But I was not going to let you have the
paper till I had devoured every word of it myself first."
"Every word of what?"
"Of what you shan't have unless you promise to be good for a week.
Such a Review; and from America! What a dear man he must be who wrote
it! I really think I should kiss him if I met him."
"And I really think he would not say no. But as he's not here, I shall
act as his proxy."
"Be quiet, and read that, if you can, for blushes;" and she spread out
the paper before him, and then covered his eyes with her hands. "No,
you shan't see it; it will make you vain."
Elsley had looked eagerly at the honeyed columns; (as who would not
have done?) but the last word smote him. What was he thinking of? his
own praise, or his wife's love?
"Too true," he cried, looking up at her. "You dear creature! Vain I
am, God forgive me: but before I look at a word of this I must have a
talk with you."
"I can't stop; I must run back to the children. No; now don't look
cross;" as his brow clouded, "I only said that to tease you. I'll
stop with you ten whole minutes, if you won't look so very solemn and
important. I hate tragedy faces. Now what is it?"
As all this was spoken while both her hands were clasped round
Elsley's neck, and with looks and tones of the very sweetest as well
as the very sauciest, no offence was given, and none taken: but
Elsley's voice was sad as he asked,--
"So you really do care for my poems?"
"You great silly creature? Why else did I marry you at all? As if I
cared for anything in the world but your poems; as if I did not love
everybody who praises them; and if any stupid reviewer dares to say a
word against them I could kill him on the spot.
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