was so silent as they walked toward the house, that she feared
he was seriously offended with her.

As they entered the parlor she said, "I didn't think you cared about
my not going out, Gerald, except on account of my taking cold; and
with my shawl and nubia I don't think there was the least danger of
that. It was such a beautiful night, I wanted to go out to meet you,
dear."

He kissed her mechanically, and replied, "I am not offended, darling."

"Then, if the blue devils possess you, we will try Saul's method of
driving them away," said she. She seated herself at the piano, and
asked him whether he would accompany her with voice or flute. He tried
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
with silver. The dainty breakfast, served on French porcelain, was
slowly eaten, and still Gerald returned not. She removed to the
chamber window, and, leaning her cheek on her hand, looked out upon
the sun-sparkle of the ocean. Her morning thought was the same with
which she had passed into slumber the previous night. How strange it
was that Gerald wo