She took a violin from a small table in the corner, and, sitting down where the moonlight fell into the room, she fixed her eyes dreamily upon the cold planet, and began to play. The violin, when skilfully touched, has always affected me more than any other instrument, and I had never been in so susceptible a mood as I was to-night. But ah! what music was that--so strange, so sweet, so wild! Wild it was as the far-off howling of wolves, when the moon shines upon snow-covered prairies; but organised, proportioned, and enriched by the subtle intelligence of a human musician's brain. It stirred my blood with eerie thrills; the home-like room in which I sate grew indistinct and vanished. I was alone with Diana and the music--and where were we? Not on earth, surely--not in any region where men and women ever lived and breathed. My eyes followed hers towards the moon; the white rays touched my heart and spirit, and mystically waived me thither. Slowly the burnished disc waxed larger and brighter: the fairy melody of the violin sounded keener and intenser in my ears: in the rarefied atmosphere I almost ceased to breathe: Diana was before me, but she too seemed fading out of sight: if I lost her, I should be alone in the bottomless void of space. The vibration of the strings died away.... 'Drink this,' said my uncle's deep but kindly voice. 'That's it! You were within an ace of fainting dead away, my dear boy. You must be more exhausted by your journey than I thought. Hadn't you better turn in for the night?' 'It's nothing!--only a sort of--of momentary drowsiness that sometimes comes over me,' I replied, greatly mortified at such a display of my feebleness. 'I shall be all the better for it presently. As for turning in, I can't think of doing that before I've been up to see the telescope!' In saying this, I turned and met the glance of my cousin Diana. I thought--it may have been only a fancy--that she looked upon me with much more tenderness and interest than she had done heretofore. She bent down towards me, resting her beautiful hand on the arm of the sofa, close to my shoulder. 'You shall see it,' she said, in a tone so sweet and gentle that it brought the blood to my cheeks; to see her so near me made me feel warm and happy. 'You shall see what no one else has seen. But not to-night!' 'Oh, why not to-night?' 'You need strength to look at what I have to show.' 'I am not so good-for-nothing as I seem--indeed I'm not!' 'Father, do you think it would be safe?' said she, turning towards my dark-browed uncle, who was standing aside, with his arms folded, thoughtfully gazing at the lamp.