long tramp through ice and snow, and were
enjoying the genial glow of the bright fire.

" I feel unusually joyful to-night," Alice said
to me in an undertone. " Let us have some
music."

"Yes," I eagerly assented; "do sing some

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138

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

of your sacred songs ; they may awaken some
responsive chord within my heart."

She selected " Rock of Ages," and seemed to
pour out her trusting faith in the sweet words.
I stood silent beside her: but when she came
to the last verse, I could not help joining in the
refrain, " Rock of Ages, cleft forme, let me hide
myself in thee."

Before the last words died away, I heard the
door open and some one enter, but did not
turn round, thinking it was Mr. Dalton. Alice
was the first to logk to see who it was, and then
I saw her rise with a surprised look. " What is
it ? " I heard her say : " did you wish to see
me ? "

Then I looked ; and as I did so, I could feel all
the joy within me die. It seemed to me as if
everything around me was fading from my sight.
A female figure stood just inside the door, with
a mocking smile on her lips — a smile that sent an
icy chill to my heart, for I knew it so well. I
recognized her in spite of the ravages of illness,
and the changes dissipation had made in her
once beautiful countenance, I knew her in
spite of the dishevelled hair, the worn-out
garments. It was Rose, alive and standing in

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

133

the flesh before me, ready to dash the cup of
happiness from me.

" What do you want, my good woman ? "
Alice asked again.

" What do I want ? " Rose repeated. " Ask
him ! " she added, pointing to me. " Ask my
husband ! " She seated herself in the nearest
chair and gazed defiantly at me, while Alice,
grown strangely white, looked from one to the
other of us.

" Leave us," I said to her, hoarsely. " Leave
me to deal with that woman ; this is no scene
for you."

" Yes, it is," she returned, quietly. " I think
I understand it all; and I had better stay.
Besides, this poor woman may need my assist-
tance ; she looks quite faint. If you go down-
stairs you will find some wine in the dining-
room ; please bring some up ; it will revive her."

Dear, gentle soul ! she only saw a creature in
distress, no matter how great her sin, how deep
her crimes. Rose, with her pale, emaciated
features, was still a fellow-creature who needed
help.

I rose to comply with Alice's request. She
had seen that I was in no mood to be trusted

124

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

alone with the woman who had so cruelly
wronged me, and thought by sending me from the
room my anger would have time to cool. I let
my eyes rest upon her for an instant, and I per-
ceived, with a thrill of anguish, that she suffered ;
h^^r clear eyes had in them a wounded look,
that told of a sensitive soul apprehensive of
suffering. Yet even as she met my gaze, she
tried to smile bravely, as if bidding me be of
good cheer. I knew that she suffered because I
did, and the very thought of it was anguish to
me. It was not of herself she was thinking, but
of me. It crushed me to think that I, who fain
would have crowned her life with every blessing,
was the first to cause her sorrow.

Oh my darling ! how trifling it all seems now,
as viewed from the height of our superior
wisdom ! When we look back upon those earthly
scenes so fraught with anguish, how little do
they appear! and how we wonder they ever
pained us ! — of the earth, earthly and swiftly
passing away. O ye people, who are in grief,
in sorrow or misery, why do ye lament and
mourn your fate ? Know ye not that a change
soon comes, and that for all ye suffer your
reward shall be great ? Not a silent tear, not an

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

125

anguished cry but your God beholds; and His
word changeth not. It was no vain promise
that He made when He said : " Blessed are
they that mourn, for they shall be comforted."

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

CHAPTER XII.

PARTED.

I FOUND the wine that Alice had sent me for,
and returned with it, dazed and stupefied by
the sudden blow that had fallen on my hopes
When I reached the half-open door the sound
of my name caused me to pause, involuntarily.
It was Rose speaking to Alice. " You do not
love him," she was saying, "or you would not
so easily give him up. If you will give me
money enough to start a new life, I will go
away and never trouble either of you again.
You can marry him if you wish. I will be the
same as if dead."

I listened for the reply, curious as to how
Alice would receive this evil suggestion.

"Would you have me become vi^ base and
sinful as yourself? " was the reply. " You have
formed a wrong opinion of me. if 1 loved him
ever so dearly, still would I renounce him ; he
is bound to you."

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

127

"You arc taking a very foolish view of t'.ic
matter," Rose answered. " He will be only too
glad to see the last of mc. I know he is in love
with you."

'* There are many kinds of love," Alice re-
plied ; " there is that deep and holy love which
passeth all understanding, and the pure love
that lives forever," — I waited to hear no more,
but entered the room.

"Now," I said, sternly, "in the presence of
the noble woman I love, I ask you why you
have duped and tricked me ? "

" I may as well tell you," she answered ; " I
see it is useless to hide the truth from you.
When Latondal abandoned me, sick and friend-
less, I returned to our old lodging-house, think-
ing to find some trace of you, but all in vain. I
remembered a friend I had in Boston, some
years before, and to her I went. There I slowly
recovered a little strength ; and then came
your letter of inquiry, and I told them to report
me as dead. I thought perhaps you would
marry again, and I could then extort an income
from you as hush money ; but I see I have
appeared too early on the scene," A hollow
cough interrupted her flow of words, and she

128

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

looked weak and exhausted. " It is no use
glaring at me like that," she said to me ; " I
have not long to live; and if I have sinned, I
have suffered."

" If you only want money," I said, "here,
take it and go, and never let me see your
cursed face again."

" Hush ! " Alice interposed. '* How can you
talk like that } Surely you, who have need of
forgiveness, can forgive ! "

I drew back with a shudder. " No," I said,
in an undertone, " I cannot."

"Poor creature!" Alice went on; "if she
should die to-night you would regret it."

** For your sake, my darling," I whispered ;
then, turning to Rose I held out my hand :
" Here," I said, " I am willing to help you ; I will
see that you do not want for anything."

Words of this kind crushed her more than
anger would have done ; and, as Alice led her
gently from the room, I saw the tear-drops
glistening in her eyes.

For a long time after they left me I paced
the floor in silent agony.

" Fool that I was," I thought, bitterly, '« to
dream that any joy or peace could ever enter

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

129

my cursed life. Oh, that I were dead and free
from all this misery ! "

I cast myself helplessly into a chair. Some-
thing like a sob seemed to rise in my throat
and stick there, as I thought of parting from
Alice. Soft footsteps sounded on the carpet,
but I did not lift my head ; a gentle hand was
la»d on my arm, with a sympathetic touch — a
touch that would have had power to recall me
from the dead ; it was Alice come to comfort
me in my misery.

•' Bear it bravely," she whispered ; " God
sometimes punishes sin in this world that the
penalty may be lessened in the next."

" Don't talk to me of your God," I replied ;
" He has forgotten me."

"Don't say that," she pleaded; "have all
my teachings been in vain ? It would break
my heart if you were to turn atheist again."

" What does it matter ? " I answered ; " I
don't care now what becomes of me."

" But you must," she replied. " I think there
are many happy days in store for you. Do you
think I have not suffered also } Did you think
I - uld lightly lose you just as you were
beginning to be useful to .ne } But I have

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130

BRiGin'ER SriIIlRES.

conquered it. I know that God does all for the
best." I raised my eyes and gazed at her, and
I saw that she had been praying ; all the misery
had died from her eyes, and instead they shone
with the light of faithfulness and trust.

" Why need we be unhappy ? " I said. " I
will get divorced from that creature, and then
we can be married."

** No," she answered, " that would be useless;
though the laws of man would pronounce you
free, yet in the eyes of God that woman would
still be your wife."

*' Don't remind me of her," I protested.
" Let us forget her. Fly with me to some dis-
tant land. Don't be eternally thinking of a
future. There is no other life. Why not be
happy in this ? "

Slowly she drew back from me, an expression
i)f sorrow settling on her features ; it was her
first strong temptation, but she never wavered
for an instant.

" Don't talk to me in that manner," she said,
*' or you will teach me to despise you. What
have I ever done that you should think so little
of me ? "

Her whole attitude was so expressive of
sorrow that I cursed my hasty words.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

131

" Forgive me," I pleaded ; " I am not myself
to-night. Speak one word of forgiveness, and I
will leave you and pass from your life forever.''

Then she looked sadly at me. " Do you
think that I would be any happier for that ? "
she answered : " I too suffer ; yet I know that it
is all for the best. If you will go to some
friends of mine, I know that you will find a
comfortable refuge. They are a clergyman and
his aged wife. If anyone can make a Christian
of you, it is he. If you will go to them, I will
write at once; they live in Western Canada."

" What does it matter } " I said, in a despon-
dent tone ; "since I am to go from you, I don't
care what becomes of me."

"Well, I will go and write to them," she
answered ; " you had better try and get some
rest."

I almoft laughed at the idea, as she left me.
R^'s^ ! i felt as if I should never know any
rest ui. earth again.

The next day Rose left for Boston, well
supplied with money. She seemed overcome
by the kindness shown her, and promised to
lead a repentant life. I told her as soon as I
v: ., settled in my new home I would write to

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

Alice received a favorable reply to her letter,
and it was decided that I should start the next
Monday. She would have liked to have seen a
complete reconciliation between Rose and my-
self, but I told her it was impossible ; that it was
better we should each work out repentance
separately.

My last Sunday with the Daltons was a sad
one. Alice gave me many good instructions,
and promised to ,^i3v earnestly for me. Never
shall forget our pai ; scene. It was a beau-
tiful winter's morning ; the freshly fallen snow
sparkled and glistened in the rays of the sun ;
the whole landscape was completely covered
with a mantle of white ; even the branches of
the trees were laden with it.

Alice stood in the doorway — a figure as pure
and spotless as the snow around her — a brave
smile resting on her features as she murmured
" farewell."

" Farewell ! " how sad the word, yet how
different its meaning ! To Alice it meant only
a brief farewell.

" We will meet again," she whispered ; " if not
on earth, it will be in that other life where all is
joy."

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

«3:

To me it meant farewell to all hours of peace,
all moments of joy ; farewell to the fairest and
noblest of God's creatures, the woman I loved.

She had pressed her little Bible into my hand
at parting, and I looked at it sadly. She had
marked out several passages for me to study,
and I determined to do so. One thing pained
me deeply : she had told me not to write to her.

'^ I will hear of your progress from Mr.
Austin," she said ; " if in the end you conquer
all your doubts, it will please me greatly."

I found my new home was in a rustic village,
among a lot of true-hearted Christians. Some-
thing about it reminded me of my boyhood's
home. Mr. and Mrs. Austin were a friendly
old couple, and at once made me feel at home
To Mr. Austin I told a portion of my life, and
frankly recounted to him all my doubts on
Christianity.

"Ah, my boy," he said, " they will one day
pass away. I have met many like you, but in
the end truth conquered."

I now began to lead a life that I knew would
please Alice. Mr. Austin was old, and I helped
him in many ways. Often the dreary night
would find me a still watcher at some sick bed.

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134

BRIG II ILK SriIERES.

For miles around the people began to know me.
I never prayed with them, but I would often
read the Bible at some bedside ; and the people
grew to look upon me as a Christian. Ali
doubt as to the existence ff a God was now re-
moved from me; it was the other dogmas of
Christianity that I could not master. In that
village home I learnt many lessons of patience
and self-denial. No sin seemed to tempt me,
for in that peaceful spot there lurked no evil.
Mr. Austin was ever ready to help me with
friendly counsel and advice. He it was who
first awoke me to a consciousness of my danger.
" Repent," he v.odlo say, " while there is time,
for no man knoweth the day nor the hour of
death's call."

