"Yes, is it not? I wish I was a critic, Angus, instead of a poor author. I am always wrong, you know, and they are constantly right, but then I don't know so much as they do. When I write a book I've to see things for myself, but they can sit down and correct me without going outside the four walls of their study. What a pity Shakespeare had not critics in his day! They would have pointed out all the defects in Hamlet, and good-naturedly corrected Lear for him. I daresay they would have shown him how to improve his blank verse. It does need improving, you know, because I heard a poet say so the other day. A real poet, much better than Browning or Tennyson, only he wasn't known so well. Just twenty-two years of age, and yet could talk like that--wonderful. But don't speak any more about critics, because I'm so fond of them that I could praise them for hours. Let us talk of meaner things. Tell me all the news of the day, the scandals of the hour, the gossip of the drawing-rooms, and stories of clubs."
"Faith, I don't know that I've much to tell you," said Otterburn candidly. "I've been on the war-path as well as yourself, so am just an ignorant of town as you are."
Gartney smoked on quietly for a few moments, and then suddenly asked the question nearest his heart:
"What about the Erringtons, Macjean?"
"I haven't the least idea," replied Angus carelessly, "as I have not seen them since you did at Como. I believe they are still living at their place in the country, and that Lady Errington has presented her husband with a son and heir."
"Yes, I heard that," said Gartney, with a slight smile. "I wonder if my prophecy has come true?"
"Eh!--what prophecy?"
"About the Incomplete Madonna."
"Oh, yes, I remember now," responded Otterburn indolently, "you said she was unfinished, didn't you? Well, I suppose she's happy now, as she has gained her heart's desire and become a mother."
"I've no doubt she's happy," said Eustace significantly; "but what about her husband?"