She sat down on the steps to listen.
The self-conscious feeling that she was acting a part in a play came back afresh, and made her hastily pull down her skirts and assume a listening attitude.

Thinking how effective she would look on a stage she leaned back against the carved banister, clasping her hands around her knees, and gazing up at the ruby heart in the stained glass window above her.

But in a moment both self and pose were forgotten.

She had never dreamed that the world held such music as the flood of melody which came rolling up from below.

It seemed to lift her out of herself and into another world; a world of nameless longings and exalted ambitions, of burning desire to do great deeds.