And then, as she turned and suddenly met Louis’ eyes, her face broke into a smile of sudden amusement.
“What is it?” said the young man, eagerly.
“I was laughing at some lines from the ‘Bab Ballads’ that happened to come into my head just then,” she said.
“What were they? I dote upon the Babs. Do let’s have them.”
“Lord Lardy would smile and observe,
‘How strange are the customs of France!’”
quoted Margaret. “I dare say they don’t seem very relevant. But come, let’s go on with the music,” she added, hurriedly. “We must not prolong the interruption.”
Mr. Gaston had smiled at her quotation and then become suddenly grave. As he selected a sheet of music and put it on the rack before her, he said seriously:
“I sometimes see that there are little points that we look at very differently. Perhaps we may come to understand each other by-and-by. I hope so, sincerely. And now, are you familiar with this, and do you care for it?”
The selection happened to be a favorite of Margaret’s, and she entered delightedly into its rendition, and very soon the lovely strains of the sweet, sympathetic voice had banished all discordant thoughts and memories.