broad path of stone and gravel which led to the when she observed the respect with which the light-house. Walking there she sang some pretty songssongs that were favorites with Captain King. She had heard them sung so often she could but know them well. This Captain King was the master of a warehouse on the dock. He had a fine voice for singing, and was very fond of music, and whenever he came to the light-house, which was not seldom, he did not fail to visit also the stone house, where Earl Hunter lived. He liked to talk with the gallant sailor, who never forgot that he had followed the seas; but he could talk of other things than sea-life. For a man of books was Captain King, and an author would have loved him for his reverence and discernment. There was no end to the ballads he knew and could repeat and sing. He was of course proud of his acquirements, for he had made these things his own. He possessed them -rhymes, thoughts, imaginations, all-and found abundant excuse for the display he made of his knowledge at Light-house Corner. Deft Hunter's pleasure was his full apology. He might have been a member of the family, so pleasant was the house to him. Indeed, he regarded himself as such, and gave many an evidence of this. He believed also-it was his firm conviction, much joy he had of it!-that Deft Hunter's heart would never be won by any man but him. A high-minded, pure-hearted girl he knew her to be, and in all his calculations for the future he included her. His great aim was to acquire a fortune, and the foundation was already strongly laid. When he married, he often said, he meant to have a fine house of his own-a house and garden; there should be no end to the flowers of that garden. Nobody smiled when he made these remarks. Every body knew that he succeeded in every thing he set out to do. That he had found his own way out of obscurity and poverty, and was already taking rapid steps toward a prominent place among the dock-men. He was not ashamed of any fact concerning his early life; he carried with him from its poverty a pity for the poor which money-getting never could destroy. If of those concerned by the sympathy of friendship one was prouder than the rest of his prosperity, it was Deft Hunter. The young man's life did not control, but it did influence hers mightily. She sang his songs and remembered his ballads. He could make her shudder when he would repeat "The Wandering Jew," and smile at the "Nut-browne Mayde," and her Squire of low degree. And how he would read that last verse of "Lenora," "Be patient, though thyne hert should breke, These ballads, with which he was so familiar, and which he spent many a Sunday reading to her, quickened the beat of heart, action of thought, and life of imagination. Deft loved not her home the less that it seemed to him so pleasant; and Captain (they called him Captain, but he was really no more entitled to the title than are all these generals and majors we meet with every day true coin of the pure metal) always treated her father, she was grateful for the grace, and loved him none the less. For deference and respect Earl Hunter did not always meet. He was in a measure helpless, and helplessness among the enlightened is not always reverently guarded, as idiots are among those people who are just wide awake enough to see their sacredness. The Often Deft Hunter and the Captain had walked together this smooth, hard path she and her father made; they could distinctly hear at this distance the military music of the band belonging to the regiment quartered at the fort. Captain said the stars were brighter in their shining as seen from this quiet spot: here one must watch the moon to know her beauty; here one must wait the sunset. He loved the Lighthouse Corner-that was the amount of it. Now, as Deft walked alone, she thought over the story of Polycrates as her father told it. The next time Captain King came down-and a good many days had now passed since his last visit-she would ask him what that story meant. But the tale did not set her to thinking very seriously. She trembled not for the safety of any treasure. She was not a king-she had no successes that could fill her with misgiving as to the good-will of the gods. II. The next day, a little after noon, Messmate came barking and bounding to the house, full of joy, if one might judge; and looking from her window Deft saw her father following after; and still beyond him, and beyond the light-house, the white sails of a boat whose name she would have dared to guess. But usually, when Captain King came down, he fastened his sail-boat to the stakes and came himself on his own errand; besides, as she knew very well, other parties often landed at Light-house Corner, and sometimes climbed the tower. Whoever had now come something was wanting. Deft went to meet her father. "Get your bonnet," said Earl Hunter. "The Captain is down there with his cousin. You are all going to the fort for some music." "I never heard of his cousin." Deft answered the prominent point contained in the summons without manifesting any design of acting upon the invitation. "She is a pretty girl," said her father. "Hurry! You won't have too much time; take the day while it is bright;" and he turned about and retraced his steps, leaving Deft to go into the house, get her bonnet and shawl, and follow him. He went back to see the pretty cousin. At the helm waited King, and a very pleasing and altogether surprising sight was that upon which Deft looked when the Captain arose to help her into the boat. In the stern sat the young girl whom he introduced as his cousin Sophie. She was not only a stranger to Deft, but a marvel to her eyes. She looked