At length his curiosity got the better of him.
"What are you thinking of ?" he asked.
"Do you wish me to tell you ?" "Yes, if you will." "You will laugh at me." "Yes--as I laugh at that sky, and sea, and star." "Well, then, I was thinking of the old, eternal difference between the present and the future." "You mean between life and death ?" queried Morris, and she nodded, answering: "Between life and death, and how little people see or think of it.

They just live and forget that beneath them lie their fathers' bones.

They forget that in some few days--perhaps more, perhaps less--other unknown creatures will be standing above _their_ forgotten bones, as blind, as self-seeking, as puffed up with the pride of the brief moment, and filled with the despair of their failure, the glory of their success, as they are to-night." "Perhaps," suggested Morris, "they say that while they are in the world it is well to be of the world; that when they belong to the next it will be time to consider it.

I am not sure that they are not right.

I have heard that view," he added, remembering a certain conversation with Mary.
"Oh, don't think that!" she answered, almost imploringly; "for it is not true, really it is not true.