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The poor should raise their hearts and cry Had 1 the gift of son", That (iod preserves them, though they die Had I the gift of The wicked should forsake his way, The good grow better every day. Had I the gift of song. The little children, poorly clad. Should clap their bands in glee— The old and needy should be glad. And smile to welcome me ; For 1 would sing the sweetest song— Would make them happy all day long Of Christ on calvary ; And. piping on my glorious reed, I would exulting sing, Until the key-note of His creed Throughout creation ring; And 1 would teach the rich to give. And tell the weary how to live, Like Christ, through suffering. And charity slionld be my theme, Had I the gift of song; Humanity should thenceforth seem, Had 1 the gift of song,— To he the watchword, ringing far. From sun to sun, from star jo star. Had I the gilt of song. LFor The Sunny South.] THE MYSTERY Air-Ships of the Future. (See Tennyson’s “ Locksley Hall.”) CEDAR BAY BY MARY E. BKTA.N. CHAPTER XII. The conversation has been carried on during an intermission in the entertainment. Now, the music began again, and Adrienne, who had been standing among the audience, surrounded by a group of admirers of both sexes, as she al ways was when in society, now turned towards the stage, so that her lovely profile and figure were conspicuously visible to the two who stood in the window of the gallery. Mr. De Forest laid his hand on Marian's. “ Yon called me fitted for a social ornament just now—which was a mistake,” he said; “but yonder stands one fitted to queen it in the social world right royally. Adrienne De Forest was born to win love as well as admiration. She has enough electric power to attract, without any of the fatal overplus of that element which belongs to genius and which ends in repulsion. Her adorers prate of her sweetness, her frankness. Fools ! they do not know what real reserve, what tion that exists for him here, unknown to me. He is an old lover of yours, perhaps; or—” He broke off as Jep, his confidential negro servant, came up and doffed his palmetto hat. “Well, sir, you have come back after so long a time.” “Had to wait, marstah. Somethin’ happened to the ingine, and set the train back.” “And Mr. Birne?” “He’s done come. I showed him up to bis room, and give him your message, and the clothes you said he ” “Hush! Excuse my leaving you, Mis^Orme. The young amateur—sorry dabbler in art,' i sus pect him to be—who was so anxious to view the beauties of the wilderness, has arrived. If the said beauties are your charms, and he is an old admirer that has found out your where abouts, pray pardon me for my irreverent com ment on his art capabilities. There goes the curtain. It is the ‘Foe’s Return.’ How well Alice looks her part! That startled pose, the figure advanced, the white arms still lifted, holding out the laurel crown for the head of the unknown victor, she has in that instant’s glance found to he her slanderous persecutor; the look of sudden fear and horror frozen on her face. Yes, she does that well. She is an apt actress—like her fair sister. You are a gifted depths of secresy hide under that shallow surface | trio—the three Graces; ’ and with his half play- frankness. This well-concealed reserve is one J ful, half mocking bow, he quitted her side. secret of her social success ” Evidently, the arrival of the expected visitor, “A society queen, yet immersed in a solitude,” lightly as he spoke of him, had excited him murmured Marian. ' j strangely. His eyes sparkled, and a feverish “It is her own choice.” j flush leapt into his sallow, olive cheek. “And why?” I After he had left her, Marian stood for a mo- “Because,” he answered impressively, “he- j ment alone, leaning against the window-frame cause there is one thing she cares more tor than j and watching the stage, until Adrienne saw her society.” ! an *l beckoned her to a seat beside her. “And what is that?” “I had been looking around for you,” she "Her husband, of course,” he replied with a ! said, putting her hand into her sister's when low laugh of such mocking bitterness that Ma- | the two were seated together, rian could find no response. j The thin, white hand was cold as stone, and A moment after he continued, still watching | looking at her face when the smile had faded his wife: I from it, Marian saw that it was pale and weary. “Look how lovely she is ! To what shall we | “She is remembering that this is the first of compare her as she stands there, bending to the j June,” the elder sister thought, sorrowfully, breath of compliment, in that floating diapho- j Before the next scene was presented, a little nous, pale-green drapery, lik6 