the flute, but played with such uncertainty, that she looked at him
with surprise. Music was the worst remedy she could have tried to
quiet the disturbance in his soul; for its voice evoked ghosts of the
past.

"I am really tired, Lily," said he; and, affecting a drowsiness he did
not feel, he proposed retiring for the night.

The chamber was beautiful with the moon shining through its
rose-tinted drapery, and the murmur of the ocean was a soothing
lullaby. But it was long before either of them slept; and when they
slumbered, the same voice went singing through their dreams. He was in
the flowery parlor at New Orleans, listening to "The Light of other
Days"; and she was following a veiled shadow through a strange garden,
hearing the intermingled tones of "Norma" and "Toll the bell."

It was late in the morning when she awoke. Gerald was gone, but
a bouquet of fragrant flowers lay on the pillow beside her. Her
dressing-gown was on a chair by the bedside, and Venus sat at the
window sewing.

"Where is Mr. Fitzgerald?" she inquired.

"He said he war gwine to turrer plantation on business. He leff dem
flower dar, an' tole me to say he 'd come back soon."

The fair hair was neatly arranged by the black hands that contrasted
so strongly with it. The genteel little figure was enveloped in a
morning-dress of delicate blue and white French cambric, and the
little feet were ensconced in slippers of azure velvet embroidered