“The woods were God’s first temples,” Marian whispered.
For the moment she lived as in a trance. A great lover of music, she felt the thrill of perfect melody breaking over her soul like bright waves upon golden sand. She fancied that this melody had no human origin, that it was a spontaneous outburst from the very heart of the forest; God himself speaking through the mute life of earth.
When this illusion had passed she still stood there wondering.
“Attatak, what day of the week is this?”
For a moment Attatak did not answer. She was counting on her fingers.
“Sunday,” she said at last.
“Sunday,” Marian repeated. “And that is a pipe organ. How wonderful! How perfectly beautiful! A pipe organ in the midst of the forest!”
“And yet,” she hesitated, scarcely daring to believe her senses, “how could a pipe organ be brought way up here?”
“But it is!” she affirmed a few seconds later. “Attatak, you watch the deer while I go ahead and find out what sort of place it is, and whether there are dangerous dogs about.”
Her wonder grew with every step that she took in the direction of the mysterious musician. As she came closer, and the tones became more distinct, she knew that she could not be mistaken.