young, yet old; seemed timid, and yet her manners betokened self-possession; joyful, yet in moments of repose her face was grave and sad. Deft considered her a child, but she was older than Deft. When she steped into the boat, and took her place between the Captain and his cousin, Sophie leaned forward and gave Deft a bunch of flowers. "The Captain bought the basket for us," said she, "and I made this for you as we came. He told me which flowers you liked best." Deft took the lovely flowers, and she praised them, turning the bouquet round and round, doing homage to each bud and blossom. She saw the pleased face of the child as she thus expressed her pleasure, and once or twice was near to saying to herself-She is no child. The young girl's face was of an olive hue, hair and eyes black, in person slender and tall, a grace in her every motion. Her voice was rich and soft and clear-a voice to exercise an influence. It could plead well, was insinuating -in joy, or in grief, or in danger, its appeals must be irresistible. grated against the beach, Sophie's mood, which had controlled the spirits of her companions, changed in its manifestations--the soft shadow passed from her face, she was ready again for laughter and jesting. But Deft was not quite pleased at this-if she could not resist the girl's influence, and she could not resist it; to understand her was the least she might expect. When Sophie went forward from the boat, with guitar in one hand and flower-basket in the other, she said to Captain King, who looked at her while he made the boat fast, as if he expected some remark, "Your cousin is a pretty creature, Captain." It seemed hardly worth saying, but it pleased him. "She is a wonderful girl," he replied. "I wish I could tell you all about her. Be kind to her for my sake, Deft; she has seen a great deal of trouble, poor girl." "Has she seen trouble? So young! You never told me about her; maybe I could have helped her." "Perhaps it's not too late," answered the Captain. "Look at her, Deft. By George!" Sophie was returning to them when Captain King bade Deft look at her. Deft's eyes were not too slow. She saw what is not seen so often by any one as to be forgotten ever again. Having beheld Rachel we know well that repetition of that genius under other name is quite impossible, though we go up and down the world gazing at all great beauty, and witnessing the marvel When she took off her flat, broad-brimmed straw-hat, and wound a myrtle wreath around the crown, Deft Hunter looked at the fanciful young creature with amazement. Child, fairy, woman, it was difficult for her to account for the Captain's cousin, who talked and sang in one breath, played with the flowers, and grew rapturous over the delight of sailing about on such a day. She enjoyed it as those do not en-ous achievements. We walk on foot among the joy who have all things at their command; who have known many pleasures; who have had no sorrows; who bear no mere responsibilities. mourners to that grave of Rachel in the Jew cemetery, knowing that we shall lament no other with precisely our grief for her, a Hebrew of the Hebrews. And no emotion true, legitimate, is ever repeated. Captain King shared her enjoyment with a boy's generous enthusiasm. He was constantly pointing out to her whatever could attract, or had ever attracted his observation. The town, the fort, the banner of stars and stripes floating from the walls, the light-house, and the window where Deft nightly placed the lamp for the safe-given them by Captain King's word, "Look at ty of all homeward-bound vessels. By-and-by the Captain claimed his rewardhe asked Sophie to sing. The instant he made the request she took up her guitar, which lay wrapped in a shawl at her feet. Deft looked on in wonder. "I know what you like best-that first," said Sophie; and she sang a song which Captain King had often sang for Deft. "Why don't you sing?" she asked him, after the first verse. At the close of the second he joined in the chorus. "She is a child," thought Deft Hunter. "Strange he never told me of his cousin." At length, after much singing, Sophie put down her guitar, folded her hands, and became quiet. Neither the Captain nor Deft asked her for more. They could not in reason. The Captain steered the boat in the direction of the fort, and the wind brought them quickly to the land. They came in silence to the shore; those songs had made them silent; but as the boat Deft Hunter, borne through every phase of passion, every circle of knowledge, could never know, or feel again, what she understood and experienced as her eyes obeyed the direction her!" Exceeding grace, and an almost regal beauty, that seemed atmospheric rather than defined, Deft Hunter saw. The burning bush and fiery pillar were revelations—so is a lily or a rose; so is a bee or bird; so also was this child, fairy, woman, that seemed to float and not to walkthat smiled herself, to the fancy of poor Deft, like a sunbeam in betwixt black threatening walls, whose outlet was a mystery. She joined the Captain and Deft, and they all set out together for the fort. But the child was picking up shells and pebbles, and singing snatches of song, and could not, though she tried, walk in a quiet manner. Every step seemed the prepara tion of a dance. She appeared to move to the sound of the music which was unheard of her companions-spiritual music, which was spiritually discerned. They went up to see the soldiers. Their evo lutions filled her with delight, the strange music, the order, the uniform, she wanted all explained. They sat on the grass to listen and to rest. The delicious breeze, the bright day, the splendid view, the fine music, were inspiring