"And how," said he, "can I minister to thy sorrow ?" A transport seemed to agitate the spirit, and she lifted up her mistlike and impalpable arms, and cried,-- "Give me--oh, give me to return to earth, but for one little hour, that I may visit my Adenheim; and that, concealing from him my present sufferings, I may comfort him in his own." "Alas!" said the angel, turning away his eyes,--for angels may not weep in the sight of others,--"I could, indeed, grant thee this boon, but thou knowest not the penalty.

For the souls in Purgatory may return to Earth, but heavy is the sentence that awaits their return.

In a word, for one hour on earth thou must add a thousand years to the torture of thy confinement here!" "Is that all ?" cried the spirit.

"Willingly then will I brave the doom.
Ah, surely they love not in heaven, or thou wouldst know, O Celestial Visitant; that one hour of consolation to the one we love is worth a thousand ages of torture to ourselves! Let me comfort and convince my Adenheim; no matter what becomes of me." Then the angel looked on high, and he saw in far distant regions, which in that orb none else could discern, the rays that parted from the all-guarding Eye; and heard the VOICE of the Eternal One bidding him act as his pity whispered.

He looked on the spirit, and her shadowy arms stretched pleadingly towards him; he uttered the word that loosens the bars of the gate of Purgatory; and lo, the spirit had re-entered the human world.
It was night in the halls of the lord of Adenheim, and he sat at the head of his glittering board.