Then she sang a gay little French song about Love and a Butterfly, with a mocking refrain, which made Brian laugh.
"A memory of Offenbach," he said, rising and coming over to the piano. "We certainly can't touch the French in writing these airy trifles."
"They're unsatisfactory, I think," said Madge, running her fingers over the keys; "they mean nothing."
"Of course not," he replied; "but don't you remember that DeQuincy says there is no moral, either big or little, in the Iliad; so these light chansons are something similar."
"Well, I think there's more music in Barbara Allen than all those frothy things," said Madge, with fine scorn. "Come and sing it."
"A five-act funeral, it is," groaned Brian, as he rose to obey; "let's have Garry Owen instead."
Nothing else, however, would suit the capricious young person at the piano, so Brian sang the quaint old ditty of Barbara Allan, who treated her dying love with such disdain.
"Sir John Graham was an ass," said Brian, when he had finished; "or, instead of dying in such a silly manner, he'd have married her right off, without asking her permission."
"I don't think she was worth marrying," replied Madge, opening a book of Mendelssohn's duets; "or she wouldn't have made such a fuss over her health not being drunk."
"Depend upon it, she was a plain woman," remarked Brian, gravely, "and was angry because she wasn't toasted among the rest of the country belles. I think the young man had a narrow escape myself—she'd always have reminded him about that unfortunate oversight."
"You seem to have analyzed her nature pretty well," said Madge, a little dryly; "however, we'll leave the failings of Barbara Allen alone, and sing this."
This was Mendelssohn's charming duet, "Would that My Love," which was a great favorite of Brian's. They were in the middle of it when Madge suddenly stopped, as she heard a loud cry, evidently proceeding from her father's study. Recollecting Dr. Chinston's warning, she ran out of the room and upstairs, leaving Brian rather puzzled by her unceremonious departure, for though he had heard the cry, yet he did not attach much importance to it.
Madge knocked at the study door, and then she tried to open it, but it was locked.