woven wind?” j girl who had been one of the fairies in a repre- “Tothe Nereid of some mountain lake, ris- j sentation of “Falstaff at the haunted oak of ing from her reeds and lilies to watch the sun- j Windsor Forest,” came from behind the scenes rise,” suggested Marian. ; by a side exit, and, making her way through the “Never! She is a Luralee—a soulless syren, 1 audience to Adrienne, dropped a small roll of such as sang in treacherous seas and lured men paper into her lap. She read what was written to their destruction, waving arms white as hers, j on it, and handed it to Marian. It was from the and smiling a cold, sweet smile like hers, when | madcap Maude Bevyl, the privileged beauty they beheld their victims dashed on the rocks.” j and heiress, who was the moving spirit of the tableau scheme, and ran: “ Ma Belle Incomparable,—I beseech you to do your humble servant a favor. Take my place in the next tableau hut one—‘ Beautiful Icicle.’ I find myself suddenly indisposed, and consent 'I cannot follow you in your fantasy; I do not see the resemblance.” “What! you do not see it in those eyes?— blue-green, like the sea, and as cruel!—smooth, and bright, and cold, giving no sign, hut watch ful, unforgetting, inexorable, like the tide that creeps npon you and destroys you ?” His fingers closed upon Marian’s arm with a vice-like grasp; his eyes fixed themselves upon his wife with burning intensity. Marian knew not what to say. She felt herself brought in contact with the mystery, and it bewildered her. “If Adrienne is cold,” she at last murmured, feeling the need of some soothing word, “it is to having no substitute but yourself. It will need no change of dress. Do this, like the angel you are, and oblige Your ardent worshipper, Maude.” “ I don't believe in that sudden indisposition in the sense of illness,” Adrienne said. “It is some caprice of Maude Bevyl’s; but I can hardly refuse her request without appearing ill-natured. The character requires nothing but to look list only in seeming. As a child she was reserved; less—an easy role to me; though I did hear some- she—” | thing about a sequel to the scene—one gotten “Who said she was cold? She is more im- up to-day,_ without previous rehearsal. Will passioned than yon can guess; she is capable of you go behind the scenes with me, Marian ?” mad, insane worship. If you had seen—” He j “No, I think not,” Marian answered, stopped abruptly, looked around and met Ma- ! She had also had a little roll of paper dropped rian’s compassionate, troubled look. Forcing a into her hand, on which was penciled: smile, he said: “ Sit where you are. You will see our Luralee “ How silly to be vehement about such a ca- j is not as cold as she seems.” pricious trifle as a woman’s temperament; frost ! Marian was prepared to look with intense in- one moment, fire the next—phosphoric fire, most terest at the next tableau, hut when the curtain likely, without a spark of real heat But I am i rose, it disclosed nothingpeeuliar; only a woman nervous to-night. I looked for some one who I listening with proud, weary indifference to what has not come; and it is always irritating to he j seemed the ardent utterances of her fiance, disappointed, even about a small matter like who leant over her with worshipping looks, this. What can have delayed the cars to-day ? | as she sat listlessly dangling a diamond neck- I sent the carriage to the depot at three, and j lace, evidently his recent gift. “Of a Beautiful it has not yet returned. Four is the hour for j Icicle ’ Adrienne made a faultless personifica- the train to come from Tallahassee.” j tion. The fair face, white arms and throat, “You are looking for a friend?” j and pale-gold hair, were in keeping, as was the “No, no friend: merely a chance acquaint- j dress, pale-green and translucent as an iceberg: ance I met in Maryland—the same I mentioned j the only change in costume being that a veil of before you a short time ago, when his letter ] white embroidered lace fell around the light- came saying he would reach here cn the first of green robe dropping from her forehead, where June. I hardly thought he would delay beyond \ it was held in place by a diamond star. A dark- tile promised time. He seemed so anxious to j green curtain had partitioned off a portion of come—invited himself, in fact. It is possible i the stage, while this scene was being repre- that his eagerness may be due to some attrac-' sented. The drop-curtain descended, hut rose a moment after upon the same figures in differ ent attitudes. And now, the portion of the stage that had been concealed by the green drapery was disclosed. The curtains were drawn either side, and showed a recess designed to represent the