I would listen silently to it all, pondering over
each word. Oh, the burden of a guilty con-
science ! how I wrestled with the wild throbbing
of my sinful soul ! The wrong:, I had inflicted on
Maud rose vividly before my heated imagina-
tion, until it seemed to me that I was past re-
demption. Oft in the silent hours of night,
visions would seem to float around me — visions
of Maud, not with celestial brow nor crown of
glory, for I believed it not j but I conjured her

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

»35

as of old, with sad face and reproachful c)cs,
that seemed to accuse me of being the cause of
her untimely death.

Those were my darkest hours ; yet, mingled
with this misery, came sweet memories of Alice,
like an oasis in the desert of my life. The time
was when I could have cursed the fate that had
thrown me in her path, since it was but to lose
her when apparently won. Now I was glad
that I had known her, glad to have loved her.

About this time I received a letter from Rose.
By its contents I surmised that she was un-
happy. The illness she was suffering from at
our last meeting had terminated in consumption.
I sent her all the money I could spare, and
though I felt it was my duty to go to her, I
could not do so just then — the wrongs of the
past were too vividly before me.

Why is human nature so obstinate, I wonder ?
Thou blessed Creator of mankind, who dost im-
plant in the souls of men passions which they
cannot control, how wonderful is Thy patience I
how forbearing Thy judgment! Here in the
Spirit world is seen Thy perfection ! Here in
these spheres of knowledge is known Thy love !

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136

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

CHAPTER XIII.

FREE AT LAST.

One morning I received a letter from Rose, and,
after reading it, I concluded to go to her. " The
end is approaching fast," she wrote, *' and soon
you will be free."

I knew if Alice were near me, she would bid
me go ; and for her sake I went. Ah, what a
strange meeting that was ! how different to what
I ever expected ! Rose, the dying, repentant
sinner, was a different being to the woman who
had wronged me ; and, at sight of her suffering,
all resentment died from my heart.

" It is so good of you to come," she murmured,
faintly ; " I did not expect it."

And now came a heavy trial for me. Da\'
after day she would question me as to the life
beyond — that life so dim and uncertain — upon
whose borderlands she stood. Alas! what could
I tell her ? How could I comfort her }

" Once, in the long ago, I could pray," she
murmured ; " now, I have forgotten how."

BRIGHTER Sr [HIRES.

137

Tenderly I read to her the story of Christ's
love for sinners. How eagerly she grasped the
truth, how readily she believed it all! "There
is hope for me then," she would say ; " surely
He who was so meek, so patient, so humble,
will forgive. I am no longer afraid. Christ, so
kind, so good, will not desert a repentant sinner."

Poor trusting heart, no shadow of a doubt
came to mar the tranquillity of her mind. She
trusted in the Saviour's promises much more
readily than I did. She believed, yet she had
no proof beyond what I had read to her.

She spoke no more of a life beyond the grave.
*' I know there is one," she said. " What it will
be for me I know not, but oh, the regret, the
misery of the thought, that I have lived in vain ! "

1 lingerer^ by her side for two or three weeks,
patiently waiting for the end. It was pitiful to
behold her suffering; yet, through it all she
never murmured. Once she spoke to me of
Alice. " When I am dead," she said, '* I hope
you will marry her ; she is a good woman, and
the first night I saw her, I perceived the con-
trast between us. Tell her I died trusting in
the Master she loves."

The end came at dawn of the next day. I

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138

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

held her hand in mine, and, at her request, I
repeated the Lord's prayer. It was the first
time I had truly prayed. As I did so, a flood
of holy light seemed to illumine my soul, and I
knew that I had found th^ truth at last- As I
repeated the last words, a smile flitted over tlic
dying features before me. Gently the angel of
death loosened her weary spirit, and it fled. I
stood beside her, silent and motionless, trusting
that she had found the Saviour as merciful as
He was represented to be; and as I stood there
in the dim light and unbroken silence, T vowed
to live a life of amendment in the future, and
atone for each sin I had committed.

After a lonely funeral, I returned to Mr.
Austin's ; but not before I had placed a simple
slab of white marble on the grave of her who, in
spite of all her faults, was yet sacred in death.
Strangers often view that lonely grave, and they
know not that underneath it sleeps one of the
most beautiful women the world has ever seen.
Who shall judge her } Reader, surely not you,
nor I ! Can we not safely trust her to that
Saviour who came not to call the just, but the
sinner, to repentance }

For three long months I worked steadily 011

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JiKIClITKR SPIIEKES,

»39

with Mr. Austin. I would have Hked to have
gone straight to Alice, now that I was free to
love her ; but I contented myself with writing her
a full account of what had happened, knowing
that it would please her best if I waited and
curbed my impatience before again seeking her
love. I thought it strange that no answer came
to my letter. Mr. Austin, too, became anxious,
for he had not heard from the Daltons for some
time. I resolved to go to Montreal at once, and
surprise them with a visit. Mr. Austin showed
much regret when I spoke of leaving them.
" Something tells me you will not come back,"
he said ; " but wherever you go, I pray that God
will bless you "

That night — Sunday it was — I stood in the
crowded church listening to his loved voice for
the last time. Every word he spoke seemed
intended for me alone. It all struck me so
forcibly, that I remember it to this day. He
took his text from the third chapter of St. John,
36th verse : " He that believeth on the Son
hath everlasting life ; and he that believeth not
the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God
abideth on him." ** Those words," he continued,
in a reverent tone, " refer to Jesus Christ — Son

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

•\l

of- the living God — who partook of our human
nature, that we might the better understand
Him. Had He come as a conquering king, sur-
rounded with majesty and glory, men would
have shrunk from Him in terror and affright —
even as the Israelites did at Mount Sinai; but
behold, He came as a lowly child, sharing all
the privations and miseries so common to
humanity. Some say Pie was not God ; but, if
He was not God, who was He } Surely no
false prophet ! Surely no ordinary man ! He
must have been God, or He would not have
promised so much. Has He not said, ' I am
with you always.* How could He say this if He
did not possess the power to be always with us }
O ye men of little faith, can you not pierce the
clouds of doubt that surround you, and fly
onward through the dark sea of misery, and
enter in imagination the unknown world, where
you can picture Him in the perfection of glory .?
But if your faith will not do this, then take your
Bible and read carefully His earthly life, and
find there thy proof, O doubting soul."

Some more words followed, and then, after
the usual service, I went alone out into the
moonlight, pondering over the words that had

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BRIG II TER SPHERES.

141

impressed mc. Once I wcuild have laughed at
it all. How often had I ridiculed Christians
and called them superstitious fools! but I re-
gretted it now. How much good mi^;ht have
resulted, had I known the truth in my earlier
years ! No wonder that Alice had shrunk from
the idea of marrying me. I was unwortliN* (f
her in every way. Perhaps now, if I leturned
to her, she would receive me coldly; but, if she
would not marry me, I would be content to live
near her and see her sometimes. Life apart
from her would be a living death : yet, once
married to her, I could become good and noble.
With her to help me I could accor plish great
things, without her I was helpless.

A strange sensation came over me as I
thought of her. It seemed to me that I was
conscious of her presence near me ; and I almost
fancied that I could hear her voice whispering
to me amid the shadows. And then I pictured
her as I had seen her last — a pretty figure in the
snow-bound scenery — and I wondered greatly
how she would receive me. Would it be with
glad surprise, or cold displeasure }

I had drawn near to the house and was about
to enter, when I was startled by the figure of a

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n RIG I I TER SPHERES.

man, emerging from the shadow of a tree near
by. As viewed in the rays of the fitful moon-
light, there was something familiar in the attitude
of the form that reminded me of the past.

" Is it you, Arthur ? " he said. And as he
spoke I recognized him. I was face to face with
my father.

*' You ! " I cried, in amazement, ** what brings
you here .'* "

" Come inside," he said, with a sigh, " and I
will tell you all."

I was so utterly astonished by his unexpected
presence that I complied without a word ; and
lo<> ether we entered the house.

" You wonder how I have found you," he
began, after we were seated in my own room.
" 1 heard of you in Boston, where you buried
that woman you called your wife. From there
1 traced you here ; and I am sorry to see you
have fallen so low as this." Here he glanced
contemptuously around the plainly-furnished
room.

" And yet," I answered, " I am about to begin
a life wherein I shall be happier than I have ever
been."

" Rubbish ! " he retorted ; " people make their

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

own happiness, and spoil it, too, very often.
However, I am not here to reproach you with
the past. My other children are dead. I am
now a childless man, whose years perhaps are
numbered ; and I am come to offer you back
your rightful place in your own home. You
have sown your wild oats, and I expect you to
settle down now to a quiet life."

" Do you know that I have become a (^hris-
tain } " I asked, after a slight pause.

" I have judged as much from the people you
are living with," he replied, " but you will give
up all those foolish ideas. I think you are only
acting a part, and don't believe in Christianity
any more than I do."

** You are laboring under a mistake," I rejoined,
somewhat hastily, " I am not playing a part.
My eyes have been opened and I know the
truth."

" What nonsense I " he answered ; " you will
find it is only a mockery — ail the creation of
some man's brain."

" No," I answered, * it is the truth ; and if I
comply with your request and return home, it
will be with the assurance that I shall have
liberty to practice Christianity. Besides, I in-

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BRIG II 7 'I:K si 'II ekes.

tend to seek the hand of a Christian lady in
marriage."

" You are just as stubborn as ever," he said ;
" I might as well have remained at home.
You have always thwarted every wish of mine."

" I am sorry, but I cannot give up my opinions,"
I answered, " and there is more happiness for
me in the path I have marked out for the future,
if I only succeed in winning the woman I love."

He came closer to me, a pleading look soften-
ing his features. " My boy," he said, " will }-ou
not give up all those ideas and return with mc }
You will soon forget it all. "

" Have I not already answered you ? " I
repli d.

** But you do not mean that," he answered.
'• n.ave I not told you thai T am childless, and
my home is desolate. Return to your old home
and forget this woman you speak of. I am your

father, and should have the first claim on your
affection."

For the moment my heart softened towaras
him, as I perceived the change sorrow had
wrought in his appearance. His once vigorous
form looked feeble and bent, and deep lines uf
care marked his countenance. I was undecided

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ryRIGIirER SPHERES

145

i ?

how to answer him. I never thought for an

instant of giving up the plan I had formed.

Softly through my heart came the remem.brancc

of some words Alice had once said to mc :

"The man who would renounce all the wealth

of the world, forsaking all for Christ — I should

deem him worthy of being called a hero."

" I have not very long to live," my father

went on ; "and at my dcith you will possess all

I have."

** No," I answered, "it can never be; now

that I have found the truth, I cannot lightly

throw it aside."

" You will repent it one day," he said, in

anger, " when this woman turns from you ; and

then you will wish you had done as I asked

you."

He turned as if to leave the room, but I

called him back. *• Stay," I said. •' Before you

go I have something to tell you. While I was

an atheist I knew no real happiness. You know

well all the misery I caused those around mc ;

but as I sinned, so have I suffered. When in

an hour of dark despair I intended to kill those

who had wronged me — and then myself — there

came to me an angel in human form. She was

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BRIGIITER SPHERES.

only a Christian maiden with a pure and lofty
soul. Daily I lived in her presence and grew
to love her, even as the flowers love the sun-
shine. She it was who brought my soul from
the heavy darkness of sin into the eternal light.
Don't think it was an easy task, for the strong
belief of years was hard to battle with, and even
now I have much to learn ; still, though un-
worthy of the name, I call myself a Christian."

'•What is the use of telling me all this ? " he
said in an angry tone. " I tell you that some
day you will be sorry for it ! "

I followed him out into the hall, loth to part
from him in anger. *' Is this a final parting ? "
I asked ; *' can there be no peace between us ? "

"No," he said, sternly. "I was a fool to
come near you."