surroundings -the pleasure he had conferred on the girls by bringing them thither was the main cause of the Captain's serene satisfaction. He told stories, recited ballads, and last of all his dire favorite, "Lenora." It was this ballad that reminded Deft Hunter, at such a time, to repeat the story her father brought home yesterday from the classic ground of High School. lowed the ring, and forthwith came to destruction; for a fisherman caught the fish, and must needs make it a present to the king, it was so exceeding beautiful. But when the time came to dress the fish for dinner behold the wonderful seal-ring of Polycrates! Well, in the end the old fellow was crucified. That was the sum of his luck. If he had thrown away his rapacious temper, and kept his paltry ring, he would have done well enough. Poor fool! But it seems to me, Deft, we are rather late in the day lamenting "Such a curious thing as I heard yesterday over him. He lied about the ring worse than from father," she began. "What was that?" the Captain asked. "About an old king-I don't know his name; father don't-whose fortune was so good always, that a friend wrote to him that he must throw away the thing he valued most." "Put it away in such a manner that he should never see it again," said the Captain, taking up the story when Deft hesitated for a second. "Because it must certainly be some tremendous bad fate that was in store for the man who was always fortunate. That man, Deft, was Polycrates." Ananias. He got his reward. Let him alone." The Captain now struck from the subject, bearing down on one nearer home; but in spite of all his effort the little party seemed not as carelessly gay as it had been before. Deft had the information she desired to get by asking the Captain what the story meant; and when he manifested his wish to drop the heathen implicated without further discussion, she understood, and let Polycrates go. While they sat in the shade of the tree the wind began to shake it, and Captain King perceived a dark cloud gathering in the West. "We'll go home in fine style," said he, rising. "And we had better lose no time." He lost no time in leading the way. So they all went quickly to the beach, the Captain furled the sails, and they embarked in the rocking-boat. They were like children of the sea, and felt no fear. Sophie wrapped her guitar in the folds of her dress, for the Captain insisted on her wearing her shawl, and himself pinned it around her. She sat upright, facing the gale, in tune for the increasing tumult of the storm. She felt such confidence in the Captain's skill, and Deft Hunter was so unmoved, she would have betrayed no fear much though she had felt. Deft Hunter was not surprised when Captain King took the story thus out of her mouth. She felt embarrassed the moment she began to speak in the hearing of Sophie, for Sophie's eyes bent on her as no other eyes she had ever met could possibly have done. She felt relieved that he knew the story already; and was always prepared for the evidences of his learning. Perhaps he could explain this tale. She now in turn looked at Sophie while the Captain spoke. The girl was leaning against the trunk of the tree in whose shade they sat, seriously listening; no smile about her mouth-no laughter in her eyes. "Was his name Polycrates?" asked Deft. "Yes. When he received the letter you The Captain watched her as they went. When speak of from his friend he set to work, like a he spoke, which was not often, it was to her, with sensible fellow, to find out what it was that he some word of assurance; but in spite of the valued most of all his great possessions. At courage on board, and his own fearlessness, he last he decided. What do you think it was, heartily wished the girls ashore. When he rowed Sophie ?" into the little cove just beyond the light-house, he said to Deft, “I am going to leave Sophie with you, if you will keep her. I can manage the boat better alone. You will keep her tonight, won't you?" "What was it?" she asked, so very carelessly as to draw the attention of both listeners, and both saw her brush away a tear. "And you, too, Captain," Deft answered, helping Sophie ashore. "Do not go. We shall have a flood." She "Guess," said the Captain, with a loud voice. Sophie looked at Deft, the expression of Deft's face made her smile, but she was not otherwise enlightened. "Why, think for yourself," said the Captain, spoke very earnestly, and her words were inagain. stantly made good, for large drops of rain fell in their faces. "Maybe it was his crown-he was a king." "No, a ring." "A ring!" repeated the child, wondering and serious. "Tell the rest, Captain." "Polycrates stood as stiff for ceremony as some others. He ordered out a barge manned by fifty oarsmen, and went in state to throw the ring into the sea. Having performed that feat, he thought he was safe till the judgment-day; so he went home again lamenting. But here comes the wonder: there was an odd fish in the water that was caught by the emerald-it swal The Captain laughed at the entreaty, in which Sophie joined, and with the strong motion of his arm the boat shot out of the cove as the rain began to fall. The girls retreated into the lighthouse; climbing the stairs, they watched him from the balcony. When the little boat was hid from their sight by jutting rocks their eyes turned toward the sea-the great deep that was "boiling like a pot." Already the sudden storm gave signs of lessening fierceness; the clouds were breaking, the wind was not so violent, not mean it. I thought you knew. Captain King is very kind to me, but he is not my cousin. I have had a great deal of trouble." "You have!" exclaimed Hunter, seizing