She was singing alone, a wonderful thing in itself, and in her eyes was neither fear nor maidenly shrinking; she was indeed thrillingly absorbed and self-forgetful.

There was something singular and arresting in the poise of her head.

Her eyes seemed to look through and beyond the prison walls, far into some finer, purer land than any earthly feet had trod, and her song had a touch of genuine poetry in it: "If I were a voice, a persuasive voice, That could travel the whole earth through, I would fly on the wings of the morning light And speak to men with a gentle might And tell them to be true-- If I were a voice." The heart of the boy expanded.

Music and poetry and love were waked in him by the voice of this singing girl.

To others she was merely simple and sweet; to him she was a messenger.