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. It broke at
last in a crystal shower of song, and she turned and looked out over the
glittering sea and asked herself if it could be real. It was as if a
spirit had called to her out of the summer night.

Then Columbus came careering along the path in fevered search of her, and
quite suddenly, like the closing of a lid, the magic sounds vanished into
a deep silence.

"Oh, Columbus!" his mistress murmured reproachfully. "You've stopped
the music!"

Columbus responded by planting his paws against her, and giving her a
vigorous push. There was decidedly more of common sense than poetry in
his composition. The passion for exploring which had earned him his name
was his main characteristic, and he wanted to get as far as possible
before the time arrived to turn back.

She yielded to his persuasion, and walked on up the path with her face to
the shimmering sea. For some reason she felt divinely happy, as if she
had drunk of the wine of the gods. It had been so wonderful--that song of
starlight and of Spring.

It was very warm, and she wore neither hat nor wrap. If she had come out
in a bathing-dress, no one would have known, she reflected. But in this
she was wrong, for presently, as she sauntered along, she became aware of
a faint scent other than the wonderful cocoa-nut perfume of the gorse
bushes--a scent that made her aware of the presence of another human
being in that magic place.

She looked about for him with a faint smile on her lips, but the
cliff-path ran empty before her, ascending in a series of fairly stiff
climbs to the brow of High Shale Point. Columbus hurried along ahead of
her as if he had made up his mind to reach the top at all costs. But
Juliet had no intention of mounting to the summit of the frowning cliff
that night. She had a vagrant desire to track that elusive scent, but
even that, it seemed was not to be satisfied, and at length she stopped
again and sent a summoning whistle after Columbus.

It was almost a