She stopped, and it seemed to her that all the world stopped with her to hear the first soft trill of a nightingale through the tender dusk.

It went into silence, but it left her heart throbbing strangely.

Surely--surely there was magic all around her! That bird-voice in the silence thrilled her through and through.

She stood spell-bound, waiting for the enchanted music to fill her soul.

There followed a few liquid notes, and then there came a far-off, flute-like call, gradually swelling, gradually drawing nearer, so pure, so wild, so full of ecstasy, that she almost felt as if it were more than she could bear.