noon
Bred upon harsh salt winds , living a life of Spartan simplicity , where the sprigs of lavender in the linen closet wafted all she knew of scent to her eager nostrils , this first moment of tropical pleasure confused itself with the dreams of years , and she hardly dared open her eyes lest Nevis vanish and she find herself striding over the moor , her head down , her hands clutching her cape , while the North Sea thundered in her ears . She lifted her head suddenly , straining her own throat . A bird poured forth a flood of melody that seemed to give voice to the perfumes and the rich beauty of the night , without troubling the silence . She had read of this `` nightingale of a tropic noon '' but had not imagined that a small brown bird , bred below the equator , could rival in power and dulcet tones the great songster of the North . But it sang as if its throat had the compass of a Mario 's , and in a moment another philomel pealed forth his desire , then another , and another , until the whole island seemed to swirl in a musical tide . Anne , with a sudden unconscious gesture , opened her arms and flung them out , as if to embrace and hold all the enchantment of a Southern night before it fled ; and for the first time in her life she found that realities could give the spirit a deep intoxicating draught . The nightingales trilled into silence .