At this every nerve in her body started quivering like harp strings pulled by testing fingers. The unseen speaker knew her name!--and uttered it with a soft delicacy that made it sound more than musical. She leaned forward, extending a hand as though to touch the invisible. "How do you know me?" she asked. "As we all know you,"--came the answer--"Even as YOU have known the inside of a sun-ray!" She listened, amazed--utterly mystified. Whoever or whatever it was that spoke knew not only her name, but the trend of her earliest studies and theories. The "inside of a sun-ray"! This was what she had only the other day explained to Father Aloysius as being her first experience of real happiness! She tried to set her thoughts in order--to realise her position. Here she was, a fragile human thing, in a flying ship of her own design, held fast by atmospheric force above an unknown city situate somewhere in the Great Desert,--and some one in that city was conversing with her by a method of "wireless" as yet undiscovered by admitted science,--yet communication was perfect and words distinct. Following up the suggestion presented to her she said-- "You are speaking to me in English. Are you all English folk in your city?" A faint quiver as of laughter vibrated through the "Sound Ray." "No, indeed! We have no nationality." "No nationality?" "None. We are one people. But we speak every language that ever has been spoken in the past, or is spoken in the present. I speak English to you because it is your manner of talk, though not your manner of life." "How do you know it is not my manner of life?" "Because you are not happy in it. Your manner of life is ours. It has nothing to do with nations or peoples. You are Morgana." "And you?" she cried with sudden eagerness--"Oh, who are you that speak to me?--man, woman, or angel? What are the dwellers in your city, if it is in truth a city, and not a dream!" "Look again and see!" answered the Voice--"Convince yourself!--do not be deceived! You are not dreaming--Look and make yourself sure!" Impelled to movement, she went to the window which she had left to take up the steering-gear,--and from there saw again the wonderful scene spread out below, the towers, spires, cupolas and bridges, all lit with that mysterious golden luminance like smouldering sunset fire. "It is beautiful!" she said--"It seems true--it seems real--" "It IS true-it IS real!"--the Voice replied--"It has been seen by many travellers,--but because they can never approach it they call it a desert 'mirage.' It is more real and more lasting than any other city in the world." "Can I never enter it?" she asked, appealingly--"Will you never let me in?" There was a silence, which seemed to her very long. Still standing at the window of her cabin she looked down on the shining city, a broad stretch of splendid gold luminance under the canopy of the dark sky with its millions of stars. Then the Voice answered her--