confidences; no topic is so universally and permanently interesting
as religious experience. Elizabeth felt its charm at once. She loved
God, but loved him, as it were, afar off; she almost feared to speak
to him. She had never dared to speak of him.

"Do you really think, Phyllis, that angels care about our earthly
loves?"

"Yes, I do. Love is the rock upon which our lives are generally built
or wrecked. Elizabeth, if I did not believe that the love of God
embraced every worthy earthly love, I should be very miserable."

"Because?"

"Because, dear, I love, and am beloved again."

"But how shall we know if the love be worthy?"

"Once in class-meeting I asked this question. That was when I first
became aware that I loved John Millard. I am not likely to forget the
answer my leader gave me."

"What was it?"

"Sister Phyllis," he said, "ask yourself what will your love be to
you a thousand ages hence. Ask yourself if it will pass the rolling
together of the heavens like a scroll, and the melting of the elements
with fervent heat. Ask if it will pass the judgment-day, when the
secret thoughts of all hearts will be revealed. Dare to love only one
whom you can love forever."