ep. Then the Princess, after asking many questions, took
the vacant place beside her and they sat in silence, looking across the
river, to the woods beyond. To both women came mournful thoughts, yet
with pleasant memories. And soothing to the spirit of each was the
murmur of the woods. To Elinor this plaint of the pines was always a
consoling friend: a sad but soothing lullaby which now had become a part
of her existence. It recalled a year of priceless memories. But these
memories of late had become an unbearable pain,--yet a pain to which she
clung.

For the Princess, also, there were memories, stirred by these voices
overhead, but softened by time. Hers was not the anguish of a recent
sorrow.

From these day-dreams, however, she was brusquely awakened. With no word
of warning, the girl at her side had sprung to her feet and faced about.
Into her face had come a look of unspeakable joy. Her lips were parted
in excitement, and a sudden color was in her cheeks.

This transformation from deepest grief to an overpowering ecstasy
alarmed her companion. And in Elinor's eyes there was a feverish
eagerness, intense, almost delirious, as she exclaimed:

"You heard it?"

"What?"

"That sound! The notes of a quail!"

The Princess shook her head.

"Oh, yes, you heard it! Don't say you did not hear it!"

Then, when the Princess, still looking up in vague alarm, gently shook
her head a second time, Elinor reached forth a hand imploringly, as it
were, and whispered:

"You must have heard it. The whistle of a quail, back there in the
woods?"

To the little woman upon the bench these words had no significance, but
her sympathy was aroused. That sensitive nerves and an aching heart
should succumb, at last, to despair and loneliness and fasting she could
readily understand, and she answered, kindly:

"I heard no bird, dear child, but it may be there. Perhaps your hearing
is better than mine."

At this reply all the joy went out of Elinor's face, leaving a look so
spiritless and despairing that her friend, who could only guess at her
companion's thoughts, added:

"Or it may be nothing. You merely dreamed it, perhaps."

Elinor straightened up. She drew a long breath, and murmured, in a low
voice from which all hope had fled:

"Of course! I dreamed it," and sank wearily into her place upon the
bench.

Furtively, but with pity in her face, the Princess regarded the drooping
head and closed eyes; then she stood up and