Then, to his surprise, she began one of the late light operas he had sent for and given her weeks before. She did not play it with ease, a halt came now and then, but she played it all through and then paused.
"I am surprised," he said; "when and how did you learn that? You told me you could not read a note of music."
"I have been learning to read," she answered quietly, "and Uncle Jess has helped me."
And then Winn, wishing to encourage her in some way, or at least lead her thoughts out of their present gloom, uttered a bit of foolish advice.
"Mona, my dear," he said earnestly, "some day I hope you may have a chance to study music in the city. If you have, and I would advise it, you will win a name for yourself."
"Would you come to hear me if I did?" she answered sadly.
"Most assuredly," he said, "and shower you with choicest flowers."
When the lowering sun had left the gorge in shadow, and twilight had crept into the cave, Mona picked up her violin, and, as if to utter her own heartache, softly played the old love song Winn had first heard whispering out of that wild gorge. Watching her and listening thus to what seemed the quivering of that girl's heart, his eyes grew misty.
"Come, dear," he said, when the sad song ended, "it's time to go home."
And all the way back he held her arm and gently guided her steps among the rocks.