What would become of the
music if it wasn't for the instrument?"
"That's a beautiful illustration, my dear," observed Sophie, after a
thoughtful pause, "but I think it can be used better the other way. The
music of love, like other music, is an existence by itself, exclusive of
the flesh-and-blood instruments, which weren't given us to create music,
but to interpret it to our earthly senses. Our souls are the players;
but in the next world we shall be able to perceive the harmony without
need of any medium. We can remember music, too, and enjoy it, long after
we have heard it--that is why we don't need to be always together. And
yet it's always sweet to meet, to hear a new tune; and the number of
tunes is infinite; so love needs all eternity to make itself complete."
When Sophie hit upon an idea which seemed to her spiritually beautiful
and harmonious, she was apt to be carried away--sometimes, perhaps, into
deep water. Yet thus, occasionally, did she catch glimpses of higher
truths than a broader and safer wisdom could have attained. Cornelia
took one of the glowing leaves out of her basket, and looked at it.
Perhaps she saw, in the perfect earthly self-sufficiency of its
splendor, something akin to herself.
"I suppose I don't half appreciate your theory, Sophie, though it's
certainly pretty enough.
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