aborate filigree of sound with an impetuosity
and superb ABANDON which caused the ladies to exchange astonished
glances behind his back. The transitions from the light and ethereal
texture of melody to the simple, more concrete theme, which he rendered
with delicate shadings of articulation, were sufficiently startling to
impress even a less cultivated ear than that of Edith Van Kirk, who had,
indeed, exhausted whatever musical resources New York has to offer. And
she was most profoundly impressed. As he glided over the last pianissimo
notes toward the two concluding chords (an ending so characteristic
of Chopin) she rose and hurried to his side with a heedless eagerness,
which was more eloquent than emphatic words of praise.

"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 d