"Well, forget it quick," he said, "so I can. Only do not play 'Annie Laurie' till the last thing. You brought a mist to my eyes with it the other day. It's a sweet bit, full of tears."
And then, not heeding his pleasantries, many of which she did not understand, Mona drew her dearly loved brown fiddle out of its case, and once more that uncanny den in the rocks echoed to its magic. A medley of old-time ballads, jigs, reels, and dance music came forth in succession, while Winn, forgetting his cigar, yielded to her music and watched her lissom body encased in blue flannel, open at the throat, swaying slightly as she played, her winsome face turned from him in profile and eyes closed at times. Once only, when a certain air recalled the past, did he think of the woman who had scorned him, and whose letter was still unanswered.
"Do not play any more now," he said finally, when Mona paused, "you must be tired."
"I must have tired you of it," she answered bluntly, "and I am glad. I want to hear you talk and tell me about fairies and the great city where you lived, and about that woman who played before people. I wish I could learn to play as you say she did."
"Oh, there's not much to tell about fairies," he answered, smiling at her earnestness, "they are merely imaginary and used to amuse children. Many years ago, when the world was young, people believed in and worshipped them as gods and goddesses; now they are poetic fancies."
"What are poetic fancies?" she asked, understanding him only partially.
"Well, for instance," he answered, "a poet would describe this gorge as a way through the cliff carved by Neptune, and this cave a shelter the mermaids sought to comb their tresses and sing the songs of the sea. Of old every cascade and grotto was believed to be inhabited by nymphs and gnomes, every grove by wood sprites and brownies. If they saw a brook rippling over the pebbles in the sunlight, they said it was elfins dancing; and in autumn when the fallen leaves blew over the hilltops, it was the brownies holding carnival."
"I do not believe such creatures ever did exist," she replied, "but I shall enjoy coming here all the better for having heard about them."
Then as if she already looked to him as a source of all information, she added, "Tell me about the women in your city who ride in carriages and wear beautiful dresses."
A shade of annoyance crossed his face. "I would rather tell you about the fairies, little girl," he answered bitterly; "the women in my world are mostly charming liars. They live to outshine each other in dress, they utter pretty speeches that are false, they go to church to show off their raiment and come back to sneer at what others wear, they consider a man as eligible for a husband solely because he has money, and if he tells them the truth, call him a fool. I do not admire them much, Mona, and the less you know of them the better woman you will grow to be, and the better wife you will make some man."