"Of course, stay right where you were," said John quietly, "or rather sit here." He placed a cushion for Sylvia on the top step, and as she accepted the position he placed himself at her feet.
Miss Martha sank into a rocking-chair, and Judge Trent moved down upon the grass, where he walked back and forth, a shadowy figure in the evening hush, for the wind goes down with the sun at Hawk Island.
"Ask her to sing the 'Sea Pictures,'" suggested Sylvia to her companion.
John called his request, and Edna complied. She had scarcely commenced the first song when a halo of light appeared on the horizon, foretelling the edge of the orange-colored disc which soon began its splendid ascent from the silhouetted waves. The air was full of the scent of sweet peas, that clung in lavish abundance to the base of the cottage. The vista of firs framed the rising moon, which gradually flecked the water with dancing gold. Edna's voice flooded the air with strange melody.
Sylvia's responsive sense yielded to the witchery of the hour. Petty thoughts were swept away. John's eyes were constantly drawn back to her rapt face as the light grew clearer.
"The little stars are going out, do you see?" she murmured, and he nodded.
Soon Edna began the accompaniment of "In Haven," the one which Sylvia called the island song. The first notes brought a new light to her face, and she smiled into Dunham's upturned eyes.
"This is mine," she said. The words of the song came clearly to them, as the moon-path broadened and lengthened between the spires of the firs.
"Closely let me hold thy hand,
Storms are sweeping sea and land,