“But your reviewer does not say so. Quite the contrary. He describes it as full of very tender scenes.”
“I hope you may like them.”
“Oh! I’m so anxious to read it!” continued the young girl, without appearing to notice the speech so pointedly addressed to her. “I’m sure I shan’t sleep to-night, thinking about it!”
“Miss Vernon, you know not how much I am gratified by the interest you take in my first literary effort. If,” added the author with a laugh, “I could only think you would not be able to sleep the night after reading it, I might believe in the success which the newspaper speaks of.”
“Perhaps it may be so. We shall soon see. Papa has already telegraphed to Mudie’s for the book to be sent down, and we may expect it by the morning train. To-morrow night—if you’ve not made the story a very long one—I promise you my judgment upon it.”
“The story is not long. I shall be impatient to hear what you think of it.”
And he was impatient. All next day, while tramping through stubble and turnip-field in pursuit of partridges, and banging away at the birds, he had thoughts only of his book, and her he knew to be reading it!