IV
In the evening, as Anniston wandered through the shadowy, enchanting valley near the fortress, the faint sound of a girl's singing was wafted gently on the breeze to his ears. Instantly, his face lit up with unmistakable pleasure, and he started off in quest of the singer. He soon came upon her, a picture of profound repose, stretched at full length among the flowers, the finest flower of all, her eyes half closed in blissful meditation, the words falling softly from her lips and melting away on the cool, inviting air. For a moment he gazed upon her thus, carried away by the charm and beauty of her singing, and the words of Bishop Risland came unbidden to his mind, "Woman is God's greatest creation, the reed that bends to every breeze but breaks not in the tempest."
"Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream," he commented softly as she finished the song.
At his words, Berenice lifted her face to his, and he noticed that her eyes bore a look of almost celestial sadness, but, as they fell upon him, her face became wreathed in smiles.
"Your words are extremely complimentary," she murmured sweetly and motioned for him to sit beside her.
