“Won’t you please repeat this passage?” she said, humming the air with soft modulations; “I have always regarded the monotonous repetition of this strain” (and she indicated it lightly by a few touches of the keys) “as rather a blemish of an otherwise perfect composition. But as you play it, it is anything but monotonous. You put into this single phrase a more intense meaning and a greater variety of thought than I ever suspected it was capable of expressing.”
“It is my favorite composition,” answered he, modestly. “I have bestowed more thought upon it than upon anything I have ever played, unless perhaps it be the one in G minor, which, with all its difference of mood and phraseology, expresses an essentially kindred thought.”
“My dear Mr. Birch,” exclaimed Mrs. Van Kirk, whom his skillful employment of technical terms (in spite of his indifferent accent) had impressed even more than his rendering of the music,—“you are a comsummate{sic} artist, and we shall deem it a great privilege if you will undertake to instruct our child. I have listened to you with profound satisfaction.”
Halfdan acknowledged the compliment by a bow and a blush, and repeated the latter part of the nocturne according to Edith’s request.
“And now,” resumed Edith, “may I trouble you to play the G minor, which has even puzzled me more than the one you have just played.”
“It ought really to have been played first,” replied Halfdan. “It is far intenser in its coloring and has a more passionate ring, but its conclusion does not seem to be final. There is no rest in it, and it seems oddly enough to be a mere transition into the major, which is its proper supplement and completes the fragmentary thought.”
Mother and daughter once more telegraphed wondering looks at each other, while Halfdan plunged into the impetuous movements of the minor nocturne, which he played to the end with ever-increasing fervor and animation.
“Mr. Birch,” said Edith, as he arose from the piano with a flushed face, and the agitation of the music still tingling through his nerves. “You are a far greater musician than you seem to be aware of. I have not been taking lessons for some time, but you have aroused all my musical ambition, and if you will accept me too, as a pupil, I shall deem it a favor.”
“I hardly know if I can teach you anything,” answered he, while his eyes dwelt with keen delight on her beautiful form. “But in my present position I can hardly afford to decline so flattering an offer.”
“You mean to say that you would decline it if you were in a position to do so,” said she, smiling.