cell of a necromancer. A stuffed owl was perched above the entrance; a skull stood on a small table at the left hand of the tall, hideously- imposing shape that sat in the door of the cell. In spite of the painted wrinkles and flow ing white beard of the wizard, Marian recog nized the piercing dark eyes as Mr. De Forest's. At his rigljt was a harp^ Marian started to see by the anriqife snape’nod elaborate carving that it was the,instrument Aubrey De Forest had been wont to play upon/and Aijrietane had held sa cred from other touch. How had it come to be on the stage? Marian had not seen it there be fore, hut it might have been in one of the dress ing-rooms, concealed by drapery or by the stands of flowers and pots of evergreen that decorated the stage. She thought she perceived by Adri enne’s countenance that the sight of it there was a surprise to her also. “It will remind her yet more of what to-day is an anniversary,” Marian thought; and she noticed that Adrienne seemed to shrink and shudder as her companion, holding her hand, drew her forward towards the cell, and appeared by his gesture to ask the wizard concerning her fortune, his fond, smiling, confident eyes seem ing to be sure that he himself was his lady’s fate. In answer, the wizard waved his hand towards a tall mirror that stood farther back in the recess, only the tarnished gilt frame at the top visible, as the mirror itself had a black curtain drawn across it. Then the seer bowed his head over the harp and touched the strings, eliciting a wailing note. Marian saw her sister’s arm stretched out with a quick, appealing movement, and then drop to her side, while she stood and listened, mute and pale, to the music of a dirge. Every other sound was still; the audience sat in dead silence. The stage had been partially darkened, and the black- robed wizard, with the skull beside him, the owl above his head, gave emphasis to the solemn in vocation that poured from the antique harp. At last, the musician’s hand dropped from the strings. While the final sounds still filled the ear, he raised his arm and pointed with long, pale finger to the magic mirror. Slowly the curtain parted, as if withdrawn by invisible hands, and revealed as in the glass the form of a man in the dress of a mountain tourist—a furred coat and cap, and an Alpine staff in his hand. His look was bent on Adrienne; a strange, dreamy smile lit his features. Marian gave one glance at the apparition, and then her eyes turned to Adrienne. As they fell upon the ghastly face, the eyes with their strained, wild gaze, she started up to make her way to her sis ter’s side. But at that instant, stretching out her arms and uttering a low cry of mingled terror and tenderness, Adrienne sprang forward a step and fell to the floor, almost at the foot of the mirror. The curtain descended at once, and the audience thought it a piece of clever acting; Marian knew better. Hurrying upon the stage, she found her sister supported by the “Appari tion,” who had rushed from his place inside the mirror-frame and lifted Adrienne from the floor. “Show me the nearest way to the fresh air,” he said to Marian; and she at once led the way to the curtained-off dressing room at the side of the stage, and throwing open the blind of the window that opened on the piazza, stepped out into the cool air, and was followed by the stranger. “ It is only a slight faint; let her be quiet, please,” she said, to keep hack the curious or anxious friends who would have gathered around. Hardly had the fresh wind blown npon her when Adrienne showed signs of reviving. With a deep, sigh-like breath, she opened her eyes. They fell first upon the face that in the magic mirror had caused her agitation: but now it was an emotion of joy that flashed over her features. She murmured a word—a name; Marian could not distinguish what it was, for at that instant a head was bent down and thrust between her and Adrienne. She saw the white beard of the wizard. As he raised his head directly after, she saw his face distorted by a look in which an guish and malignant satisfaction were strangely blended. As he walked away, Adrienne stretched out her hand, uttering faintly: Where is Ma- “ What has happened to me ? | rian ?” | “I am here. You have had a fainting fit, hut | you are over it. Give me your hand. Can you j raise yourself up and sit here by me, and lean j upon me ?” “ Oh ! yes; I am quite well, except a little diz- | ziness. Marian, who was that? What face was | that ?—the one in the mirror ?