upon what seemed to him the main point of her words. "Why, you look as if you had grown in a bower like a pretty flower. There's a rhyme if you take it in time." Sophie smiled at this, but Deft rose up quick and the rain was passing beyond them: they saw it pouring from the black masses of cloud that hung above the town. Deft found herself in a curious position while they watched the lightening of those masses. Sophie was troubled and fearful on the Captain's account; and Deft herself anxious, felt constrained to hide her anxiety, and assure her companion of the impossibility that any danger could overpower him. She had seen him out in worse storms, and if his strongly and walked to the window. There for many boat were capsized, or even broken, he was still minutes she stood, looking out upon the cloudas safe on the water as on the land, being so less night. Listening to the noise of breaking good a swimmer. waves? No. Hearkening to the quieter voices within. But she was not smiling as her father smiled to hear what they were hearing. Captain King had deceived her. Who and what was this girl? Presently the conversation by the fireside drew her back to her place. The old man had questioned their guest with an interest and sympathy so manifest that she was telling him her story. If Deft Hunter would know who and what the girl was, let her listen. She was telling how her father died, when she was a child, greatly in debt to the manager of a theatre for whom they played. She had been brought up a dancer, and that was her business in life, to dance. But not in a theatre now. She had a school for children. She did not, however, express any emotion of gratitude for escape from the boards of the stage. Assured by Deft's confidence, Sophie made no more mention of her fear, and they went merrily up to the stone house. Earl Hunter had slept through the storm; but the sudden return of sunshine and quiet roused him and brought him to the door, and when he saw the girls he stood to meet them, wide awake. Even the friendly feeling the day had aroused failed to inspire Deft Hunter with perfect confidence in herself as the entertainer of this girl. But she was soon relieved by the progress made by Sophie and her father. Nothing seemed to come amiss to Sophie. She was at home in the boat, or at the fort, or in this stone house of Earl Hunter. And if she had seen "trouble," it must have been of a strange character, for its effect seemed to have been the establishment of her confidence in all with whom she came in contact. She seemed to have no reserves, no cares to-night, and her face was too bright to warrant the imputation of very extreme anxiety, when now and then she went to the door or window and looked out, and was followed by Hunter's immediate "Oh, don't bother about him! The Captain's ashore, and about his business by this time." When the old man looked curiously at Sophie's guitar, mistaking it for a violin, she took it up and played and sang for him, without his asking her. He would have gone a long while without asking, and she divined his wish. The graceful act and the sweet voice were sufficient to invest her with an instant glory. Earl was like one enchanted. He believed in mermaids; in every thing incredible that was at the same time lovely. If not, what meant that little shelf of sea-shells, dainty as rose leaves, into which his eyes so often peered? He was the owner of those floating palaces before his Deft was born. In the evening they sat around the fire and talked like life-long friends. Earl Hunter had many a tale to tell, and Sophie's heart was thrown wide open by his praises. Her time came when the old man began to manifest some curiosity as to her fortunes and her relationship with Captain King, for he as well as Deft had been ignorant even of her existence until to-day. When asked about her cousin Sophie hesitated a moment. She looked at Deft; but Deft looked grave, she was so curious to hear the answer to this question. Captain King had been very kind to her. When she first saw him she was in great distress. She trusted in the kindness of his face, and asked him to help her. And he had helped her; so greatly, that now she owed every thing to him. It seemed as if she could not say enough in his praise, and Earl Hunter attested that he was worthy of it all. Deft Hunter, looking at the young girl while she talked of him, saw how much her heart had to do with the words spoken. She marked the changes in Sophie's voice, she saw the tears that started to Sophie's eyes when she said, "He has done every thing for me. Saved me. I can only thank him, and wonder if there are other men like him in the world. Before I saw him every body seemed so cruel. Yes, all But now the whole world was against me. every body seems to be my friend, all because of him. When you come to my room, Deft, you'll see what a happy life I lead. But you never can know, I hope, what a miserable time I had before. I owe every thing to him. But some day I shall pay him for all-except-how can I pay him! But I will wish every thing for him, and a great many times my wishes have come true. But then I don't know what I could throw away, Deft, if you told me to give up what I held most precious, as that king was told." Earl Hunter believed all the girl had said. Many times while she was speaking he wiped his eyes, looked solemnly into the fire, and let the pauses in her story, which might have been properly filled by some word of his, pass without comment. Used as he was to privation, hardship, pain, the recital of what this young girl had endured touched his heart. Deft listened in | Captain gave her father, then she arose. Sophie, silence. Even