It was the twilight hour, almost too dusk to see; but she could distinguish Isabel seated at the piano, and Mr.Carlyle standing behind her.

She was singing one of the ballads from the opera of the "Bohemian Girl," "When other Lips." "Why do you like that song so much, Archibald ?" she asked when she had finished it.
"I don't know.

I never liked it so much until I heard it from you." "I wonder if they are come in.

Shall we go into the next room ?" "Just this one first--this translation from the German--' 'Twere vain to tell thee all I feel.' There's real music in that song." "Yes, there is.

Do you know, Archibald, your taste is just like papa's.
He liked all these quiet, imaginative songs, and so do you.