"Well, I beg your pardon for not doing so," returned he. "Will you grant it?"
There was something in the rueful appearance he assumed, which forced her to laugh in spite of her efforts at dignity and restraint, and thus he was reinstated in her good graces.
"Are you playing?" he asked, touching his own fingers upon the keys, but at a respectful distance from hers.
"No," she returned. "I have practised so little of late I have lost all my ear. Won't you favor me with that thrilling piece from Beethoven, you performed on the first evening of our acquaintance?" She looked eagerly in his face as she spoke.
"What will you do for me if I will?" he asked.
"O, anything in my power!" she replied, rising, and motioning him to assume the music-stool, which he did very readily. Skilfully running over the keys, by way of prelude, while she stood leaning gracefully against the instrument, intently regarding his movements, he commenced the symphony. The swelling notes rose on the air in brilliant variety, and when, at the end of the second chorus, the rich, mellow tones of his voice were added, Louise dropped on her knees beside the performer, while tears gathered in her eyes and rolled over her beautiful face. He did not seem to heed her position, so intently was his soul occupied with the music his lips were breathing. At length the last magic strain died mournfully away. Then he rested his deep blue eyes calmly on her glowing features.
"What shall I do for you?" she asked, smiling.
"You promised," answered he, "to do anything I wished, if I would sing the piece."
"So I will," returned she, earnestly.
"Then," said he, in a low, thrilling tone, "as Steerforth said to David, think of me at my best."