The record-union., 1892-04-23

the nonsense he publishes. / shall never
forget that review; every wretched word
of it is burned deep into my heart, and
when l remember the hundreds of
equally cruel and equally just notices
l must be fair to myself-that | had writ
ten, feel happy to have left the trade TO
others who have less unwieldly consci-
ences and tougher hearts.
On Sunday morning L rose early. L
had not slept well-I do not wish to pre-
tend | had-neither did / eat good
breakfast, but / was awake to the neces-
slty of dressing carefully, particularly
carefully, and this L did. l strolled
northward toward Park Crescent, where
Mrs. Winterton lived; all the good peo-
pie were coming out of church, and the
dinners We're coming to meet them out of
the bakehouses. 1t was clear, frosty
morning. Every one seemed cheerful
and eontented. / had never known Lon
don look so bright and happy. AS for
me, walked on air. erect, with swing
ing steps, smiling pleasantly at the pass
ers-by, for / did not know what was be-
fore me.
Of course. Mrs. Winterton was at home
to me. just as she had been for the last
ten Sundays at this hour. No one was
there, and she would be down in a min
ute. Jane smiled at me as usual for /
was very regular visitor, and remem-
bered Jane handsomely in my prayers
ana Christmas boxes. l walked through
The Grawing-room into the boudolr,
where l was privileged to enter. She
would come there, / knew. A copy of
the StoSher was lying on the table-cut.
too, / noticed. 1 wondered if she had
read my article ON "Romola." 1t was a
careful, well-considered thing, I thought.
She used often to say she could tell my
hand at once. Poor Katei
l saw the moment she entered, that
something was amiss. Women can hide
everything but tears-tell- tears. /
remember hearing an American pirl say
she envied baby its power Of crying for
an hour or TWO and turning up fresh at
the bout. From feminine point of view,
the piishment is undoubtedly
worth acquiring. We tried to talk, but
1t was a failure. / dare say was nerv-
Gus, but then so was Kate. She was quite
ddst1dlt,s and not in the least her own
bright self. Instead of our usual frank,
open conversation, it was the weather
and Disraeli's last good thing. ! was de-
termined TO break through her reserve.
My eye caught the SiaSheT lying open by
her side.
We'll, Mrs. Winterton, you have been
reading the SGSher | see?"
She darted keen look at me, and with
something of her old fire, but with trace
of bitterness in the laugh that accom-
panied her answer, she replied:
..'Oh, yes, | have read the Siosher."
did you look at 'Romola?' -
mo. | only read one thing-a short
notice Of some poems or something" she
said, taking up the paper and looking at
it carelessly.
| rose and seated myself on a chair
slightly behind her.
Il can show it you," said; "'Sighs
from my Hearth
Did you write that review?" she said,
half rising and bending forward to make
up the fire.
l could not see her face, or 1 might
have been tempted to tell lie.
Yes, wrote it," said. Its smart;
don't you think so?''
1T smart" she replied, after pause,
as though she was reading it over again,
very smart
"pll lend you the book to look at,'' 1
continued. Its the greatest trash you
ever read. Awful rubbisn.n
''Thank you," she answered coldly,
still reading the paper, with her face
turned from me.
''Suchiirresistibly comic stuff, that TO
my Heron l couldn't help quoting the re-
His locks are gold,