It was with a heavy heart I saw him take his
departure, watching his form till it faded from
my sight ; and so we parted to meet on earth
no more.

This visit of his somewhat damped my
happiness. I did not like to think of him as
miserable in his old age. I comforted myself
with the reflection that I would tell Alice all
about it. She would advise me what was best

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

'47

to do ; and, before retiring to rest, I made the
few necessary preparations for my journey.

It was a bright sunshiny morning when I
started for Montreal, and my heart beat high in
anticipation of happier days, Mr. Austin wrung
my hand warmly at parting. " If anything hap-
pens to frustrate your plans," he said, "you
must return here and make your home with us."
I thanked him and promised to do so, yet hoped
that it would be otherwise. No foreboding:
came to me of anything wrong. I believed
that fate intended to be kind to me at last, and
that the future would be clear and bright.

Is it not a merciful Providence that has
ordained it so ? Thank your God, O ye people
of the earth, that the future is hidden from you
in a sea of mystery ! ! Be happy in the present,
well content to leave the future in His hands,
and seek not to pry into that which He has
intended you should not know; for "sufficient
untt) the day is the evil thereof." And when
life's brief journey is ended, and the spirit
world with all its wonders is opened to you,
then will you see light on subjects which now
seem so dark to you ; then will you know the
"why" and "wherefore" of "this thing" and

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

"that." 3o» t>e comforted, O ye troubled
hearts ! Know ye, that not even a sparrow falls
unnoticed by the Father ; and how much more
worthy of His regard are ye, O men of little
faith!

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

149

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CHAPTER XIV.

THE WAGES OF SIN.

When I arrived in Montreal, I could hardly
restrain my joy at the prospect of seeing Alice.
There was every indication of a heavy storm.
Overhead the dark clouds hung thick and heavy,
and there was that strange stillness in the
atmosphere, sure token that the elements would
soon be at war.

Passing a florist's, and knowing the passion
that Alice had for flowers, I purchased the
choicest blossoms I could find. I had them
neatly laid on a bed of green moss ; and taking
them with me, I hurried to reach the house
before the storm should overtake me. I knew
that it was a good hour to find them at home.
I pictured their surprise on seeing me ; and I
felt that I should soon know my fate.

I was still unworthy of aspiring to the love of
one so good, but I fondly hoped that she would
help me to attain that perfection which she had

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

■; ' ''

already reached. The door was opened by the
same girl that was with them when I left. She
gave a start of surprise on beholding me.

" Is Mr. Dalton at home ? " I asked, as I
followed her into the house.

"Why, no," she replied ; "did he not write to
you before he went to England ? "

"I did not hear of it," I said. "Tell Miss
Dalton that I am here."

The girl looked at me in astonishment. "Do
you not know," she replied, " that Miss Dalton
is dead ? "

I looked at her in sudden rage. " Don't jest
with mc," I said impatiently.

" I am in earnest," she answered ; "see, here
is the notice of her death I cut from the paper.
Mr. Dalton was so broken-hearted by the blow
that he could not bear to live here."

I gazed around the familiar room and half
expected to see her come forward to greet me.
I tried to read the notice, but the words seemed
to dance before my eyes.

" How did it happen ? " I asked, as the awful
truth burst upon me.

** It was fever," the girl answered. " Poor,
gentle creature, she was visiting some of the

BRIGHTER SrULRES.

15'

poor and found some stricken with disease. It
proved contagious ; and in a few days she was
in her bed, never to rise again."

Here the good-natured girl pressed her hand
over her eyes to hide the tears. " It was piti-
ful, sir," she went on, " to see one so good taken,
while the bad ones are left. But she never
murmured : she was patient to the end."

"Take me to the room she died in," I said;
and in silence I ascended the staircase.

" Here it is, sir," the girl said, opening a door.

" Will you leave me here for a little while ?"
I asked ; " I would rather be alone."

She complied, closing the door after her ; and
I gazed about me in mute despair. How well
I knew that room ! How familiar was each
object ! It was the dainty rose-tinted room in
which I had first beheld her. She must have
occupied it after I left. My eyes fell on the
flowers I had brought for her. I had chosen
them, because I knew she would prize them
better than the rarest jewels. Now my heart
was smitten with anguish, as I realized the
truth. I dashed the box on the floor and
stamped upon it in my rage. Outside the
storm had burst in all its fury, and I crouched

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

by the open window and spread my arms out
into the gathering darkness. *' Dead ! " I cried,
" and I knew it not ! Dead ! and must I
still live on ? and through the coming years
shall I listen in vain for the sound of her dear
voice ? No, no, she cannot be dead ! " " Dead ! "
The lightning seemed to whisper the word as
it flashed upon my stricken form. " Dead ! '*
the thunder echoed as it died away in the
distance. " Dead ! " cried my despairing heart.
" How can she be dead ? She believed in
another life! She must live on somewhere!
Such a soul was not created for this passing
life ! She must still live on ! She was too
good to die ! " I peered out into the vapory
darkness and eagerly scanned the angry sky,
as if my eyes could pierce the veil of mystery
that hid her from my sight.

" O my darling I " I cried, *' can my eyes not
reach thee on that unknown shore .'' Can I not
see thy spirit face, or behold thy phantom
form ? Never, never, till I too am dead ! "

Softly through the rising mists I fancied I
saw her come. Methought I saw her dear face
smiling on me in my anguish ; while borne on
the rustling wind came the faint sound of her

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BRIGirrER SrifERES.

»53

spirit voice. " I am not dead," it seemed to
i^ay; ''I live ajrain in Clirist."

I held out my hands as if to grasp her, but
they encountered only the cold rain drops.
I called aloud to her, but the thunder drowned
my voice, and nothing remained but the empty
darkness. She was not dead ! O blessed
assurance? My darling lived, lived on, glorified
and immortal. I bowed my head, and my soul
went out in adoration to the God who had
blessed us with an immortal life.

1 could no longer doubt the immortality of
the soul.

" O God of the sorrowful," I prayed, " help
me to bear this blow. All my life I have ignored
Thee — have despised Thy doctrines. Now, O
God, I beseech Thee to let me live the life my
darling led. Make me like her, so that I may
one day be deemed worthy of living with her
in Thy eternal home ! "

The thought comforted me, and I arose,
resolved to devote my life to Christ as she
had done.

" Spirit of my dead Alice, descend upon me ! "
I cried, " and help me through the dreary years.
Give me thy blessing to comfort and cheer me
in the lonely future ! "

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liRlcn TER SPHERES.

How desolate tlic future appeared to mc !
How dreary the coming- years ! Yet in the
distance, hope, Hie a lone star, shone upon me
— the hope of one day entering the immort;il
life, where I could enjoy the eternal peace with
her who was dead to me in life.

Through all my grief I perceived the hand of
God heavy against me. I had sinned deep!}-,
and " the wages of sin is death." A living death
was my punishment — a life wherein no joy could
enter ; for with the loss of her I loved came
death to every joy of my existence.

To Alice there came no death. It was mere-
ly a short journe}' — a passing transition from a
dark world of sin to brighter spheres of eternal
peace and joy.

I left the house — a sad and altered man. I
was undecided where I should go. I longed to
visit my old home, and view once more the
scenes of my childhood. Who, in an hour of
sorrow, does not remember with regret the
happy hours of childhood }

I knew it was useless for me to think of going
home — there would only be another quarrel
with my father. I knew that we would never
agree on the subject of religion, and I thought

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nRiairrER spheres. 155

I had better return to Mr. Austin. With him I
would coninience a life of help and devotion
to the Master's cause.

The next day found me on my way to him.
I was received with looks of surprise at my
changed appearance. I had left them a young
man, full of hope ; and I returned, haggard and
prematurely aged — my dark hair plentifully
sprinkled with threads of silvery white. I told
them what had happened, and the worthy
couple were greatly shocked at the sad news.

"But why should we mourn for her.''" Mr.
Austin said ; " we know that she has entered
that eternal rest which God gives His beloved."

I told Mr. Austin the life I had intended to
lead, and he was much pleased at my decision.
"You should study for the ministry," he said,
"and when my hour comes to die, I shall rest
content that you will faithfully continue the
work I have begun."

I promised him I would ; but I knew that I
would need much improvement before I should
be worthy to work as he did.

I wrote to my father and explained to him
the disappointment I had received, and also the
life I was about to begin. I received no answer

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156 BRIGHTER SPHERES.

for some time. Then c.i.ac a letter from the
family lawyer, informing me that my father and
his wife were gone to England. Enclosed I
found a cheque. It was for a comparatively
small amount, yet to me it was very acceptable.

All through the long summer months I studied
harder than ever. Mr. Austin was failing fast,
and each day found him more feeble, and the
hardest work devolved on me. Besides a class
for young men, I had Sunday school for the
small boys of the village, and the aged poor to
attend to ; so that my time was fully occupied.
Through ic all the memory of Alice cheered me
on. I knew that I had much to learn before I
became the Christian she was ; and much to
atone for, before I should be worthy to stand in
the presence of the incomprehensible God, who
was well aware of the faults of the creature He
had made. Often in the night I suffered untold
pangs of misery ; and I lifted my voice to God
in the darkness, pleading for mercy and pardon
for the past.

Sometimes Mr. Austin would ask me to
preach or lecture to the class, and a sense of my
unworthiness would come over me. I would be
at a loss what to say ; but, after a silent prayer,

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

157

the words would flow, and almost unconsciously
I worked upon the feelings of my hearers, until
many doubting hearts were convinced.

I did not set myself up amongst them as an
example, or a shining light, but as a struggling
sinner working for the truth ; and, strange to
say, my work was successful, and I accomplished
much good. I helped many a despairing fcUow-
creature into a better way of living ; and many
a night, while Mr. Austin took his rest, I went
about among the sick and suffering.

Sometimes, when alone with nature, my soul
would rise in adoration to God, until by degrees
my thoughts were rapt above the earth, away
far into the mysterious regions where I knew
th? t Alice dwelt ; and I would try to picture
her blest and immortal, reaping the harvest of
the good seed she had sown on earth.

It grieved me to think of my father. He
never wrote to me ; yet I prayed daily for his
conversion, and longed for him to experience
the comfort of religion. He was dragging out
his existence in darkness and sin, and he wou.d
know nothing of eternal life until his soul, bereft
of its earthly covering, should stand in the
presence of a judging — yet I trusted a merciful
— God.

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nniGHTER SPHERES.

The people around me seemed much affected
by my teachings. I did not preach to them
after the usual manner. I left aside the doctrines
I thought to be mistakes. About eternal punish-
ment, I still had my doubts. I simply urged
them to live a life of good. To those who needed
help I spoke of the Saviour's love, and of the
mercy shown by Him to sinners. At the end
of these meetings I would find many waiting to
ask me questions, which I sometimes found hard
to answer.

" Do you think all sinners will be saved ? "
one man asked me.

" Look around you," I replied, "and behold
the many instances of God's love for sinners.
Is it likely that He who cares for us in a life of
sin will abandon us in that life in which we
hope for rest and reward for our work .'' "

" But what of the sinners who die without
repenting } " the man persisted.

" I think we can trust that God has provided
a place of repentance in the life to come. I
think it is wrong for us to judge what shall be
the future of sinners. He who created them
did not do so with the intention of placing them
in everlasting torment."

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

.About this time an event took place which
threw a gloom over the village — Mr. Austin's
death. Poor man, he stood bravely to his post;
yet, when death came, he was ready for its
summons.

In him I had found a true friend, and I missed
him in many ways. A work that he had begun
was left to me to finish. Though he was dead
his work lived on, and many Christian hearts
followed after his example. A younger man
replaced him — a man worthy of following in
his footsteps.