—the | She stopped and grasped her sister’s hand ! convulsively as she saw the face before her j again. The stranger bent his head respectfully, “I am afraid I have taken an unpardonable \ liberty in taking part in your tableaux—a stranger j in the first hour of my arrival; hut it was by Mr. De Forest’s request that I did so. When I came, I found this costume in the room and a message waiting me, asking that I would put it on and take part in your amusements, representing some character I suited. My host came up soon after and repeated the request, and I yielded to his wish; hut if I have caused any sorrow or oc casioned any annoyance, I am truly sorry. ” “ You have done no harm. You have been to blame for nothing,” Adrienne said gently. He looked at her—lair, spiritual being as she seemed in the moonlight that found its way into the piazza, and bent nearer. “Lady, we have met before,” he said, speak- inglow. “I remember well.” Dr. Norris came out at this moment, accom panied by his mother and Alice. They had been among the audience while the last scene was represented, and had just now heard a whisper that something had happened to throw it in some confusion. Adrienne assured them that she had fully recovered from the slight faintness. “ To prove it, give me your arm, Mrs. Norris. We will go in and hasten the dancing. It is already late to begin it. ‘ I said to the rose, The brief night goes.’ ” She bent her head with stately grace to the stranger, and moved off with her followers. A certain nervous haste in her movements made Marian suspect her object had been to avoid coming face to face with Mr. De Forest, whom she had seen approaching her in an opposite di rection. A stern, indignant look had flashed into her eyes when she saw him coming towards her, and she had turned instantly and put her hand on Dr. Norris’ arm. Marian had stayed behind. She was in no humor for music and dancing. The cool gloom of the piazza accorded better with her mood, sad and perplexed over what she had seen and heard to-night How should she interpret Mr. DeForest’s words ? How account for Adrienne’s agitation at the sight of this stranger? She glanced over at him, as he stood talking to Mr. DeForest, evidently, from some words that she caught, deprecating his having taken part in the acting, and fearing that it had caused confusion and disagreeable surprise. “On the contrary, the surprise seemed any thing but disagreeable, and the acting was cer tainly improved by it,” her brother-in-law an swered in his polished, silvery tones, that yet seemed to hold a covert significance that made an annoyed frown flit over the expressive fea tures of the man he addressed. He hit his lip under his light moustache, and said no more on the subject. He was young, with a firm, frank ly-featured face, a military carriage, a quick, impulsive energy in look and movement, and earnest, winning voice. This much Marian no ticed, as, leaning against a pillar half in shad ow, she watched him with the lamp light on his clear-cut profile. A large evening moth flitting about among the honeysuckles brushed her cheek with its downy wing, causing her to start and attract the attention of Mr. DeForest. “Is it yon, Miss Kent, playing misanthrope among the shadows?” he said, and joined her with his companion, presenting him as “Syd ney Birne, the visitor I mentioned expecting.” “He has refused to go in and endure the in fliction of a regular presentation,” he said, “ so I leave him to you for the present. Be gentle with him ; his nerves are shaken by his late adventure.” Mr. Birne laughed, but not cordially, and when Mr. DeForest had gone he said : “ To tell the truth, I am not disposed to make light of my late adventure. Insignificant enough ; hut I have no right to speak of them, since she has not done so, even to you—a friend of hers, I presume.” “ I am her sister.” “Her sister!” The eyes flashed their blue t fire upon her with sudden, keen interest. “Yet you do not resemble her,” he said, noting in that swift glance the dark, gentle, firm-lipped face, the full brow, crowned with dark braids. “ She is Miss Kent, then ?” “Is it possible you do not know she is Mr. DeForest’s wife ?” “His wife! Mr. DeForest’s wife!” he ex claimed in startled surprise. Then he was silent. The stream of lamp light grazing his cheek showed it flushed hotly. He laughed a short, embarrassed laugh. “ By Jove, I've made a mess of it,” he said. “Excuse me, Miss Kent ; you shall have the whole story. I saw your beautiful sister in a picture gallery in Berlin. Her lovely Naiad grace, her face with its veiled melancholy inter ested me more than the pictures did. I watched her as she moved from one painting to another, and being a dabbler in the divine art, I sketched her face as well as I could. As I worked at the outlines, she came near where I sat. There was no one with her hut a servant. The hem of her robe touched me as she stood listlessly contem plating a picture, her thoughts seeming to reach beyond it. Suddenly I rose to move further. She turned her dreamy eyes on me; a wild look came into them; she stared at me pale as stone; she caught her breath with a convulsive gasp that was half a cry. She would have fallen, I think, had not her strong-armed Swiss servant caught her. “ ‘Go away,’ the woman cried to me in French. ‘You scare her to death.’ “ And off I went, mortified and puzzled that my appearance should frighten this lovely being. But I watched outside, until I saw the lady come out and drive away in her carriage. I made a fruitless attempt to follow her, and nev er saw her again. I finished the sketch I had made, and when I met Mr. DeForest in Mary land two weeks ago, I showed it to him. We had met by chance ; he had been singularly friendly, had sought my acquaintance, inquired into my history, and asked to see my portfolio of sketches—amateur work, and unfit to he criti cised. The lady’s face struck him at once. He seemed so interested that I told him the little story connected with it. I am afraid I rhapso dized a good deal about ‘ la belle incognita, ’ and uttered some romantic nonsense about 1 desti ny,’ and the hope I cherished that I would meet my fair unknown again. Finally, he told me that he was sure the original of the sketch lived near him at Cedar Bay. Whereupon, I half jestingly proposed to go there and have him arrange that I should meet her—a proposition which he encouraged. Not once did he inti mate that the lady was his wife. It was too bad; it was malicious. What could he have meant by it, Miss Kent ?’* “Only a jest, perhaps,” Marion answered. She had asked herself the same question, and could think of no satisfactory answer. “It’s a jest I don't relish. It puts me in a ridiculous light before him, and, I fear, an im pertinent one before his wife. Pardon me ; hut I should like to know why the sight of me affects her as it seems to do.” “That is something I cannot tell you.^ Are you sure you have no idea as to its cause ?” “ None. I have told you every circumstance connected with my knowledge of your sister. His frank eyes, the manly ring of his voice, cleared the mist of suspicion from Marian s mind. “Whatever be the reason, 1 shall not distress her any more. I will go hack to St. Marks to night, and my first appearance at Cedar Bay shall be my last. I must see Wakullah Springs before I leave this vicinity. I have heard much of its beauty. Ah! there is Mrs. De Forest at the window. What a poor shadow of her beau tiful face my sketch is! I think I could do bet ter now, if I could have her sit for me. She sees us; she is beckoning you to come to her. Do not mind leaving me.” “ Will you not come with me ?” He hesitated, but at last walked on with Marian to the upper end oi the piazza, where, at one of the drawing-room windows opening to the floor, Adrienne was standing. Marian introduced Sidney Birne, and, watch ing her sister closely, saw that she struggled to control some emotion before she could compel herself to look at the young artist and to speak to him naturally, which she did at last, holding out her hand with a few graceful words, wel coming him to the “wilderness.. “ It has little to recommend it—monotonous and lonely as it is—but poets and artists find a fascination in desolate prospects. I hope you may discover something in it to repay you for your visit.” . . . . T , ... “I am neither poet nor artist, but I have felt the fascination of desolate, wide-reaching pros pects, and I should like the fine hunting that I am told the hammocks farther hack afford, but I shall not be able to enjoy it. My visit is short; I leave Cedar Bay to-night.” , “To-night? Is not that a sudden resolve. Was it your first intention to leave so soon, or has—” (leaning nearer and speaking lower, with a rising flush) “has my—has what happened to me influenced you ? I beg you will look on that incident as accidental, and not likely to occur again, and that you will remain with us a few days.” “linclyou request it, I will be overjoyed to Marian understood his words to mean merely: “ Since my presence will not distress you, as it seemed strangely to do at first, I will be glad to fulfill my original design and remain longer. Such, she was sure, was also her sister s inter pretation; but others overheard the words. A ngut ui luj ittLC auvcuiuic, I suspect it W&S & ^icumvu, , 1 _‘u_ sin against etiquette, and a blunder in another J moment heforejthey were spoK , y, y and more important respect. That beautiful j and handsome, but a noted goss p, J; creature’s distress, I am sure, was solely due to j leaning on Mr. De Forest s arm. n evi INSTINCT PRINT