looking into each other's face. After a long time, the sweet tremulous voice of the damsel was heard softly enquiring "Traveller, have you lost your way?"—and at that musical voice all the magic wizardry was touched.
The flute of her treble voice swept a touch on a chord in Nobokumar's heart. At times, the wonderful gear of the heart-strings goes out of tune in such a way that with all our efforts no music can be struck out of them, though the defect can be remedied at the fine touch of a single word or the soft voice of a woman. Then everything becomes full of harmony and life an un-ending flow of music. The voice sent a drift into Nabokumar's ear in such sweet strains.
The melody rose in symphony and thrilled a music into Nabokumar's ear—"Traveller, have you lost your way?" The meaning failed him and he found no word of reply. The melody struck the air awhirl thrilling in wild ecstacy, floated through the evening sea-breeze that rustled in tree-leaves and died away in faint thin cadence until lost into the tumult of the sea.
The sea-girt earth was enchanting—the woman enrapturing—the voice thrilling—and the tune ran its whole gamut on heart's vibrating strings.
The maiden receiving no reply said "Follow." With these words, she moved forward with such light gait as could scarcely be visible. Like a fleecy cloud sent adrift by a gentle sigh of the spring, she advanced with slow, easy and unperceived steps with Nabokumar following behind mechanically like a doll working on
