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Once in the night stillness of a sweet dark country lane she had stood in the circle of Donal's arm, her joyous, warm young breast against his and they had heard together the singing of a nightingale in a thicket. "Let us stand still," he had whispered close to her ear. "Let us not speak a word not a word. Oh! little lovely love! Let us only listen and be happy!"
A nightingale singing, clear and untroubled above the unceasing thunder of the cannonade. Very pretty moth, incognito, came and sat on my sleeve. One of the Noctuidae, I fancy, but don't know generic or specific names. About eleven o'clock Sir D. Haig. Unexpected honour. Sir D. serene and cheerful. Showed him about. He was much amused at my eagle.
If Regina's nightingale soul is to be vexed by such disquisitions as those from which you have been quoting, I must say it made a sorry bargain in exchanging brown feathers for pink flesh, and would have had a better time trilling madrigals in some hawthorn thicket or myrtle grove.
"What is that noise?" she asked. It was the noise of the weir, which cut the river in two, at the island. He was explaining it to her, when above the noise of the waterfall they heard the song of a bird, which seemed a long way off. "Listen!" he said; "the nightingales are singing during the day, so the females must be sitting." A nightingale!
An actress, even the most gifted, has no such 'following. The greatest dramatic sopranos that ever sing Brunhilde and Kundry enjoy no such popularity. It belongs exclusively to the nightingale primadonnas, whose voices enchant the ear if they do not always stir the blood. It may be explicable, but no explanation is at all necessary, since the fact cannot be disputed.
An odd meeting indeed, and a miserable one; yet to none of the three so miserable as to the injured Wraysford, who ever since the day of the Nightingale examination had not known a happy hour at Saint Dominic's.
"A leaf from summery days I took it with me on my way, So that it might remind me How loud the nightingale had sung, How green the wood I had passed through." With a pang she felt it was true that summer ended in dead leaves. But she had no leaf, nothing to remind her of her summer days. They were all past and she had nothing not the smallest thing.
Moreover, it was I who was coming, and save for the scrawl of the night before, we had had no communication for many weeks ... She tried to distract her mind by repeating poetry, and the thing that came into her head was Keats's 'Nightingale', an odd poem for the time and place.
The higher voice of one mingled harmoniously with the deeper tones of her companion, and two pairs of dark eyes again met, full of joyous mirth, for they well knew who was deaf, and who had quicker hearing than even the nightingale, which, perched on the green fig-tree outside, was exultingly hailing the sunrise, now with a clear, flute-like warble, now with notes of melancholy longing.
Itys is a circle; and a circle, I was always taught, is the symbol of eternity, having neither beginning nor end; so the nightingale sings, 'I accept it for eternity." "And if I say to you, 'I love thee?" "Then I shall answer gladly, like the sweet nightingale, 'I accept it for to-day, to-morrow, for all eternity!"
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