eness. You don't know the American way of doing things
as well as I do, therefore you must stand by your promise, and leave
everything to me."

It was impossible not to believe that anything Edith chose to do was
above reproach. She looked so bewitching in her excited eagerness for
his welfare that it would have been inhuman to oppose her. So he meekly
succumbed, and began to discuss with her the programme for the concert.

During the next week there was hardly a day that he did not read some
startling paragraph in the newspapers about "the celebrated Scandinavian
pianist," whose appearance at S---- Hall was looked forward to as the
principal event of the coming season. He inwardly rebelled against
the well-meant exaggerations; but as he suspected that it was Edith's
influence which was in this way asserting itself in his behalf, he set
his conscience at rest and remained silent.

The evening of the concert came at last, and, as the papers stated the
next morning, "the large hall was crowded to its utmost capacity with
a select and highly appreciative audience." Edith must have played her
part of the performance skillfully, for as he walked out upon the stage,
he was welcomed with an enthusiastic burst of applause, as if he had
been a world-renowned artist. At Edith's suggestion, her two favorite
nocturnes had been placed first upon the programme; then followed one
of those ballads of Chopin, whose rhythmic din and rush sweep onward,
beleaguering the ear like eager, melodious hosts, charging in thickening
ranks and columns, beating impetuous retreats, and again uniting
with one grand emotion the wide-spreading army of sound for the
final victory. Besides these, there was one of Liszt's "Rhapsodies
Hongroises," an impromptu by Schubert, and several orchestral pieces;
but the greater part of the programme was devoted to Chopin, because
Halfdan, with his great, hopeless passion laboring in his breast, felt
that he could interpret Chopin better than he could any other composer.
He carried his audience by storm. As he retired to the dressing-room,
after having finished the last piece, his friends, among whom Edith and
Mrs. Van Kirk were the most conspicuous, thronged about him, showering
their praises and congratulations upon him. They insisted with much
friendly urging upon taking him home in their carriage; Clara kissed
him, Mrs. Van Kirk introduced him to her lady acquaintances as "our
friend, Mr. Birch," and Edith held