"He does, indeed, ma'am."

"I have always found him faithful to his promises," she said.

"And I," remarked another lady sitting near; "strength has always been given me according to my day, in the past, and I am glad to leave the future with him."

"Humph! it's plain to be seen that you two don't know what trouble is,"

put in Mrs. Moses, glancing fretfully at her crippled spouse; whereat the poor man burst into tears.

Vi's tender heart ached for him, and the countenances of all within hearing of the remark expressed sincere pity and sympathy.

A child began drumming on the piano, and Mr. Moses sent a helpless, half despairing glance in that direction that spoke of tortured nerves.

Vi saw it, and, as he turned to her with, "Don't you play and sing, my dear? You look like it, and I should be much gratified to hear you," she rose and went at once to the instrument, thinking of nothing but trying to bring help and comfort to the poor sufferer.

"Will you let me play a little?" she said to the child, with look and tone of winning sweetness, and the piano-stool was promptly vacated.

Seating herself, she touched a few chords, and instantly a hush fell upon the room.

She played a short prelude; then, in a voice full, rich and sweet, sang--

"'O Jesus! Friend unfailing, How dear art thou to me!

And cares or fears a.s.sailing, I find my rest in thee!

Why should my feet grow weary Of this my pilgrim way; Rough though the path and dreary It ends in perfect day.

"'Naught, naught I count as treasure, Compared, O Christ, with thee; Thy sorrow without measure Earned peace and joy for me.

I love to own, Lord Jesus, Thy claims o'er me and mine, Bought with thy blood most precious, Whose can I be but thine!

"'For every tribulation, For every sore distress.

In Christ I've full salvation, Sure help and quiet rest.

No fear of foes prevailing, I triumph, Lord, in thee.

O Jesus, Friend unfailing!

How dear art thou to me!'"*

* I know not who is the author of these beautiful lines.

Edward had made his way to her side as soon as he perceived her purpose.

"You have left out half," he whispered, leaning over her, "and the words are all so sweet."

"Yes, I know, but I feared it was too long."

There were murmurs of admiration as he led her back to her seat. "How well she plays! such an exquisite touch!" "What a sweet voice! highly cultivated, and every word distinct." "Yes, and what a beauty she is!"

Some of these remarks reached Violet's ears and deepened the color on her cheek, but she forgot them all in the delight of having given pleasure to the invalid. He thanked her with tears in his eyes.

"The words are very sweet and comforting," he said. "Are they your own?"

"Oh no, sir!" she answered. "I do not know whose they are, but I have found comfort in them, and hoped that you might also."

Edward and Mary were conversing in low, earnest tones.

"I am delighted!" Mary said.

"With what?"

"Words, music, voice, everything."

"The music is her own, composed expressly for the words, which she found in a religious newspaper."

"Indeed! she is a genius then! the tune is lovely."

"Yes, she is thought to have a decided genius for both music and painting; I must show you some of her pictures when you pay us that promised visit."

Mr. Moses presently found himself in too much pain to remain where he was, and summoning his servant, retired to his own room.

His wife, paying no regard to a wistful, longing look he gave her as he moved painfully away, remained where she was and entertained the other ladies with an account of the family pedigree.

"We are lineal descendants of Moses, the Hebrew Lawgiver," she announced. "But don't suppose we are Jews, for we are not at all."

"Belong to the lost ten tribes, I suppose," remarked Charles Perrine dryly.

The morning's sun shone brightly in a clear sky, and on leaving the breakfast table our little party went down to the beach and sat in the sand, watching the incoming tide, before which they were now and then obliged to retreat, sometimes in scrambling haste that gave occasion for much mirth and laughter.

Mrs. Moses came down presently and joined them, an uninvited and not over-welcome companion, but of course the beach was as free to her as to them.

"How is your husband this morning?" inquired Mrs. Perkins.

"Oh about as usual."

"I do believe it would do him good to sit here awhile with us, sunning himself."

"Too damp."

"No; the dampness here is from the salt water, and will harm n.o.body."

"Where is he?" asked Fred, getting on his feet.

"On the porch yonder," the wife answered, in a tone of indifference.

"Come, boys, let's go and bring him!" said Fred, and at the word the other two rose with alacrity, and all three hurried to the house.

They found the poor old gentleman sitting alone, save for the presence of the uncouth servant standing in silence at the back of his chair, and watching with wistful, longing eyes the merry groups moving hither and thither, to and fro, between the houses and the ocean, some going down to bathe, others coming dripping from the water, some sporting among the waves, and others still, like our own party, sunning themselves on the beach.

"We have come to ask you to join us, sir," Fred said in respectful but hearty tones. "Won't you let us help you down to the beach? the ladies are anxious to have you there."

The poor man's face lighted up with pleased surprise, then clouded slightly. "I should like to go indeed," he said, "if I could do so without troubling others; but that is impossible."

"We should not feel it any trouble, sir." the lads returned, "but a pleasure rather, if you will let us help you there."