Suddenly, the deep silence was broken by the soft whirr of wings. A bird, flying as straight over the moonlighted fields as if let loose by an unseen hand for that purpose, alighted in the boughs over the two motionless figures, and shook down upon them a shower of liquid notes,--sweet, clear, and joyous,--a very prophecy of hope. The song being sung, the bird soon spread its wings and flew back to its nest and its mate. Then Diva rose, and held out her hand to Bergan. "I accept your offer," said she. "Something tells me that the time will come when I can repay you in degree, if not in kind." And Bergan, as he took the white, cool hand--empty now, except perhaps of a half-reluctant gratitude, and a moderate measure of good-will--had a singular intuition that some day it would be held out to him with an inestimable gift in it. V. INTERCEPTED. "You are up early," said Diva Thane, when she entered Coralie's room on the morrow, and found her standing by the window, enjoying the fresh, fragrant air, and the innumerable sweet and cheery sounds of the summer morning. "I thought that you would sleep late after your accident,--or what came so near to being one." "How could I sleep late, when I was ordered off to bed so early?" rejoined Coralie, smiling brightly, and turning her clear brown eyes on her friend. "Besides, I had so much to think about," she added, softly and gravely, letting her glance go back to the flower-beds on the lawn. But it was evident that her reflections, though possibly not without an occasional deep bass note of solemnity, had for the most part sung her a very siren's song of pleasantness and hope; none the less entrancing because a song without words of definite purport. The smile and the flush, with which she had listened, still brightened her face; and a corresponding light was seen shining from what seemed an interminable depth in her eyes,--eyes never so deeply illumined till now. Indeed, it struck Diva with a kind of vague amaze and sadness, that she had never seen this Coralie before! There was an unfamiliar freshness and softness about her, as if she were newly created. The brightness of her face, too, was such as to make her seem more nearly akin to the summer sunshine falling on her through the window, than to mortal shadows and sorrows. In truth, Diva found herself fancying that the sunshine was a good deal the brighter for the happy glow that it caught from her features.