I took up my head-quarters in the village,
and went steadily on with my work. I left
myself completely in the hands of God. Some-
times I would wander away from home, wher-
ever His spirit led me, and preach the Gospel.
In this way the years passed, and I waited
patiently till death should set my spirit free to
rest from my labors.

I shall now pass over a longer period of
such a life — some ten years or more — and again
I will come before the reader, as an old man — a
man whose days are numbered, and whose
heart was buried in the grave of the woman he
loved. Yet I would speak a word of warning

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

before closing these earthly scenes. I would
ask you people of the earth so to live, that when
you die you can look back on life without a
shudder for your crimes. Here, everything is
so pure, so calm, so peaceful, that the sins com-
mitted on earth rise up and haunt the memory
— even as the murderer is haunted by the cries
of his victim.

And now I am nearing the end of my history
on earth — nearing that scene in which the Angel
of Death will play a prominent part. Read it
as a message from another world ; for it is true»
and truth will prevail !

\\\\

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

x6l

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CHAPTER XV.

CLOSING SCENES.

J' I

iilii

Slowly in the western sky tlie autumn sun is
sinking to its rest. All day long it has scorched
with its powerful rays each tiny flower and
blade of grass that deck the meadows. Now a
gentle dew refreshes the parched earth ; while
a soft wind sweeps gradually over the rising
landscape. I stand alone on the hillside and
gaze around me. Beneath lay the village — the
scenecf my labors. Why was I loth to leave it,
I wondered ; for in my hand I held a letter that
called me thence, and the prospect saddened
me. But I knew it was my duty, and I would
go. The letter wa. /rom Boston, urging me to
come at onte and begin my labors there.
Never did the village seem so dear to me as
when I knew I must leave it. Still my work there
was nearly ended. I should leave behind me
many true Christians, many true soldiers of God.
Across the meadows came the laborers, return-
ing from their day's work. They greeted me

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

kindly as they passed. How well I knew them
all! Not one that had not come to me and
told me his hopes and joys. . It would be hard
to say farewell, hard to leave them, perhaps for
ever. Yet I would not hesitate to obey duty's
call. Go, I must, be the results good or evil;
and I trusted that He whose hand had led me
thus far would lead me safely to the end.
Soon the villagers had all passed, and I was
again alone, though in the distance I could
discern their forms as they loitered on the way,
resting from the labors of the day.

A stranger passing through the village would
behold those scenes as in days of yore — the
merry children playing in their childish glee,
the solitary couple loitering in the by-ways ;
all peaceful and calm, watched over by the
Father with loving care.

As I walked homeward in the gathering
twilight, recollections of by-gone years stole
over me. Again I fancied myself a youth
standing on the threshold of manhood, the
future looming bright and clear before me.
And then, the faces of loved ones floated through
my fancy. Lastly, I wondered if, when my
earthly probation was ended, I should find those
who had gone before.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

163

I had never been gifted with poetical fancies,
but now my life came rhyming in verses through
my brain, I give them as they were — called

THE STREAM OF LIFE.

I was floating down the river—

The river called the Stream of Life-
Knowing not of God, the Giver
Of the bright, eternal Life.

Then the Stream of Life grew troubled j
Darkness hid me from the shore ;

*• I am lost ! " I vainly shouted ;
*' I am lost for evermore ! "

And the angry waters near me —

The waters called the Sea of Death—-

"Were ever ready lo engulf me
'Neath their dark and dismal depth.

But the Father, ever watchful
Of the precious soul He'd made.

Led my Spirit, weak and doubtful,
To the shore, 'neaih mercy's shade.

There the darkness faded from me,
I had found the truth at last,

And th' eternal lii;ht shone on me j
I was saved — the danger past.

Gently then the stream flowed onward ;

I floated on without a care,
Steering my frail craft homeward,

Safe beneath the Father's caie.

Now Life's Stream is nearly ended;

Soon I'll reach the tternal shore,
Where, in jiy and glory blended,

I hope to reign f tr ever more.

164

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

I wrote the words on a slip of paper, which I
afterwards lost ; but they are fresh in my memory
still.

It was no easy task to inform the simple-
hearted villagers of my intended departure.
They had become attached to me, and I to
them. They had made me a sharer of their
joys and sorrows ; and many were the looks of
regret when they heard that I was going to
leave them.

Once i had made up my mind, I did not
linger long, but began preparations to start
without delay. The night before my journey I
entered the class-room to say a few parting
words. They were all there — the people I had
worked amongst. The room was crowded —
many with sad faces and dejected air. How
vividly they rise before me now — those faces of
the past ! Some of them I meet here ; and oh !
how happy is that meeting, where there is no
earthly care to mar the joy, no dark clouds to dim
the future ! It is but the answer to my prayer
of that night ; for, as we knelt in prayer, I be-
sought the God of Glory, who had ordained
that we should part, that in His own time we
should meet together in the glory of His

HRrCIITER SPHERES, 165

immortal home. It was over at last : the final
■good-bye spoken, the last farewell whispered,
accompanied by hearty hand-shakes and many
wishes of God-speed ; and I lingered in the
doorway — a lonely figure — as I watched them
fading from sight, little knowing that it was the
last I should see of them on earth.

The next morning I started early for the
scene of my new work. Boston was much the
same then as it is now. I had plenty of work
to do : I found many sinful souls; and I did
my utmost to save them from a life of crime.

About this time it entered my head to write
the history of my life and publish it to the
world, thinking it would perhaps prove a lesson
to mankind ; but I had not much time to begin
it, so I determined to wait until I could obtain
time to go to Montreal. There, where I had
found salvation, I would write a full account
of it. My father was still in England, and
strangers occupied the old home. I did not go
there — old memories were too strong within me
just then ; so I contented myself with my work,
well satisfied that I was doing some good ; and
God looked on my efforts and blessed them,
and my work prospered.

1 1

166

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

rfS>

In midwinter I suddenly made up my mind
to visit Montreal, where there was to be a Carni-
val.* The rates would be red uced, and, as my
means were limited, I concluded to avail myself
of the chance. Once there, I would take some
rest, and then begin my history.

Strange that I fancied Alice so near me at
that time. It seemed to me that she was direct-
ing me onward. I had never forgotten a single
expression of her dear face ; it was as fresh in
my memory as the first time I beheld her. Other
faces, fair and beautiful, had crossed my path, but
never one with such an expression of purity
and truth as hers. It would pain me, I knew,
to visit the old scenes wherein I had first known
her ; but I would conquer my sorrow, trusting
that some day it would pass away and in the
end I should know peace.

I purchased a return ticket on the Central
Vermont line, and, without telling any one
where I was going, I started on my journey. I
had a reason for secrecy : many Boston ians
would be in Montreal, and, if they knew I was
there, would expect me to join them ; but I
was going, not for amusement, but for rest.

•The Carnival of 1887.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

167

The night was clear and frosty. From above
a bright moon sent down her silvery rays,
causing the leafless trees to cast their shadows
on the snow-bound region. On, on, the engine
rushed, with its train of cars, scattering in every
direction a shower of fiery sparks. On, on, it
went, speeding past the quaint homesteads and
quiet villages that looked so weird in the moon-
light.

There was the usual rumbling noise. Many
of the passengers had retired to rest, sleeping
all unconscious of the cruel fate su soon to
overtake them. I was sitting alone, read-
ing an extract from a sermon I had copied.
The air of the car was insufferably close. The
stoves were filled with burning coals that sent
forth an intense heat, making the hot air flutter
through the car like faint smoke. There came
to me no thought of danger — all was so tranquil.
I sat there, calm, and knowing not that I should
not see, in life, the well-remembered scenes I
was then lookfng forward to.

There was a screech from the locomotive as
it neared a small wooden bridge. Suddenly I
felt a swerving, jolting motion ; there was a
crash, and before I realized what had happened,

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

I felt myself falling through space, the broken
timbers falling around mc, while shouts of wild
horror arose on the frosty air. I came in con-
tact with the cold ground, and then became
oblivious of all around me.

I must have sunk into a dream or trance. It
seemed as if I stood in the midst of a fragrant
garden, where many rare things passed before
my wondering eyes, Bright-plumaged birds
filled the air with their sweet song, and all
around me flowers of rich variety sprang in
their verdant beauty. A stream of crystal
water flowed beside me, and on the brink stood
a woman clad in robes of white. Slowly she
turned towards me and I beheld the face of
Alice. I tried to reach her, but some unseen
force held me back. All the passionate love
arose within me. Ah, if I could only reach her,
I would never let her from my grasp ! Death
itself would not possess the power to sever us !
If she would but come closer, I would tell her
that, living or dead, she was mine !

It turned dark, and the bright dream was
gone. I awoke to the awful reality. The sky
above me was lit up with a lurid glare, and I
could hear the fierce roaring of the flames as they
went on with their deadly work.

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

169

For five or ten minutes I lay trying to recall
what had happened. I tried to rise, but I was
covered with the fallen debris and broken timber,
and found that I could not stir. I felt as if I
was freezing^, yet ever nearer to me came the
deadly flames, while the cries, and appeals for
help which could not be rendered, were per-
fectly frightful to listen to.

Suddenly I awoke to a sense of my own
danger. Unless help soon reached me I was
doomed. I gazed around me helplessly. Nearer
came the flames ; already I could feel their hot
breath. Yes, God help me, I thought, I was
doomed to an awful death. In that minute
every act of my life arose before me with startling
distinctness. Faces that I had forgotten — the
old, evil companions of the gambling den — now
came before me, mocking my anguish. All
Christians believe in a hell j but there is no hell
with half the terrors of a dying guilty conscience.
Oh the deep agony of the moment, when the
foreboding anguish thrilled my soul that death
was near me ! A horrible darkness overshadowed
my soul, and I seemed lost in a sea of night.
Intense pain racked my body, but the agony of
my mind was greater. The time must have been

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

very short, but to me it seemed ages, all my
sins rising before me like demons of darkness
torturing my soul ere its flight. In my mind
there was no remembrance of the good I had
done ; only the evil haunted me. Strange, too,,
that I did not think of Alice ! It was my
mother I thought of in my last agony. I seemed
to see her smiling on me from a place of light,
but hell-hounds seemed to drag me from her
into outer darkness, where there was wailing
and weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Could this be hell? I asked myself; and
was I doomed to sufifer the torments of the
damned ? All the people I had ever wronged
came to haunt me in my agony, their cries
making it all the more hideous. Deeper, deeper
grew the darkness ; thicker, thicker grew the
mist ; loud voices shouted around me, till my
spirit felt faint with terror.

Was this eternal life — this awful anguish ?
Was this the life I had been looking forward
to } Where was the Christ who had promised
to save sinners } Where was Alice } Surely
my love was strong enough to draw her to
me !

•' O Christ ! " I prayed, " have mercy on me ;
into Thy hands I commend my spirit."

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

lyr

As I said the words, the terror vanished : the
darkness gradually disappeared, and I seemed
to see the face of Christ beaming on me.

A loud noise startled me back to lift. The
timbers of the bridge had given way, falling on
the struggling mass of wounded people, dealing
death and destruction all around. Something
heavy struck me; and, with one last thrill of
mortal agony I was numbered w.th the dead.*

For a long time after, I seemed lying in a
sleep. My first sensation was like that of a
tired man, awakened from a deep sleep. My
spirit was weary with the struggle it had under-
gone, and was quietly gaining strength. I found
myself reclining on what appeared to be a fleecy
cloud.

All seemed natural to me. I did not feel at
all strange, though apparently suspended
between heaven and earth. Other inhabitants
of the air were f oating around me, and I found
that I could float any distance at will. From
beneath me, 1 could see a long, long distance.
The world looked very small to mc, and I began
floating downward to view it closer.

