Her form was perfect in its grace, and her
face--well, we will not go into a description, but let it suffice to say
that there are few girls in all the world who surpass her in the
exquisite loveliness of her face.
Desmond studied the girl for a long time and he observed that she
appeared to be perfectly contented and happy. She had her mandolin with
her, and after quite a period of abstraction she took up her instrument,
and soon her splendid voice sounded clear and melodious on the still
air, for it was an afternoon when nature rested under a spell, as it
were; not a breath of air appeared to float amid the leaves and flowers.
A moment, and our hero made the most delightful discovery of his life.
Amy was singing and improvising; she did it readily and charmingly, and
her hidden auditor was indeed charmed. She was singing to an absent one,
and she mingled the name of our hero in her song. It was a plea for the
absent one to return, and the sweetness of the melody was not more
entrancing than the verses. She appeared to be not only a singer but a
poetess, possessed of rare talent.
Desmond did not appear inclined to break the spell, but when he saw Amy
making preparations to depart he stepped from his place of concealment.
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