One morning, Donal in the schoolroom with Davie, a knock came to the door, and lady Arctura entered.
“The wind is blowing from the south-east,” she said.
“Listen then, my lady, whether you can hear anything,” said Donal. “I fancy it is a very precise wind that is wanted.”
“I will listen,” she answered, and went.
The day passed, and he heard nothing more. He was at work in his room in the warm evening twilight, when Davie came running to his door, and said Arkie was coming up after him. He rose and stood at the top of the stair to receive her. She had heard the music, she said—very soft: would he go on the roof?
“Where were you, my lady,” asked Donal, “when you heard it? I have heard nothing up here!”
“In my own little parlour,” she replied. “It was very faint, but I could not mistake it.”
They went upon the roof. The wind was soft and low, an excellent thing in winds. They knew the paths of the roof better now, and had plenty of light, although the moon, rising large and round, gave them little of hers yet, and were soon at the foot of the great chimney-stack, which grew like a tree out of the house. There they sat down to wait and hearken.
“I am almost sorry to have made this discovery!” said Donal.
“Why?” asked lady Arctura. “Should not the truth be found, whatever it may be? You at least think so!”