"THE threads of our lives are so intervoven with the threads of other lives that we are not able to disentangle them, or to divine what other threads they may cross. In the woof and warp of this curious fabric we call life, I am convinced that among the many strands which cross and recross our existence, there is one and only one with which our lives can make a perfect union."

"Then, Mr. Carlyle, you believe that not only my life, but that of the shivering beggar on the street is tending to some other life, not unlike itself, with which it can only vibrate in harmony, and that found, there is perfect happiness; at least, the highest happiness of which we mortals | are capable ?''

No, Miss Bronson, I intended no such sweeping assertion. There are natures so commonplace, people whose nerves are not acute, and the currents of whose lives are never stirred by strange magnetisms that they are incapable of tension. And even with those of a sensitive organism there is more frequently failure than success; there are so many objects to divert our destiny and our beings are so inextricably involved with others. We are more liable to bind our souls to those not quite our mates, than that the current of our existence should thereafter mingle in perfect unity."

Ida Bronson looked thoughtfully into the fire, while Percy Carlyle covertly studied the fair girl beside him. The busy hum of conversation among the large party of handsomely dressed men and women who made up the social gathering to "watch out the old year," went on. She was a Southern girl, whose father found wider scope for his great talents in New York, and after the death of his passionately loved wife had removed to the great city. His fortune was not yet made, although he was not lacking a comfortable income. Ida, his only child, was idolized, but not spoiled, and a rich type of Southern beauty. Imperially proud was she, and of noble bearing; one whose character was of the queenly mould and whose loveliness made men passionately yearn to have her forever in their keeping. In her presence men felt a strange exaltation and a desire to appear and bear themselves like princes. There was a strange

She

ness in her beauty and her bearing unlike that of others, and it was a remarkable phase of her character that she sometimes seemed to be withdrawn from the outside world and became oblivious to speech or sight. Her eyes assumed a far-away look and no words would issue from her lips. When this semi-trance had first developed itself, it gave her friends much alarm and the highest medical authority was consulted, but gave no satisfactory solution. As it had no apparent evil results upon her health or mind it was finally dismissed as "only one of Ida's strange ways." She was a being of mysterious impulses, full of fine fire and subtlety, and a lover of all weird places and fancies. Percy Carlyle was the most favored of her many suitors, and it was understood that he was more likely to bear away the prize, although there were many young men who still desperately disputed the honor. In every way he was considered a proper match" for this rare creature. had been especially gracious to him this evening, and he felt more than confident that he would eventually claim her for his own. In some way the conversation had turned upon the discussion of "affinity" in the pure sense of the word, and as a result of the conversation Ida had assumed the semi-trance state with which he was so well acquainted. It had never given him uneasiness before, for he, with others, only marked it as a strange and harmless peculiarity of a beautiful girl; but to-night it seemed that it boded evil for his suit. It now wanted but a few minutes of twelve, and the gay company sat silently watching the hands of an elegant clock on the mantel slowly ticking away the last few moments of the year. The hush was oppressive, and Percy's heart sank within him as he heard the silvery chime begin to count away the last few seconds. It seemed to mark the knell of his hopes, and that, notwithstanding the favor which had but an hour before thrilled him, this hateful chime declared that hereafter their lives would grow apart. Seven-eight ; the door opened and a servant noiselessly entered and presented on a silver salver a purple sachet of velvet to Ida Bronson, embroidered on which, in gold thread, were some mysterious characters.

Eleven-twelve! She took it from the waiter and with a startled glance rose and retired to the dressing-room. This simple action for a moment naturally aroused the curiosity of the company, while to Percy it seemed filled with ominous meaning. When she reached the room she closed the door behind her, eagerly opened the sachet, and took from thence a beautiful necklace formed of gold and opals. It was strangely exquisite and strangely barbaric. The centre-piece was of dark stone cut to represent an Egyptian seeress, whose eyes were small diamonds. Two satyrs' heads were linked to the centre-piece holding in their teeth two delicate chains of gold, to which was suspended a monogram, made of writhing serpents. She gazed for a moment at the beautiful ornament, and then placed it about her neck, the serpents falling down upon her breast. The rich lace about her regal throat concealed the valuable charm from vulgar eyes. The mysterious portion of her inner self took it as nothing less than a portent, while the following note enclosed in the sachet confirmed the idea she was eager to seize. There was no date or signature to it:

"With the new year comes new life; and with it accept the devotion of one whom you know not, nor have you seen, nor will you see until the fullness of time. Should you yield your life to another's keeping, destroy this amulet, since its mission will cease He that gave it, charges you to keep it and his heart."

