'But I would I could tell its hidden purport; for I am one of those who think music none the worse for carrying with it an air of such sound as speaks to the brain as well as the heart.' Lady Margaret gave a playful sigh.
'Thou hast one fault, my Edward--thou art a stranger to the tongue in which, through my old nurse's tales, I learned the language of love.

I cannot call it my mother-tongue, but it is my love-tongue.

Why, when thou art from me, I am loving thee in Irish all day long, and thou never knowest what my heart says to thee! It is a sad lack in thy all-completeness, dear heart.

But, I bethink me, thy new cousin did sing a fair song in thy own tongue the other day, the which if thou canst understand one straw better than my Irish, I will learn it for thy sake, though truly it is Greek to me.

I will send for her.