Mr. Leonard felt that he had failed his religion . He could not give Naomi the help that was in it for her . Felix drew the bow softly , perplexedly over the strings . He had no idea what he should play . Then his eyes were caught and held by Naomi 's burning , mesmeric , blue gaze as she lay on her crumpled pillow . A strange , inspired look came over the boy 's face . He began to play as if it were not he who played , but some mightier power , of which he was but the passive instrument . Sweet and soft and wonderful was the music that stole through the room . Mr. Leonard forgot his heartbreak and listened to it in puzzled amazement . He had never heard anything like it before . How could the child play like that ? He looked at Naomi and marvelled at the change in her face . The fear and frenzy were going out of it ; she listened breathlessly , never taking her eyes from Felix . At the foot of the bed the idiot girl sat with tears on her cheeks . In that strange music was the joy of the innocent , mirthful childhood , blent with the laughter of waves and the call of glad winds . Then it held the wild , wayward dreams of youth , sweet and pure in all their wildness and waywardness . They were followed by a rapture of young love -- all-surrendering , all-sacrificing love . The music changed . It held the torture of unshed tears , the anguish of a heart deceived and desolate . Mr. Leonard almost put his hands over his ears to shut out its intolerable poignancy .
But XXXXX the dying woman 's face was only a strange relief , as if some dumb , long-hidden pain had at last won to the healing of utterance .
In as at by of on over that through with