• The appalling accident, here so vividly des .ibed, which
occurred at White River Junction early in the morning of the
5th February, 1887, """st be fresh in ihe recollection of every-
one.

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172

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

When my spirit passed away, it must have
floated, or been carried, to the cloud whereon 1
rested, where it must have lain dormant ; for,
as I approached the earth, I found the sun had
already risen.

The first thing that greeted my vision was the
scene of the accident; other spirits were crowd-
ing around, and I mingled with them. I now
saw that it had been caused by a broken rail.
The rear sleeper had fallen over the embank-
ment, carrying with it the passenger coaches,
containing upwards of eighty-four persons.
Many of them told me, in the spirit-world, that
they had died before reaching the bottom of the
embankment. A bystander remarked that the
time from the accident to the falling of the
bridge was about fifteen minutes. This was the
time of my agony ; but how long it had seemed
to me ! Even then I could not recall it with-
out a shudder.

1 looked for some trace of my mangled
body, but it was not visible ; it was no doubt
charred and disfigured beyond recognition. It
was not very comforting to reflect on. My
friends would not know what had become of
me ; and my father would not even know that
1 was dead.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

»73

As I thought of this, I determined to go and
try to make known to him that I had passed
from earth. I accordingly began ascending
from the dreary scene of death, and I floated
with quick motion over land and sea. It was
delightful — this easy floating through space. I
would not wish for any other existence ; yet, at
the same time, I wondered where heaven was.
Strange too, that I no longer longed for Alice !
All earthly passions had vanished. I felt all-
sufficient in myself. Numbers of spirits, in bands,
passed me, all seemingly intent on some mission.
Now and then I beheld a solitary form like my
C -1. I reached England. I found that my
father lived in the West. I had not.' ig to
guide me save instinct, which is very po verful
in spirit life. I found that I had pov cr to
inspect the dwellings over which I passed. All
spirits do not possess this power. Many ac juire
it after long years, but I found that I poss< ssed
it from the first.

And people called this death ! To me it was
a life of bliss. So, farewell, all earthly lab^ ur!
farewell, all earthly care ! never more will ,'ou
annoy me ; yet from the height of Brig tcr
Spheres will I view your progress, O wo Id !

»74

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

Though you look so small and insignificant from
where I am, still I remember that I once mingled
in your scenes — once shared your sorrows and
your joys. Now, O world ! I look cahnly back
to that time and say :

" ' O death, where is thy sting r O grave,
where is thy victory ? ' "

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

CHAPTER XVI.

175

•IfH i

Vii

THE SPIRIT WORLD.

It was night on the shores of England — a clear,
still night. I found my father's house — a rich
mansion, a-blaze with lights and crowded with
guests. Mrs, Rogers was evidently holding a re-
ception. I looked in vain for my father in the
crowded rooms. He was not there, but something
drew me onward to the conservatory at the rear of
the house. There, seated on a low seat, slKulcd
by the large tropical plants, was my father-
alone and cheerless-looking. He a[)p(.\ircd to
have fallen into a light slumber; and as 1 drew
nearer, I perceived that he was watched over by
the spirit of a woman— a being with a pure.md
beaming countenance — who gently stroked his
care-worn face. I wondered that he could not
feel that touch ; once h<c stirred uneasily m his
slumber — he was dreaming.

I felt strangely attractfxi b\' the face of the

woman, who look;

U nJer in her lovinsr

H',

176

JiRICIITl.R SPHERES,

care. She raised her head, and our lyes met in
one fond glance of recognition. Oh, the un-
utterable joy of the moment, when, in spirit
life, I first beheld my mother ! She knew me
at once ; the change of years cannot hide a child
from a mother's heart. *' My boy ! " she said,
" I have been waiting for you here ; I knew that
you would come."

•* Now," I said, " I understand what instinct
drew me here ; you were waiting for me,"

" Yes," she answered ; " but come, let us go
hence. Your father sleeps."

" Poor man ! " I said, " he does not look
happy."

"Come closer," she said, "and read his
thoughts."

1 placed my head close to his, and found that
I could distinctly read his very thoughts ; he
was dreaming of his youth.

** We will come back to him again," my
mother said. " You have yet to view the
wonders of this life."

'* But where is heaven, motlier ? " I asked her,
as together we floated upwards.

" Heaven, my son," she answered, " is so vast,
so beautiful, so grand, it will take you a long
time to reach it."

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

177

We travelled a great distance upwards, far
beyond the " limits of space." The air around us
seemed to grow radiant with light, while strains
of sweet music were wafted from the disM'Hc.
Spirits with beaming faces smiled on us as lie/
passed.

I felt strangely happy : my spirit s cm -d
animated with fresh energy: I retained . i' :.iy
mental faculties, and my memory was 1 :uch
clearer than it had ever been. We rcaclic 1 a
place that seemed made of golden clouc;. ; it
was from this place that the music floated.
Spirit forms were hovering near, as if anxious
to enter this plac<; of light; some tried to enter,
but were sent back.

"How is this.-* "I asked my mother, "Why
are they sent back ? "

" They are not good enough," she answered,
"This is a high sphere where only those \\\\o
have done penance for their sins can enter. All
are pure and spotless who dwell therein."

** This is not heaven, then ? " * queried.

'* No," she said, " what is called heaven, is the
highest sphere of all. You will have to go
through many before you are considered worthy

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178

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

to enter it ; for there is found the perfection of
spirit life."

" But how can they tell here," I asked,
** whether spirits are worthy or not ? "

" Oh ! my son," she said, " there are pure and
noble spirits in charge who are much wiser than
we are. They are i»ppointed by God to be the
guardian angels of men. They are familiar with
our good deeds and our bad. If the bad deeds
overbalance the good, we could not enter until
the good were in the ascendancy. We are
judged, not so much by the bad we have done
as by the good ; for * the good tree bringeth
forth good fruit.' "

" Then a man can atone, in this life, for the
crimes committed on earth } "

" Yes," she answered, " there are many ways
of atonement, until gradually the stain of guilt
disappears and the spirit is pure enough to
enter a higher sphere. But follow me, we will
go in."

I floated after her into the City of Light,
whose radiance dazzled me. It was lighted with
numerous suns, whose brilliant rays were re-
flected on the jasper pavement, and on the build-
ings, which seemed composed of a substance

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

179

like marble and gold. We entered a fragrant
garden, furnished with shady retreats. It was
a pure and peaceful atmosphere, and already
my spirit was glorified by the purity of the air
around me. Such must be the atmosphere
where so many holy beings live immortalized,

I entered a cool retreat and watched them as
they passed — those celestial people. They were
clothed in garments of white, and their faces
shone with holiness and love. I saw the form
of a woman advancing towards me. She seemed
so pure and holy that other spirits bowed low
before her as she passed ; because she had
descended from a higher sphere.

As she neared me I felt as if I must fall
down and worship her — she was so bright and
lovely. But she smiled on me, and I recognized
her ; it was Alice, shining in immortality.

I rushed to greet her, but she drew back :
"I am not first; here is one who las long
waited for this meeting." I looked and beheld
another form, less lovely ; it was Maud — my
wife — beaming on me with looks of love and
forgiveness.

It was a joyful meeting. Earthly mortals
Jiave no idea of the bliss experienced in brighter
spheres.

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! 1

We conversed together for a long Hme^
Other friends crowded around to welcome me,,
among whom were Mr. Austin and other friends
of my village home. Here, too, I met relatives
I had never known. Merc the bond of rela-
tionship is strong ; all love each other — rank
makes no distinction.

"We will leave you now," my mother said,
"you need some rest."

" Why must you leave me so soon ? " I asked.

" We belong to a higher sphere," Maud ex-
plained ; ** you must remember that we are long
residents here. After a length of time spent
here the spirit becomes very pure. Do you
know that from the other spheres we can watch
over you, just as from this one you can behold
what is passing on earth. Look!

I peered over what seemed a deep cliff or
ravine, where vapory clouds ascended, and I
could distinctly see the world revolving beneath
me like a huge globe, its different countries
visible, and a portion of it wholly uninhabited.
The other planets were more beautiful than the
world I had lived on ; they were all inhabited.
He who created them had a double purpose in

view.

PKIGIITER SPHERES,

tSl

Bands of spirits now came floating upwards
from those planets and the earth ; some of them
with written records of what they had seen
— the crimes and sins of men, which were
numerous.

" Do you know anything of Rose ? " I asked
Alice. " Jt would spoil my joy if I thought she
was unhappy."

" No," Alice replied, " she is happy, but she
is now atoning for many sinful hours spent on
earth. She is called a Spirit of Mercy ; and is
ever on the earth trying to do good for the sons
of men."

My friends now left me, and I rested ; for I
was somewhat dazed by the wonders I had
beheld. It was a world of peace and beauty,
where divine grace dwelt undisturbed by sin.
The inhabitants were all shining with joy — no
sadness or sorrow anywhere.

Other joys awaited me after my rest. I was
able to wander at will — sometimes in company
with Maud or Alice — through the other planets,
whose beauty amazed me.

In this way some months must have passed,
but to me they were like so many hours. The
years here are like days. As yet I have not

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

beheld half the glory of God's dominions ; for
"in the Father's house are many mansions."
He dwells in the highest heavens, and rules the
spirit world. Only the purest and holiest spirits
dwell in His presence. These seldom visit the
earth — only on some particular mission. When
God commands, they obey.

There are many kinds of spirits. Some are
Spirits of Mercy sent by God to the earth to
relieve the over-burdened sinner when he cries
for divine help. Then, there are Spirits of Love
and Charity direct from God, filling the hearts
of the righteous with love for their fellow-
creatures, and eternal love for the Father of
Mercies.

The Spirits of Purity hover around the young
and innocent, protecting them from the evil
spirits that are ever on the earth.

There are also Spirits of Hope, who descend
on earth to cheer the despairing sinner, and
whisper to him of the eternal life awaiting him.

The Spirits of Faith hover in the churches>
softly breathing of the divine love that never
fails.

Spirits of Grace are ever with the good. I
have seen a minister preaching under the con-

BRIGHTER SPHEREi\

i»3

trol of seven spirits, each whispering a heavenly
thought.

When a man commits a great crime, good
spirits forsake him. They are not allowed to
associate too closely with evil — except Spirits
of Mercy, who are ever striving to bring the
sinner to repentance.

There are also Spirits of Death, whose task is
very hard. If a good man commits a crime
and dies in a state of sin, he first goes through
a certain amount of punishment; then he is
made a Spirit of Death until such time as he is
pure enough to enter a higher sphere. Their
name is legion — those Spirits of Death — each
working a mission.

. Spirits often go in bands : thus Love accom-
panies Charity ; Mercy, Hope ; Faith and Peace
go with Death. All is order and spiritual law.

Millions upon millions have their different
missions. There are many without a mission-
good people, such as Alice, who rest and reap
their reward ; for their work was good on earth.
A wealthy man, who has lived a life of ease
may be a member of a church, and call himself
a Christian, but that alone does not please God ;
He wants His servants to work in His canse.

184

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

If it is not done on earth, they will have to
work in spirit life. How much better then it
would be to accomplish good on earth ! God
does not create a soul without a purpose ; He
marks out for each a mission, which, if not
fulfilled on earth, must be done here !

There are many here who have occupied a
lofty station in life, caring naught for their
fellow-creatures; yet now they go about, un-
seen, among the poverty-stricken on earth,
helping them, putting thoughts into their minds
of how to win eternal life. Sometimes men
listen to these spirit voices and do not obey.
This is wrong. If some instinct warns you to
do a good deed, be sure a good spirit is near
you. Life is sometimes saved in this way.
God is not ready to claim it, and sends a spirit
who whispers " do this, or that ; " and by obey-
ing, you will soon find that if you had done
otherwise something serious would have hap-
pened.

