wler, should come along and find him,
peeping in through Bunker's open door? What if the ray of light which
struck out through the door-frame should reveal him to the singer
within? And yet he was curious to see her. Since his first brusque
refusal to go in and meet her, Bunker had not mentioned his daughter
again--perhaps he remembered what was said. For Denver had stated that
he had plenty of music himself, if he could ever get his phonograph from
Globe. Yet he had had the instrument for nearly a week and never
unpacked the records. They were all good records, no cheap stuff or
rag-time; but somehow, with her singing, it didn't seem right to start
up a machine against her. And especially when he had refused to come
down and meet her--a fine lady, practicing for grand opera.

He sat down in the black shadow of the mighty sycamore and strained his
ears to hear; but a chorus of tree-frogs, silenced for the moment by his
coming, drowned the music with their eerie refrain. He hurled a rock
into the depths of the pool and the frog chorus ceased abruptly, but the
music from the house had been clearer from his cave-mouth than it was
from the bed of the creek. For half an hour he sat, gazing out into the
ghostly moonlight for some sign of the snooping Diffenderfer; and then
by degrees he edged up the trail until he stood in the shadow of the
store. The music was impressive--it was Marguerite's part, in "Faust,"
sung consecutively, aria by aria--and as Denver lay listening it
suddenly came over him that life was tragic and inexorable. He felt a
great longing, a great unrest, a sense of disaster and despair; and then
abruptly the singing ceased, and with it passed the mood.

There was a murmur of voices, a strumming on the piano, a passing of
shadows to and fro; and then from the doorway there came gay and
spritely music--and at last a song that he knew. Denver listened
intently, trying to remember the record which had contained this lilting
air. He had it--the "Barcarolle," the boat-song from the "Tales of
Hoffmann!" And she was singing the words in English. He left the shadow
and stepped out into the open, forgetful of everything but the singer,
and the words came out to him clearly.

"Night divine, O night of love,
O smile on our enchantment;
Moon and stars keep watch above
This radiant night of love!"

She came to the end, riding up and down in an ecstatic series of "Ahs!"
and as the song