to those last words which were she said, must sleep and rest. addressed to her she made no answer. Whether Sophie was troubled by this silence, or because the subject interested her so much, she did not drop it when they were left alone after old Hunter went to bed. She had answered much-now was her time to question. And she chose to hear the Captain spoken of by Deft. So she asked if they had known each other long, and knew very well that Deft would answer, "Always." Then she would fain learn something of his boyhood; and moved by an impulse stirred partly by pride in him and his successes, and partly by the felt right to talk of him, which she could not recognize so entirely in another, perhaps also that she saw another legitimate result of this speaking, on which she unconsciously relied, Deft told Sophie how laborious his life had been -how he had educated himself in spite of every obstacle, for Captain King's reading had made him, to Deft's thinking, a very learned man. She told how his heart's desire, when a lad, would have led him to seek his fortune on the sea; how he had staid on shore because he was his mother's only one, and she had wept so sorely when he thought of going away. She told of the struggle that decision cost him; how he had lived on docks and wharves since that time, and did seek fortune of the sea, though it must be as a landsman; and how he used to come, while his mother and hers were alive, and spend the long Sunday with them-they were all like one family. They had passed through sorrow and had wept together. With every recollection of her childhood had this Captain King to do. She told of his decision, after his mother died, to remain on shore, and continue in the course which had her blessing; how he had prospered ever since. How he had the sailor's warm heart and courage, though he never went to sea. He knew all about the foreign lands for which the vessels sailed. Many a tale she had to tell of him. She even told this listener how once, when her poor father was surrounded by drunken revelers who made him their sport, taking advantage of his partial helplessness, Captain King had dashed in among them and scattered the drivelers like chaff, taking such immediate and fiery vengeance as made a broad path, clear and safe, for the old man to walk in ever after. The listener shared in the speaker's every mood as she went through these reminiscences. "Yes, yes," came forth like an indorsement at every recital or assertion. Sophie expected all this. She was surprised by nothing, and manifestly she would not soon weary of this talk. But Deft Hunter wearied, or else the inward passion which incited all this outbreak of speech, so strange and so unlooked-for, had, in its outflow, exhausted her. When she had told about that defense of her father, she stooped and stroked the head of Messmate, the faithful watch-dog the So she lighted her guest to bed, left her in the chamber that stood ready for whatever guest desired the hospitality of the stone house. But she went not to bed herself till long after midnight. Her candle burned out; the fire turned to ashes. She sat and thought. The impulse that had urged her to this speech being exhausted, her heart was shamed by its own nakedness. She had kept back nothing. But that which Sophie thought of, smiling, as she lay wakeful on her bed, was not of any self-betrayal for which Deft Hunter had reason to blush. She had merely heard frank speech like her own. But it was not in the nature of Deft to revolve around herself-this was not one of the laws of her being. And from herself her thoughts turned to these others whom the past day's events also concerned. Not a word that Captain King had spoken, not a look or act of his, escaped in this recapitulation. She seemed to listen with enlightened understanding now to every word of Sophie's speaking—and if there was some profanity in Deft's touch when she dealt with that gratitude the girl had been so free to confess, marvel not. No wonder the Captain loved her, she mused in that doleful, lonesome night. She was so beautiful-she sang so wonderfully. She had sung sometimes for the Captain when he asked her; she blushed to think of it-she wept some bitter tears to think of it. But, marvel not. Now she understood why his visits had been so few this summer, for she suddenly discovered that in comparison with other times and seasons those visits had been few. Envy and jealousy, whose tokens she had never known before, tormented her. She was afraid of herself, of the wishes, the thoughts, which like demons tormented this estranged self. They filled the dark room with darker shadows. She could not recognize what was unknown to her until now, the prospect which unfolds before the evil eye of jealousy. Had the fairest of all the forms of beauty she had ever looked upon appeared before her only to destroy her peace—the glad peace of Deft Hunter, who had loved beauty, and served it as she was able, until now? Until now! But in this night there came an hour of marvel—a breaking of light long before the moment when the first ray of sunlight should flash across the sca. From the midst of her dark thinking, Deft Hunter stood up in the midnight with a thought that must have shone as far as heaven. She thought of him who was required to throw his dearest treasure, though it must be with much lamentation, into oblivion. Trembling in every nerve she stood, as before the dark presence of Fate, who called her to surrender, oh what! For she remembered Ananias, and dared not lie unto her soul. Was she not stronger than this Sophie? Had she ever suffered much? The girl had passed through fortunes she could not recall without a |