There are Guardian Spirits, or Angels, more
commonly called. When a child is born the
pure spirit of a child is taught to watch over it,
and as the child grows, the spirit expands and
guides it to the end. Yet Guardian Angels are

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

185

hot always on earth. They remain for long
periods in brighter spheres, but they send Spirits
of Love, Mercy, Hope and Peace to those they
guard. Sin and crime displease these Spirits,
because it displeases God.

Sin is always punished — to what extent I am
not at liberty to say. Some day you will know
all. That which seems so incomprehensible
now will all be understood, when, through the
portals of death, you enter brighter spheres.

When sinners are heavily punished with deep
afflictions on earth, their sufferings are lessened
here. O sons of men ! could you but know the
eternal glory and perpetual joy that here await
you, then would you forsake the path of sin and
live as you would die, in love and fellowship
with each other ; for here all is love — earthly
passions are no more. A man beholds his
mother, wife, sister, but feels they are not
necessary to his happiness. We all know and
love each other.

If a man of a drunken, quarrelsome disposition
dies, he cannot enter the higher spheres until
his spirit is purified of all evil qualities ; for with
us all is peace. It is that '* peace which passeth
all understanding/' and which can never be ex-

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

perienced on earth, for there the angry discord
and sinful strife would mar its beauty.

Many spirits are ever near their loved ones
on earth ; they can become an influence for good
or evil, according to the life led on earth.

There are many unhappy spirits who are
waiting till the time of pardon — then they may
rest in the higher spheres.

A long time ago there lived a lady of rank,
who called herself a Christian. She had a large
family of sons, for whose sake she became
ambitious. She oppressed the poor ; she became
a very miser for wealth and social honors ; she
forgot her God and made wealth her idol. Soon
there came a dark hour of pain, and Death
called ; but she rebelled against the divine will,
and called God cruel to take her from earth
where her treasure was. When her spirit
emerged from the mists, she stood at the Pearly
Gates — a faltering spirit, awed by the glory
around her.

" Why do you linger ? " some spirit asked
her.

" I do not want heaven," she murmured ; " it
would not be heaven to me, apart from those I
love."

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

187

Back she floated to her home, and lingered
there — a silent, mournful spectre. Soon another
wife took her vacant place ; and, in anguish, she
beheld her children neglected, and her wealth
squandered in a reckless way. As the years
passed, her spirit wandered from place to place.
Her boys became wild, and were followed by
evil spirits. Oh, the anguish of that mother,
as she saw her loved ones in sin and crime !
This was her punishment ; it was a heavy one.

The pitying Saviour saw her misery, and was
touched with compassion. He sent bright
Spirits of Mercy to bear her to the realms of
the blessed. There her wounded soul received
peace. In time she became a Spirit of Mercy,
and she again descended to earth. Her home
was deserted, and her children scattered on the
face of the earth. But nothing could hide them
from a mother. She sought them out, and
gently touched their sinful hearts with thoughts
of childhood and mother. She had become so
pure, so bright, from her residence in brighter
spheres, that all evil spirits fled from before her.
Her boys hearkened to her spirit voice, and
repentance stole over them. No more they
sinned, but, guided by her spirit, they lived to-

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

become noble men. Now they enjoy the glory
of spirit life, saved by a mother's love. Such
things as this are happening every day.

I have told the foregoing to show that sin
and crime pain your loved ones who have gone
before. Think of that, criminals, when you are
inclined to sin. If you have a loved one in the
spirit world, be sure that your crime will cause
her pain. It is never too late to repent ; and
when your spirit shall enter this wondrous world,
you will see that your reward is great; for it
is written : " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,
neither have entered into the heart of man, the
things which God hath prepared for them that
love him." i Cor. ii. 9.

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i8s^

CHAPTER XVII.

SCENES I BEHOLD.

It is night in a large city, and a cold rain is fall-
ing. The autumn winds howl through the barren
tree-tops and scatter the withered leaves in all
directions. I hover near the poorest part of the
city, where angry voices and deep curses reach
me, as the night wind bears them heavenward,
where they are recorded in the book of life ; for
not an idle word or thought falls unnoticed.

In a dark, squalid street in this portion of the
town there stands a row of dark, dirty houses-
It is a place teeming with poverty and vice^
Many evil spirits are lurking m the shadows,
but I notice several Spirits of Light enter one of
those dwellings, and I follow them. I see a
scantily furnished room and signs of extreme
poverty. A dim light is burning, throwing faint
shadows on the narrow walls. Two pale, sickly
children are crying around a low old-fashioned
bed, on which lies the body of a man, whose

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

pale countenance, marked with death, wears a
resigned expression. Closely over him, and
drawing every moment nearer, is a Spirit of
Death, sent to call him to eternity. Kneeling
beside the bed is the figure of a woman, yet
young and beautiful ; a dark look of grief
is now on her face, for it is her husband — the
love and support of her life — who is so slowly,
but surely, dying. Spirits of Peace and Hope
linger beside her, and I watch the scene with
deep interest. The silence is broken by the
weak voice of the dying man, as his gaze
wanders wildly around. " Weep not," he says,
" I will soon be free from pain ; already the
dark waters are closing over me, and I can feel
the icy chill of death." Closer the loving wife
bends over him, hiding her own sorrows as she
clasps his hand.

" Have you any fear } " she asks. " Shall I
pray?"

" I have no fear," he replies. " I know not
what awaits me ; but all my life I have trusted
in God, and I can trust Him in death."

Sweetly she bends over him and repeats
*' The Lord is my Shepherd." Spirits of Mercy
and Hope crowd around her and strengthen

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

191

her soul. A smile of joy crosses the dying
man's features. Gently the Spirit of Death
breathes on him ; and, without a struggle, his
spirit comes forth, glorious and immortal.
Bright Angels of Light now enter and bear him
upwards, through the darkening clouds, to the
eternal rest he has won.

I linger with some other spirits beside the
lonely watcher, left desolate. There is no loud
outcry, no useless grief. She kneels for a while
in silent prayer, the white hands crossed meekly
over the lonely heart, the head humbly bowed,
as she murmurs : " Thy will be done." There is
a sob as she clasps her weeping children.
" Hush ! " she says. ** He is not dead — there is
310 death ; he is but gone before."

O loving faith! O gentle soul! thou hast
not seen ; thou hast no proof of eternal life ; but
Christ has said : " Blessed are they who believe,
yet have not seen."

Kind friends helped the widow and orphans.
She never became rich, but she possesses that
which wealth cannot buy — a Christian heart,
and God's blessing rests with her always.

The dawn is breaking as I float away to the
western portion of the city. Lofty mansions

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

now greet my view — houses of splendor and
wealth. I enter one of those wealthy mansions.
I behold a room — a perfect bower of beauty —
filled with all that money can buy ; but no bright
spirits hover near — only one Guardian Angel,
and she looks weary and sad. On the soft, tiny
bed a little child is dying, a sweet, innocent child
such as God loves. But no one has ever taught
her of God ; she knows nothing of Him and
His eternal home, for her parents are atheists.
She shrinks appalled from the touch of death ;
she has never heard that there is anything
beyond the grave, and to her childish mind all
is dark and cruel.

Lovingly the Guardian Angel encircles her,
keeping back the evil spirits who are in the room.

" She is mine," called out a Spirit of Darkness,
as it tried to reach her.

" Begone! " the Guardian Angel replied ; " if
she has sinned, on her parent's head rests the
blame ; for Christ has said : ' Suffer little children
to come unto Me.' "

The evil spirit drew back, conquered, and a
Spirit of Love floated, radiant, before the child.

" Mamma," she cried, " what is that ? I see
something all light, and it looks lovely."

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

193

"It is nothing," the mother replied; "there
is no one here but your father."

"Tell him to hold me," the child pleaded;
*' I am afraid to die."

The father raises her in his arms. "You
will soon fall asleep," he said, "and forget your
pain."

" But I am not sleepy — the room is full of
light," she answered faintly, "and I hear nice
music. Who are those people i.: white, with
such lovely faces? Will they take me with
them ? '*

''Tix^Y are fancies, my child," \he, father
answered ; "you have been dreaming."

" No, no, papa, perhaps they are the angels
nurse was speaking about."

"There are no angels, my child," the father
said ; and, as he spoke, her face grew dark with
fear.

" Oh ! " she sobbed, " if there were angels I '
should not be afraid ; it would not seem so
dark and cold, and they would take care of me.'*
In vain the heart-broken parents tried to ease
her dying hour. They could not comfort her
as to the future, for they did not believe in

194

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

any ; yet childish instinct whispered to their
darling of another life.

" Father, the pain is gone," she murmured,
" and a lovely lady is going to take me in her
arms."

Her eyes closed and a happy smile lingered
on her features. The Angel of Death loosened
her spirit, and, with a glad cry, I beheld her,
smiling in her innocence, as she floated past me
to a Sphere of Light.

" She sleeps," the mother said ; but the father
knows that she is dead, and gently lays her
down.

A costly funeral is provided, and the frail,
golden-haired darling is thought of as no more.
They can never picture her in her heavenly
home ; never know that she sometimes stands
in their very midst, laying her tiny hands on
their darkened hearts — for she would tell them
of the glory of her ever-wondering life, where
there is no more sin or death.

How many people there are who will not
believe in a future existence! Nothing will
convince them. Look around you, O doubting
soul, and see that nothing ever dies! The
flowers that fade to-day will blossom out again

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

»9S

in spring time. The leaves that wither and die
will soon be replaced by fresh ones. And so it
is with the soul : the outward covering will fade
and die, but the soul itself lives on in a brighter
life.

Man is not judged by his religion. There
are many Christians who profess to serve God,
yet, when they enter the Spirit World, they find
they have done nothing for Him. Those who
would he nearest God in the Spirit World must
be nearest Him on earth. They must follow in
the footsteps of His Son, Christ — humble, meek,
patient Christ — who chose for His friends poor,
humble fishermen.

Christians, be not proud ; think not your-
selves one above the other ; but love your
neighbor, however bad, however lost ! Remem-
ber only that a soul exists which God loves.
Above all be practical Christians. In days of
old, Christ said, *' Feed my sheep, feed my
lambs ; " and there are many of His flock in the
by-ways and hedges of life, waiting for help.
There is work for those willing ; and inasmuch
as they do it for one of the least of Christ's
brethren, they will have done it unto Him,

Every day I see many instances of man's

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

inhumanity to man. This defect in human
nature helps to darken man's existence. I have
seen a man break a woman's heart, and bring- a
parent's grey hairs in sorrow to the grave ; yet
he was rccci. cd in the best society. But let a
man practice Christianity, and the world sneers.
Blessed arc you when men revile you for Christ's
sake, for your reward is at hand !

One dark night I went with Alice on her
visiting the earth in answer to some appeal for
help. We entered the poor district of a large
city.

" Where are you going ? " I asked her, awed
by the look of glory on her countenance.

" I am going on the Master's service," she
answered. We floated into a humble dwelling.
I beheld a tired mother trying to hush the low
wailing of a sick child. On a narrow bed lay
the sleeping form of a man ; while beside him
stood a boy, who, I noticed, was trying ta
conquer temptation.

" I have come to save that boy," Alice
whispered. I looked and saw a dark spirit
stoop over the boy, who turned impatiently \x>
his mother.

" I can't stand this," he said ; " I will find
relief, if I have to steal."

