Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1878-06-08

II I'm afraid he has lot money, poor man,"
sighed he peetpS~.
-" Oh, Miss Film'r, What was the name o.
tie review that attacked your
The EtoRk Rer e.r.'' r1.,,Ird Mrs. Slle!ait
FOL ler fitld did you ever hear of it?
hts, laid |, as caFcl >>ly as could, b t
hi OF lump began 70 ri c in my thro..: Il
Lave seen the periodical. Did Miss Fi;mef
publish under her own nane?'
No, she took the nom de plume o! Dora
fortunately: think sac would h., dy eve,
have got over the attack, II it had not BEEN
for tie shelter of q pseudonym.'
Nil. .Joues will think me very thin-slda-
ned" said Miss Finer wi tn a smile; but do
not think thai / should have taken any fair
criticism of my book, however severe, to
heart. Indeed, some were kind and some
were harsh, and set them against one am
Their. But this particular notice seemed TO be
dicta ed by personal malice, for it sought to
turn me into ridicule, rs well as my WORK. 1t
made me leel as if had done bod and un-
wOmanIy thing. and certainly cured me for
ever of authorship. No success would com
penSate one for being made the subject of
such attacks"
If give you my real name, which of course
isl no. Jones, You would recognize the fact
that am not generally considered deficient
in that useful forensic neutrality-suspicious.
We call it brass. Even in those early days !
was not easily put out of cOGntenance. Bat
on that occasion did wish that the bottom
Of the boat >uld open. an friendly barbel
Ofwhale-like prOporfi ms absorb me quietly.
For once in my life did feel most utterly
and intOerahiy ashamed of myself. That
pretty little, delicate, gentle girl, so refined,
so SeESi'ive-oh! ii was just as if had st uck
blind man, or an infant!
That is the old form" gasDed Sinclair.
But 1-say-you knOw-we have-to come
back-again."
You will knock my poor husband quite up
that had touch of anxiety in it. And, in
truth, trying to escape from my reflections,
and not aware what was about, had set him
a racing stroke, and we were tearing through
the water at grand pace. | eaSied at once,
and presently We turned was so thoroughly
disconcerted, however, that made my blist-
and to. shifting the brunt of conversation to
Sinclair.
Before we retired that evening l borrowed
the volume OF poems 1t was indeed the
unkindly; but why did they let her choose
such provoking title? | read every line be
fore going to bed, and felt more ashamed of
myself as proceeded; 1t was not merely the
merit of the verses which rebuke.l M, though
they were more than meri OriDuS, but
but the kindness, the. broad charity, the
that is most noble in humanity, should have
guaranteed the book against insult, at all
events. passed bad night over it, but re-
covered my self possession in the morning.
and at breakfast exp GSSed myself in term
Which brought color into the cheeks and light
into the eyes of the poeteSS. AS for the hos
tile critic, slluded to him in way which pre-
vented the ladies ever mentioning his libel
again, for fear, as Sinclair told me, lest |
should find out who the culprit was and be-
come engaged in some personal conflict with
him. That might be spared no element of
remorSe, Miss Daisy proved to be an orphan
and poor: her father, a retired colonel, hay
ing fallen Into The trap which catches SO many
old officers, and become director of some
company which broke down and swallowed
his little property.
However, | minaged to calm myself down,
and tried to make amends by being as agree
able as could to the young lady l had unwit-
tlngly injured. It was gather a dangerous
operation, considering that | was several
years short OF thirty, and she was still
younger, but it had the fascination about il
which dangerous games often have. What
with bathing, boating and making amends a
fortnight slipped away presently, and when
returned to town at the end of that time |
could scarcely be called free man.