Volume Ii Part 31 (1/2)
”You have seen it before?”
”Why?” Fleda said, with a look up at him, at once a little startled and a little curious ? ”what makes you say so?”
”Because ? pardon me ? you did not read it.”
”Oh,” said Fleda, laughing, but colouring at the same time very frankly, ”I can tell how I like some things without reading them very carefully.”
Mr. Carleton looked at her, and then took the magazine again.
”What have you there, Mr. Carleton?” said Florence.
”A piece of English, on which I was asking this lady's opinion, Miss Evelyn.”
”Now, Mr. Carleton,” exclaimed Constance, jumping up ? ”I am going to ask you to decide a quarrel between Fleda and me about a point of English ?”
”Hush, Constance!” said her mother ? ”I want to speak to Mr.
Carleton. Mr. Carleton, how do you like it?”
”Like what, Mamma?” said Florence.
”A piece I gave Mr. Carleton to read. Mr. Carleton, tell me how you like it, Sir.”
”But what is it, Mamma!”
”A piece of poetry in an old _Excelsior_ ? 'The Spirit of the Fireside.' Mr. Carleton, wont you read it aloud, and let us all hear? but tell me, first, what you think of it.”
”It has pleased me particularly, Mrs. Evelyn.”
”Mr. Stackpole says he does not understand it, Sir.”
”Fanciful,” said Mr. Stackpole; ”it's a little fanciful ? and I can't quite make out what the fancy is.”
”It has been the misfortune of many good things before, not to be prized, Mr. Stackpole,” said the lady, funnily.
”True, Ma'am,” said that gentleman, rubbing his chin, ”and the converse is also true, unfortunately, and with a much wider application.”
”There is a peculiarity of mental development or training,”
said Mr. Carleton, ”which must fail of pleasing many minds, because of their wanting the corresponding key of nature or experience. Some literature has a hidden free-masonry of its own.”
”Very hidden, indeed!” said Mr. Stackpole; ”the cloud is so thick that I can't see the electricity.”
”Mr. Carleton,” said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing, ”I take that remark as a compliment, Sir; I have always appreciated that writer's pieces; I enjoy them very much.”
”Well, wont you, please, read it, Mr. Carleton?” said Florence, ”and let us know what we are talking about.”
Mr. Carleton obeyed, standing where he was, by the centre- table.