BRIGirrER SPHERES. ,97

** Hush ! " the mother said, " can you not have
patience ? The Lord will provide."

Again the Spirit of Evil came forward ; but
this time I noticed that Alice stood between
him and the boy, who had moved towards the
door.

" Don't be anxious, mother," he said ; "since
you believe it sinful to steal, for your sake I
will beg."

He left the room, and we followed. " Come,"
said Alice, " I have another scene to show you."
We entered the fashionable part of the city,
and floated into a lofty mansion. Here I saw
about twenty ladies and gentlemen, who were
evidently holding a meeting of some sort. One
gentleman was quoting Scripture, and another
was writing a subscription list for some dona-
tion ; and I noticed that many of them signed
for large sums of money, as their names would
be sure to figure in the next day's paper. The
meeting then broke up. Alice called me with
her, and we followed a party of them towards
their wealthy homes. On the corner of a public
street stood the boy whose troubles had inter-
ested me. Now, I thought, he will find help,
these people are charitable and will assist him.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

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The first couple passed on without seeming ta
hear him ; but the others paused to listen to his
sad tale, and one lady drew out her well-filled
purse.

" Stop ! " said the man who had been quoting
Scripture, " I would like to investigate this
matter ; there are so many of this class of people
in the city. See here, my boy ! " he added,
" to-morrow I will find out if your tale is true ;
if so, we will help you." And they passed on,
while the boy gave a weary sigh as he mur-
mured, "to-morrow may be too late."

At that moment there came along an aged
man and a young girl ; they were poorly clad,
and appeared to be humble people. The girl
paused as she saw the boy in his lonely
attitude.

" What is wrong .'* " she asked ; " are you in
trouble .? "

'* Yes," replied a street urchin, who had over-
heard the boy's story ; " his pa is sick, and they
have no money to buy food."

" Poor little fellow ! " she said compassionately.
** See, grandpa ! " she said to her companion,
*' I will do without my new dress, and give the
money to this boy,"

BRIGHTER SPHERES, 199

The grandfather made no reply, but gave her
his purse.

" Here, h'ttle boy! "she said, "this is all the
money I have. If you tell me where you live,
I will go to-morrow and see your mother."

He took the proffered money, with tears of
gratitude, and the donor went smilingly on her
way.

"See," said Alice, "that is charity! The
first party were members of a leading church.
They give largely where their names will be
published to the world ; but that girl goes to
her humble home, glad that she has done good.
The world may never know of it j but God has
seen the act, and in after years it shall be
returned unto her in many ways."

" Give, and it shall be given unto you ; good
measure, pressed down, and shaken together,
and running over, shall men ^xmq into your
bosom. For with the same measure that ye
mete withal it shall be measured to you again."
— St. Luke vi. 38.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

CHAPTER XVIII.

MY MISSION.

I AM standing in a garden of Paradise. It is a
lovely spot, such as Eden must have been ; only
here no sin can enter to mar its peace and
beauty. From above me the bright-hued
radiance of a celestial sun is beaming on the
scene of glory. Strains of heavenly music are
wafted to me on the perfumed air, and I behold
bright-robed messengers, as they descend earth-
ward with direct blessings from the higher
spheres. In my hand is a parchment, containing
a written command as fpUows : —

'* Go FORTH, O Soul of Purity and Peace :

DESCEND to THAT SIN- BOUND REGION CALLED

Earth, and seek out Atheists and Un-
believers, AND ALL WHO BELIEVE NOT IN

Eternal Life, and v^ihsper to them of
God and Love. Perchance they will listen
to thy Spirit voice. Thou hast dwelt in

BRIGHTER SPHERES, 201

THE REGIONS OF THE BlESSKD, AND DIDST
PARTAKE OF THEIR GlORY. MaV ITS RADIANCE

FOLLOW THEE! And He who MA1>E TUY
SOUL WILL BLESS THEE WITH SUCCESS."

I folded the parchment, and, leaving my
heavenly home, floated towards the scene of
my mission.

While I lived on earth, I had known many
Atheists, but now T found they were more
numerous than I imagined. How could I reach
their darkened souls } They were a great cause
of sadness in Brighter Spheres. God is so great
and good that the very doubt of His existence
is the cause of pain to those wiser, who behold
the dull, joyless lives of Atheists. I, who had
been an unbeliever, could pity them.

I have hovered in the tents of the savage,
amid the wilds of the forest : I have wandered
among the wilds of Africa ; but I have seen none
so worthy of pity as he who, notwithstanding
modern education and mental culture, can say
" There is no God."

I drew near to America— my native land—
and brooded over it in silence. It was flourish-
ing and improving, yet everywhere were sin

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BRIGHTER SPHERES,

' ' f

n !

and evil ; and my spirit grew sad as I thought
of my mission.

** O city of my birth ! " I cried, " can I not
save thee ? Shall I wander amid the old scenes,
unnoticed ? Shall I stand in your very midst,

people, and you see me not ? In vain shall

1 proclaim to you there is a God — you Caiinot
hear me ; and if perchance I lay my spirit hands
upon your sin-stained hearts, you will not feel
their touch ! "

As I stood there, sadly musing, Alice joined
me, and I told her ol my mission, •

"You think it hard," she answered, " but
others will help you ; and I fondly hop*'; that
you will do some good."

At that moment the spirit-form of a vvoman
stood beside us. She was very beautiful, and
I looked at her in wonder as she smiled on me.

" Don't you know her ? " Alice asked. " It
is Rose ! " And so it was — more beautiful than
in life — more lovely than I had ever known her.
A pure, holy look softened her face ; no trace
remained of earthly passions. So changed was
she that I should not have known her.

" Come," she said, " I will help you ; together,,
we will work some good."

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

203

And so I began my mission. I hovered in
the home of the unbeh'ever : I attended meet-
ings held by Atheists ; and those men in their
darkened souls felt an influence for good which
they could not explain. But, alas ! it did not
last long. Worldly cares and evil spirits soon
banished all recollection of the good.

" It is all in vain," I thought ; " I can never
accomplish any good."

One dark, wet night I lingered in a crowded
city, seeking those who needed help. Evil
spirits were on the alert, and crime, poverty
and vice were all around.

" I wonder why it is," I thought, " that those
evil spirits are so powerful ! "

They are all the souls of those who have led
bad lives ; those who, when on earth, were pos-
sessed of an evil nature— a nature that changed
not, nor repented. Death may have appalled,
but not changed it. He who lives a life
of crime, with no desire to change it, passes into
the spirit-world retaining all his evil propensities.
Here a chance of repentance is held out to save
him, but he will not accept it ; he is content
rather to wander on the earth, leading better
men astray. Sometimes the spirits of good

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FyRIGIlTER SPHERES.

succeed in leading some of these evil ones to a
better life.

Wandering through the city, I beheld many
scenes of crime, many wretched lives. You who
dwell in wealth have no conception of the misery
among the poverty-stricken inhabitants of a
vast city — and where there is so much misery,
crime easily steps in ; yet a kindly-spoken word,
a helping hand, might arrest it. " Cast thy
bread upon the waters, and it shall return to
thee after many days."

Nor is charity to the poor the only way.
There are many of the rich in need of charity
— charity to be patient with their faults, charity
not to envy them. This is the hardest charity.
It is very easy for a rich man to help a poor
man ; but the poor man will find it hard to
have charity for the rich.

While wandering through the streets in com-
pany with Rose, I felt suddenly drawn towards
the outskirts of the city. I followed instinct,
and came to a deserted looking house — a place
such as people call haunted. I entered the
dwelling with Rose, and beheld a number of
people seated around a small table. There
were many spirits in the room, and they seemed

I )

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

205

hovering around the table. I noticed one lay-
ing his hands on it and it, moved in obedience
to his will.

" What docs this mean ? " I said to Rose.
** What are they doing ? "

" They are spiritualists," she answered. " See !
that boy is the medium. Draw closer and see
if you can understand the movement."

I did so, and saw that in some way the boy's
soul was responsive to those spirits, and they
gently gained power from him to move the
table ; and when he left the room they went
with him. This, I thought, would be a good
process for communicating with the sons of
men.

Every day after this I visited that house, but
found that, though the process would suit me,
I could not control the table. There was noth-
ing responsive in those people. Besides, they
were merely trying to gain information ; they
looked upon the movement as a species of
fortune-telling. The consequence was that the
spirits were of an inferior order, and the com-
munications inferior.

" This will never do," I thought. " I cannot
speak my commands to these people ; they
would not regard them in a proper light."

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:2o6 BRIGHTER SPHERES,

I determined to wait until such time as I
should find the right people to receive my work ;
for, I thought, in this way I might perhaps carry
out my mission. If I could only publish my
history to the world, people would see the
mistakes so often made. I talked it over with
Alice, and she agreed with me.

" Much good may result," she said, "if people
only know of this science."

" I will investigate it," I said ; " it must be
quite unknown as yet. I will endeavor to find
out the theory of the movement. Many grand
things may be the result."

1 first spoke about it to other spirits, and
found that many of them were familiar with the
process. It has existed since the beginning of
the world, but is only now coming into practice.
In olden days spirits frequently appeared, and
were seen. What happened then could surely
happen now, if God willed it. Indeed, spirits
sometimes appear at the scene of death —
especially in cases of murder or suicide ; or,
they are sometimes permitted to appear in
warning of some calamity. A man once told
me that during his life he held many conver-
sations, through this movement, with loved
ones gone before.

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BRIGHTER SPHERES. 207

I soon left America in the distance and turned
towards Canada, thinking that, amid the scenes
where I had found Christianity, I should find a
a way to fulfil my mission.

It was night in the City of Montreal. A quiet
stillness brooded over the land, and a gentle,
summer wind moved with a low, sighing
sound through the many branches of the trees.

In the suburbs of the city I encountered a
band of heavenly-looking spirits. I turned and
joint ri them. In the front of this band was the
form of a young girl. She was so bright and
fair to look upon, that I knew she had descended
from a high sphere.

*' Where are you going V I asked her.

" To a seance'' she replied.

A power draws us. Her manner inspired me
with confidence, and I told her of my mission.

" Come with us," she said, ** I know some one
worthy of your trust, it is my father. For
years," she went on to say, "he has studied
spiritualism, unmindful of the sneer^ and cen-
sures of the world. He has made it his religion,
and I think he of all others is the one for this
task." *

* Reference is here made to E. J. C, the writer of the Intro-
duction ; and the young girl, '* so bright and fair to look upon,"
is his daughter, who passed away in 1878, at the age of fifteen;

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208

BRIGHTER SPII^K

I went with her to the centre of the city.
We entered a house, and found a number of
persons seated around the small table used for
spiritualistic meetings. I waited while one of
the band controlled the table. The medium
was rather young and inexperienced in the
movement, but I found that I could control the
table for the purpose I had in view. I asked
them to write my history, and this work is the
result. I know not how the world will receive
it, but I trust that the God who has permitted
its production will bless it with success. Many
will doubt its truth. Others will regard it as
something supernatural ; and to them I answer
in the words of Christ : " Greater things shall
you see ; " but the hour is not yet come.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

209

CHAPTER XIX.

THE USE AND ABUSE OF SPIRITUALISM.

Many people will not understand how this
work was produced. Spiritualism is as yet
comparatively unknown, though practiced ex-
tensively thropghout the United States.' I
regret to say that, where money is the object,
fraud is introduced.

A spiritist is one who believes in the return
of departed souls to the earth they lived on, and
in conversing-by the power of a medium—
with them. This is done by a soul-force which
links us with humanity. In life one often meets
with a person who starts some hidden gift
within the soul— a person who draws and at-
tracts till a bond exists between two souls that
only death seems to sever. This is a language
of the soul. So in the medium we find a soul
responsive to our own. No bodily strength is
needed, or mind power, as some persons tliink.
It is a force by which we can either control the

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BRIGHTER SPHERES.

