Nearer and nearer they came, and more and more excited became Mrs.Woods's apprehensions.

Gretchen began to cry, through nervous excitement, and with the first rush of tears came to her, as usual, the thought of her violin.
She took up the instrument, tuned it with nervous fingers, and drew the bow across the strings, making them shriek as with pain, and then drifted into the air the music of the Traumerei.
"Fiddling, Gretchen--fiddling in the shadow of death?
I don't know but what you are right--that tune, too!" The music trembled; the haunting strain quivered, rose and descended, and was repeated over and over again.
"There is no movement in the pines," said Mrs.Woods.

"It is growing darker.

Play on.

It does seem as though that strain was stolen from heaven to overcome evil with." Gretchen played.