I couldn't play a thing but for shutting my eyes.
It's a wonderful deal that comes of shutting your eyes! Did you never try it, miss ?" Mary was so astonished both by what he said and the simplicity with which he said it, having clearly no notion that he was uttering anything strange, that she was silent, and the man, after a moment's retuning, began again to play.

Then did Mary gather all her listening powers, and brace her attention to the tightest--but at first with no better success.

And, indeed, that was not the way to understand.

It seems to me, at least, in my great ignorance, that one can not understand music unless he is humble toward it, and consents, if need be, not to understand.

When one is quiescent, submissive, opens the ears of the mind, and demands of them nothing more than the hearing--when the rising waters of question retire to their bed, and individuality is still, then the dews and rains of music, finding the way clear for them, soak and sink through the sands of the mind, down, far down, below the thinking-place, down to the region of music, which is the hidden workshop of the soul, the place where lies ready the divine material for man to go making withal.
Weary at last with vain effort, she ceased to endeavor, and in a little while was herself being molded by the music unconsciously received to the further understanding of it.