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 nobody." "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.