BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 41 



two or three days to slip by, and when I re-visited 

 the old spot the secret charm had vanished. The 

 bird was there, and rose and fell as formerly, pouring 

 out his melody ; but it was not the same ; something 

 was missing from those last sweet languishing notes. 

 Perhaps in the interval there had been some dis- 

 turbing accident in his little wild life, though I could 

 hardly believe it since his mate was still sitting about 

 thirty yards from the tree on the five little mottled 

 eggs in her nest. Or perhaps his midsummer's 

 music had reached its highest point and was now in 

 its declension. And perhaps the fault was in me. 

 The virtue that draws and holds us does not hold 

 us always nor very long ; it departs from all things, 

 and we wonder why. The loss is in ourselves, 

 although we do not know it. Nature, the chosen 

 mistress of our heart, does not change towards us, 

 yet she is now, even to-day — 



"Less full of purple colour and hid spice," 



and smiles and sparkles in vain to allure us, and 

 when she touches us with her warm caressing touch, 

 there is, compared with yesterday, only a faint 

 response. 