Robert Lee, professor of languages, resigned his chair in St. Clement's College to sail with an expedition to Arabia, and set sail the first week of the new year. His sudden resolve was a matter of regret to the authorities, for he was held in high estimation, both for his learning and his courtly manners, He was a Virginian whom the war had ruined, and after the strife ended sought and obtained his present position. He had travelled throughout Europe and the Old World when much younger, and therefore it was not much a matter of surprise when he announced his determination to revisit the land of the Sheik and Bedouin. Few men could compare with him in point of personal or mental beauty. A member of the most aristocratic family in the Old Dominion, his culture and his manners were fascinating, after the worldrenowned style of his race.

Extracts from his journal tell his story better than another's pen, and from it such excerpts are

taken as have to do with the facts narrated in this strange episode. The first one bearing on the subject reads thus:

"I sailed for Alexandria, in Egypt, January 4, with the intention of making my fortune, well satisfied that my present professorship would never give the independence which, for a reason known only to myself, is necessary to my future life. It was not many days ago that I considered myself happy and contented in what I hold to be the noblest profession in the world, save one, and thought to live out my life striving for the good of my fellows. But this is all undone for me, and almost in the twinkling of an eye. I could no more content myself with such a life under existing circumstances, than I can create perpetual motion. Fate, or by whatever other name men call destiny, has made it an impossibility; I must be wealthy— it is necessity-and if I fall into the grave with wealth unattained, then welcome the grave. At present, there are for me no doubts. I am impelled to believe and say to myself 'I will succeed.' With an indomitable spirit, therefore, I go to seek fate, resolved to gain either wealth or death. My plan is to push my way into the interior country with a small band of trusty followers, and purchase such merchandise as is easily transportable and which is to be had for almost nothing, but of high value at points of shipping. I mean to defend myself from the large bands of robbers who infest the land by celerity rather than by numbers." •February 15. To-morrow I start for the interior, having secured as my leader Ben Adar, a man of great prowess and skill, one who combines the craft and knowledge of the desert with the courage, determination, and faithfulness of the English, he being the son of an English officer and a highcaste Arab woman, born, of course, 'out of wedlock.' I am provided with fleet and hardy Arab horses and dromedaries, as well as a goodly store of attractive merchandise, money, and a substantial outfit of necessaries."

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"March 21. I have succeeded thus far beyond my hopes as to the time required to reach a point where such merchandise as I require is to be had for petty prices, but have not been able to carry the amount I expected. If I am so fortunate as to reach Suez in safety, on my next trip I will increase the size of my caravan. My goods consist of some few precious stones (on my next expedition I shall go beyond this point, since I learned, after securing

the major portion of my load, that fifteen miles to the northeast there is a tribe whose jewels are much finer), a number of pure-blooded Oman colts, the rarest and most valued stock of the Arab horses, some fine silks and shawls, and a few pearls, emeralds, onyx and opals-these last mostly small and imperfect. We start early to-morrow on our return trip."

"April 19. All gone, and within but a few days journey of a comparatively safe country. Yesterday, as we were about to skirt a grove, as is my custom, I sent forward some Arabs to see if our way was clear. They returned and reported nothing to indicate danger, and that they had gone beyond the trees to the open plain. Alas! our interrupted good fortune thus far betrayed us, for we had not proceeded far into the wood before we were set upon and the largest and most valuable part of our treasure carried off. The Bedouins overpowered us, and after the manner of their reckless race, dashed upon us and in a moment were away again having spurned the meaner part of the goods. We considered ourselves fortunate in recovering some of our animals, the onset of the robbers frightening them out of the reach of the pillagers, who are ever too much in a hurry to pick a caravan clean. Strange to say, this almost total wreck of my prospects affected me but momentarily, for after we gathered up the fragments and leavings, and I found that there still remained to me something, I was not cast down. I have to-day a plan matured to start another expedition. All I care for is the loss of time. I feel, nay, I know success will attend me, and in Ben Adar I have a host at my back. I find him much above his class, and can see that notwithstanding his lofty Son-of-the-Desert air, he is strangely attracted to me. I have promised when my object is attained that he shall go with me to America—the highest ambition of his life, and I presume a legacy bequeathed him in his English blood. I have ordered camp here, and will go and look for game in this fateful copse of woods.

"Near Midnight. I little imagined a few hours ago, the destruction of my caravan would place in my hands what is worth a hundred such petty affairs. I am rich beyond my wildest dreams! all there remains for me to do is to transport my treasure-trove a few leagues farther, where I shall enter the land of Hadjazmut, through which travel is tolerably safe, and safer as we draw nigh Suez.