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medium or anything^ on which he lays his hand.
Thus, two or three people sit around a table —
one may be a medium ; if so, there will be some
spirit feel a force flowing from the medium,
which will impel and attract him ; then this
spirit can utilize the force, and the table becomes
obedient to his will. He need not touch the
table, but by his will can make it tilt. There are
also mediums who possess power to bring the
spirit to a materialized form, which can be seen
and recognized. These mediums are very rare ;
they need to be very pure and good, otherwise
evil spirits will cluster around.

There is nothing in spiritualism contrary to
Christianity. If properly used, it would prove
the existence of God, and waft the truth from
shore to shore.

Those who practice spiritualism should avoid
exercising their will on the table. Where a
number of persons are sitting, their united will
may cause the table to tilt and stop at the
required letters. This is not spiritualism.; it is
simply using mind over matter. In the true
movement the medium remains passive. The
spirit need not touch the table ; he may be far
away from it, but his will causes it to spell out
any sentence he may wish to communicate.

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

211

A medium is one who possesses a soul of
unusual power— a soul-force hard to analyze—
a subtle something which acts as a magnet in
the spirit world and draws us to the earth.
This power never dies ; it lives after the spirit
leaves the body. This is why spirits go about
m bands. The gentle spirit that led me here
possessed this power, which explains why I felt
so strangely drawn to follow the band who
clustered around her.

Much depends on the character of the me-
dium ; if of an indifferent disposition, the com-
munication will be of an inferior order; if of an
evil disposition, spiritualism becomes dangerous,
for then evil spirits will come.

I think that the Church of Rome believes in
spiritualism, though unconscious of the fact.
Wc read in the history of their saints of certain
apparitions and miracles. I believe that those
5o-called saints, by the self-sacrifice of their
lives, attained mediumistic power.

Those who read the Bible will find many

instances of this movement. We read of angels

in the tent of Abraham. I think all the

prophets possessed this power, which accounts

for their visions. Also, we read of other

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appearances, which can only be attributed to
spiritualism. I think it was practiced in olden
days ; then, it was called magic, or supernatural
agency.

The church teaches her children that at the
hour ofdeath they are sent direct to a heaven
of eternal rest, or to a hell of everlasting tor-
ment, according to the lives they have led.
This doctrine is pondered on, and thought of,
until gradually the mind revolts against it.
This accounts for so many Atheists, A man is
taught to look upon God as angry and unjust.
He is taught that for the sin within him he is
doomed ; and soon he tells himself that such
laws are unjust — no God could have created
millions of human souls to doom them forever.
"There is no God," he says to himself: this con-
viction grows upon him, and it may take years,
to convince him of the truth.

O man, how little is thy faith ! how un-
reasonable thy soul ! the God that made thee
will not lose thee from His sight. The dark-
ness of sin may obscure thee ; clouds of crime
may cover thee ; but ever watchful is the eye
of God, penetrating the mists, and blessing thee
in His mercy. If God was presented to the

BRIGHTER SPHERES. j,-

world as He really is, so many would not
doubt Hfm ; He would be accepted and trusted,
for He is worthy of all trust, worthy of all love.
Many may wonder why Christ did not insti-
tute the subject of spiritualism, when on earth ;
but, as it is not necessary to salvation, and
as the world was then in its dark a-es it
would not have been understood. Even now it
IS put to improper use, and used as a species of
fortune-telling. This is wrong. God alone
holds the key of the future, and His agents are
not permitted to reveal it. If through this
movement you seek to find out the future, you
will surely receive false communications. God
alone is omniscient. .Spirits are w.^ser than
mortals, yet they do not know everything.

It is a grievous sin to practice fraud Tn this
movement; for it is no light subject to converse
with those who have passed the river of death
_ Should the spirit of some loved one, material-
ued stand in the midst of a family, appearing
>n all the unspotted purity of his celestial home
among the sinful dwellers of the earth, and
deliver to them some message of heavenly truth
would man then believe, I wonder > or would
he still doubt > Man is such an unreasonable

I'l "«"

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PyRIGIITER SPHERES,

creature ; he will not believe anything he cannot
understand.

Spiritualism is a divine gift of God, and
should not be misused. I would advise many
not to i)ractice it, as they are not good enough.
They try it for the mrre sake of gaining infor-
mation ; and when they fail in this they abuse
the movement, and say there is no truth in it.
Now, there are many spirits wandering around
who have led wicked lives. The evil is not yet
purified from their nature ; and when they get
a chance of conversing with men through diis
movement, they resort to all kinds of talk,
which injures the movement.

To those who do not wish to believe in
spiritualism, I would like to say that, if rightly
practiced, it would prove a blessing. There is
nothing unnatural in it ; it only proves St.
Pauls words ; for he says of the body : " It is
sown a natural body ; it is raised a spiritual
body ; there is a natural body, and there is a
spiritual body." Not only this, but it proves to
man the existence of immortal life.

I do not understand why the Church is so
against the movement. The only harm it can
do, is to confute the -doctrine of eternal punish-

BRIGHTER SPHERES. 215

ment, which has never done much good. If a
man is forced to do good through fear of hell,
instead of with the idea of pleasing God, he'
makes a very poor Christian.

Many will wonder at my contradiction of a
doctrine founded on the words of Christ— so
deeply misunderstood. Those who wish to
investigate the truth will find the words are
wrongly translated. There is punishment for
sin in the burning flames of a guilty conscience.
When a man looks back to earth and beholds
his descendants suffering for the sins he has
committed, how deep is the anguish that thrills
his mind— the innocent children made to bear
the burden of another's sin ; for the sins of the
father are visited on the children, unto the third
and fourth generation !

Those who practice spiritualism should do so
in all harmony and peace, for the least discord
jars on the sensitive soul of the medium, and
weakens the force that draws us. Let united
love and harmony prevail, and the result will
be a bond of unity which draws us closer to
humanity.

To those who do not believe in the move-
ment I say : " Seek and you shall find for your-

2l6

DRICIITER SI 'III-: RES.

self the truth." There is too much dissension
on earth for the truth to spread to many different
sects and creeds.

There are many who do not believe in the
Divinity of Christ. To those I say, HE IS
Divine. He is the purest, holiest spirit, after
God, and dwells with Him in the highest heavens.
I PROCLAIM IT IN A VOICE FROM THE UNSEEN
WORLD. He was " perfect God and perfect
man ; of a reasonable soul and human flesh
subsisting ; and as the soul and flesh were one
man, so God and man are one Christ." Those
who say otherwise have much to learn.

And the very Christ, despised on earth, is the
one we look to in spirit life. We hear His voice
speaking to those who have completed their
mission : " Enter, ye blessed, into the Kingdom
of my Father."

As for those who will not believe in Thee, O
patient Christ, fain would I echo thy sorrowful
words : ** Father, forgive them, for they know
not what they do."

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

217

CHAPTER XX.

THE END.

Many people have a theory that at the hour of
death they enter a place called heaven. Now
this heaven is supposed to exist beyond the
clouds, where golden harps and sweet music fill
the air with strains of melody ; and, once the
soul enters, there it remains for ever.

Now I would like to ask some of these people,
would they be content with such a life ? Would
it be heaven to them, apart from all dearest to
their nature } No, heaven extends through
unlimited space, and is not confined to one
particular spot. Think of the rapture of wander-
ing from one glorious spot to another. And
then, those who have the desire may hover near
the loved ones left on earth.

Oh happy state ! what joy it is to mingle,
unseen, among the different worlds of God's
creation ! Many of them are m uch more beauti-
ful than the earth you dwell on.

2l8

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

i '■

Do not wonder that the inhabitants of
Brighter Spheres are so rarely visible to those
on earth. It takes a strong power to enable us
to materialize. Yet this power is valuable,
for it would prove to unbelievers the truth of
immortality.

As I hover near, dictating this, there softly
comes to me the spirit of a woman, fair to look
upon. I have met her before amid the glories
of Brighter Spheres, where she unfolded to me
a portion of her history. She had once stood
visibly on earth. The way she relates the tale
is as follows : —

Not long ago there dwelt beside the seashore
a humble fisherman who was an Atheist ; yet
his only child — a daughter — was a sincere
Christian. It was the only trial of her life, try-
ing to convince her father of the truth.

One summer's day there came to that spot a
youth — a descendant of a noble race. There,
where the wild waves whispered to him of a
brilliant future, he met his fate. He beheld the
fair maiden, and it was the old story — a
father's anger and a maiden's tears. The re-
sult was a quiet marriage ; and forth from her
home, into the world, she went. But soon came

BRIGHTER SPHERES.

2\<y

the awakening. Like some flower, transplanted
from its native soil, she drooped, until at last
death released her spirit ; and her first thought
was to try and let her father know that, though
dead to the world he lived on, she still existed
in a purer, better life.

It was night in the old man's dwelling, and
for miles around the snow-drifts lay in an un-
broken tract. The old home was inaccessible
to the approach of man, but in the house an
old neighbor was passing the night. He
possessed the power of a medium. This drew
the spirit of the maiden onward, till gradually
she assumed the outward covering of the soul.
She stood there, visible to the eyes of her father,
and assured him of a future life ; and then, as
he tried to clasp her, she slowly vanished from
his sight. Now he no longer doubts ; he has
seen proof of immortal life. I merely relate
this because that man is living yet, and, if he
reads this, can verify the statement.

And now one more scene before I close this
record. It is my father's house, and he is alone.
There is no joy around him, no mirth, no child-
ish laughter. Bereft of earthly hope, for him
the future holds nothing but despair. Sadness

220

liRIGlITER SPHERES,

comes over my spirit as I behold him. Fain
would I stand before him and tell him of my
life, but the power is not there. Will he read
this book, I wonder ? If he does, my task will
not have been in vain.

O God ! who lovest all mankind, Thou
knowest well my mission ; in no other way but
this could I accomplish it. Look Thou kindly
upon it, O God ! and send it forth into the
doubting world with Thy earnest blessing.

And now the prophetic instinct steals upon
my soul. I see mankind believing in this work.
I see the world better, purer, for having read it.
I see the bonds of brotherhood and love extend-
ing throughout the universe, and all voices
acknowledging Christ as God.

And now farewell, O earth ; nothing more
remains to tell you, O people of the world ! In
a little while, perhaps, you will behold the glories
I now revel in. Soon I shall ascend into a
higher sphere, where new joys :iv/; it me. Yet I
will not desert you. When yciu see the trees
budding forth in spring-time, I will have more
to tell you. To those who will find fault with
this work, I have but one excuse to ofTer.
During life I was not a writer ; and if I have

BRIGHTER SPHERES,

221

accomplished in death what was not permitted
in life, surely you can be lenient with all
mistakes.

Now again I say, "farewell," with many
thanks, to those who took an active part and
deep interest in the production of this work
— especially to her who, throuc^h many trials,
never failed me yet. And when for each of
you the Stream of Life is ended, and you stand
upon the eternal shore, then shall I seek you,
and we will wander together through the ever-
increasing glory and delight of Brighter Spheres.
Even now there comes to me the far-ofif echo of
heavenly music. You cannot hear it, nor can
you see the bright-robed messengers of mercy,
who come to bear me upward. Shall I see the
Saviour there, I wonder ? Will He bless me for
the task I have done > A flood of deep radiance
steals over my soul ; joy, rapture, glory, uplift
me. Earth is fading from my sight. My
mission is ended ; my task is done. Brighter
grows the light around me. I breathe on thee
a blessing ere I vanish. Ah I I hear the Saviour
calling on me from afar. To Thee, O Christ,
my Lord, I come.

THE END,