I can hardly write, both from excitement and a strong desire to go back and make sure of my new-found wealth-much the same impulse, I imagine, as the murderer feels when he is drawn to revisit the scene of his crime. It attracts me like a powerful magnet. Let me write down what has occurred, and by that time perhaps I shall be calm enough to decide what is best to do: When I left camp I went directly north, and had not proceeded more than a mile when I came upon the ruins of what had once been a dwelling, evidently not that of a native, for it had been formed of stones and wood, although there was not left one stone upon another to tell its history. On examination, I discovered small shreds of cloth, matting, and paperthis last article surprising me greatly—and the conclusion was well-nigh irresistible that some white person (not unlikely a countryman of mine, as they are ever noted for their eccentricity) had inhabited it. The destruction had evidently been recent, and in hope of discovering some clue I overturned quite a number of stones. Upon one of these I found characters cut with some rude instrument. It seemed to occupy a rather central position in what had once been the structure, but I managed to lift it and was still more amazed to find a large iron plate underneath. My whole being was now wrought into phrenzy, and I succeeded in getting it out of place. Hastily putting my hand in the excavation it concealed, I discovered quite a number of parcels wrapped in the coarse cloth used by the Arab merchants for packing their goods. These unwrapped, I found that they were used to protect boxes of valuable diamonds, pearls, and ingots of gold and silver. I put them back hastily, replaced the coverings and endeavored to cover up the spot as naturally as possible. After all this, I find myself here in camp with emotions beyond the power of pencil to transfer to my journal. What must I do?"

"Early dawn. I cannot sleep, nor have I closed my eyes. Have just finished a long conversation with Ben Adar, whom I woke up, after arriving at the conclusion that I could do nothing without a companion. Everything seems clear to me now that I have secured an ally, who is both more powerful and more crafty than I. It has been agreed between us that I am to allow him to manage the transportation and to give him one-third of the treasure. For a moment this cession gave me a pang. I rebelled inwardly at his assumption of

the 'lion's share,' as I for the moment called his claim. But when I reflected upon the improbability of securing the treasure by my own unaided exertions, and that it represented far more than the sum I required, I choked down my unreason, and felt the better for it."

No more entries are made in the journal until some days later, the hiatus doubtless being occasioned by the excitement and labor incident to the care of this discovery.

"I have lost my reckoning of days, and cannot just tell at this moment whether two or three days have intervened since my last entry, so I content myself with a record of what has been accomplished. We shall take up our march at dawn tomorrow, having been reinforced by guards and dromedaries. The men have been and are out on a grand hunting excursion of two or three days, prizes being offered by Ben Adar for the most successful hunter. The ostensible object of this is to procure sustenance for our journey; but in reality it was ordered so as to allow us to work undisturbed at an arrant piece of folly devised by Ben Adar. What possible use he can have for the excavation we have been digging I cannot conceive. I have remonstrated with him, but only get some irrelevant reply in the shape of a Turkish proverb. He has intimated that it is to be used as a blind, but how, when, or where I cannot divine. Yesterday he despatched two men for a quantity of rough packing-cloths and rope, and we are momentarily expecting their return. The treasure remains just as we left it, for at the first opportunity I disclosed its position to Ben Adar. I have repeatedly urged the necessity of packing, but he has deferred it until the last moment, that we might finish this tiresome hole in the ground, which he insists upon digging. He has warned me to take rest and sleep to-day, since we shall have to labor all night. He is now calmly sleeping, and I can see him just a few rods beyond, quietly reposing at the foot of a palm tree. I am glad there is no more digging to be done, else I should be inclined to rebel. But I must put aside my pencil and try to sleep."

strong boxes at the bank. Thanks to Ben Adar's sagacity, we have not lost the worth of a centime of our load, and have made a remarkably swift passage. I have the time now that this great burden is off my mind, to give the details of Ben Adar's most successful ruse, to which I am indebted for the preservation of my fortune. The major part of the night previous to our departure from the ruined house was spent in securely packing the jewels and ingots in great bags of cloth, the valuables being carefully hidden in the loamy sand we had excavated with so much exertion. Long before morning came, Ben Adar aroused the camp, and after a hasty breakfast, called his followers together. They were all in the finest possible condition, having fared sumptuously and been successful in the chase. After obtaining silence he addressed them in their own language. The very first sentence he uttered astonished me, and I rushed forward to stop his revelation, when he declared that I had found an enormous treasure, but something in the chief's look stopped me before I succeeded in reaching him and warned me to allow him his own way. He then went on to say that we had taken it from the soil and it was ready to be placed on the dromedaries' backs. A few words of caution, incitement to bravery should we be attacked, and the promise of a handsome reward for its safe delivery in Alexandria, gave great pleasure to the men, and voluble promises of care and diligence. He also informed them that our movements would be by forced marches and mostly in the night; that the faster we proceeded the greater the reward. Ben Adar was a man notable among them; his word and promises were held in high esteem. His address had been terse, and admirably to the point. He closed by ordering them to follow through the gray dawn to the treasure. Very eagerly they assented, and when they confronted the great bags ready for the journey, their excitement knew no bounds. The first two animals were then led up, Ben Adar giving command that no one should superintend the loading but himself. I felt myself blanching pale when the first two bags broke open, and scattered

"All safe at last. We entered Alexandria this morning, and Ben Adar having unloaded our travel-worn beasts, we have exhumed the treasure a second time from the dirt and deposited it in

and began to grow wild at the fear that Ben Adar had stolen the precious part of the loads. But a glance at his dignified, honest face, and the whispered words, The others will not break open; these were meant to,' assured me, and I saw through

the trick. The Arabs looked disgusted, as they saw the common earth roll out, but the re-announcement of the reward should they carry the bundles safely, sworn to in the name of Mahomet and the Koran, reassured them. He bade some gather up the earth carefully and repack it, while others were ordered to place the unbroken bundles upon the backs of the animals. As we journeyed along I had many an 'inward smile' over the Arabs, who covertly made much sport of the deluded American who was transporting at much expense a mass of desert sand, with the idea it was valuable. Ben Adar's well-known probity, however, assured them of a reward, and it mattered not how this trash' turned out. The crafty chief's stratagem served two purposes: first, none of the band thought it worth while to meddle with the sacks since they contained nothing of value; second, it offered no inducements to the prowling bands of Bedouins, for had our guard suspected the value of the contents, it is more than probable they would have communicated the fact, and we would have been much more liable to attack."

There is little more of interest to quote from the diary; suffice it to say that the caravan reached its destination, and Ben Adar and his master set sail for America with their treasure.

Percy Carlyle made great effort to cast aside the foreboding of New Year's Eve, and while it was apparent that Miss Bronson enjoyed his society more than that of other admirers, he could not rid himself of the idea that somehow her life had passed out of his orbit, ever since that eventful New Year's Eve. He could not discover one action or word to prove his fear, and would have scouted it as unreasonable, had it been possible; but day after day the intangible and indescribable something seemed like a mist to grow denser and blacker. It wrought upon his nerves, and made his life almost unendurable. He was impelled to put it all to the test, and at the same time this something held him back. He feared, and his hopes were never buoyant. He postponed the question as long as possible, and by every art and device strove to dispel the cloud, until at last determined no longer to bear the suspense. Very gently she put aside the proffered love, but in the depths of her glorious eyes he saw the lambent flame of sorrow burn-sorrow that her lips were to give him pain. He urged their long friendship,

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their many points of taste and culture in common, and his burning love, in words of impassioned eloquence. When pressed for the reason of her refusal, among other things she urged was the fact that he was one to whom much had been given, and who was content to hide his talents in the earth. He drew from the conversation that followed that she had never met one whose lines were seemingly so in unison with the lines of her own life, and quoted his words, "there is one and only one life with which ours can make a perfect union, and we are more liable to bind our souls to those not quite our mates, than that the current of our existence should thereafter mingle in perfect unity." "I can never," she said, "risk my happiness so long as a doubt remains that somewhere in all this world there is not a spirit more perfectly mated with mine. Ever since that New Year's Eve the incompatibility of our temperaments has grown upon me, even against my will. I know you will not accuse me of an unmaidenly thought, when I say up to that time there was no one for whom I had a higher regard; but while we were then speaking came the thought, that the current of our lives would not thereafter run together; that your path and mine must diverge. To-night I feel that we have drifted apart, and as the years go by we shall be wide asunder as the poles."

Months later he again broached the subject, in the hope that this thought might have passed away, but he found her more than ever convinced of its truth. Their friendship was strongly put to the test, and when her father spoke in the highest praise of her suitor, she never wavered in her faith. Percy Carlyle felt that he would never be able to bridge the gulf between them, but could not resolve to leave America and in new scenes heal a

wounded heart. Not long after, Percy asked and obtained permission to introduce a gentleman, a former resident of the city, who had just returned from an extended tour on the Continent. When Ida entered the parlor she was struck by the very handsome bearing and manner of Percy's friend, and before long found herself entranced with his manners and mind. He seemed to be her ideal of a noble man, one whose heart and whose every-day life was that of a Bayard or Sir Walter Raleigh. This visit was but the precursor of many others, and the days rolled on weaving about them the ties of a free and noble interchange of mind