"The Excelsior!" said Hugh.
"Yes the magazine I sent my things to I was running over their advertisement here, where they give a special puff of the publication in general, and of several things in particular, and I saw here they speak of 'A tale of thrilling interest, by Mrs. Eliza Lothbury, unsurpassed,' and so forth, and so forth; 'another valuable communication from Mr. Charleston, whose first acute and discriminating paper all our leaders will remember; the beginning of a new tale from the infallibly graceful pen of Miss Delia Lawriston: we are sure it will be so and so; 'The Wind's Voices,' by our new correspondent, 'Hugh,' has a delicate sweetness that would do no discredit to some of our most honoured names!' What do you think of that?"
What Hugh thought he did not say, but he looked delighted, and came to read the grateful words for himself.
"I did not know but they had declined it utterly," said Fleda; "it was so long since I had sent it, and they had taken no notice of it; but it seems they kept it for the beginning of a new volume."
" 'Would do no discredit to some of our most honoured names!' " said Hugh. "Dear Fleda, I am very glad! But it is no more than I expected."
"Expected!" said Fleda. "When you had not seen a line! Hush, my dear Hugh, aren't you hungry?"
The tea, with this spice to their appetites, was wonderfully relished; and Hugh and Fleda kept making despatches of secret pleasure and sympathy to each other's eyes; though Fleda's face, after the first flush had faded, was perhaps rather quieter than usual. Hugh's was illuminated.
"Mr. Skillcorn is a smart man," said Barby, coming in with a package; "he has made out to go two miles in two hours, and get back again safe."
"More from the post-office!" exclaimed Fleda, pouncing upon it. "O yes, there has been another mail. A letter for you, aunt Lucy, from uncle Rolf. We'll forgive him, Barby and here's a letter for me, from uncle Orrin, and yes the Excelsior. Hugh, uncle Orrin said he would send it. Now for those blessed pineknots. Aunt Lucy, you shall be honoured with the one whole candle the house contains."
The table soon cleared away, the basket of fat fuel was brought in; and one or two splinters being delicately insinuated between the sticks on the fire, a very brilliant illumination sprang out. Fleda sent a congratulatory look over to Hugh on the other side of the fireplace, as she cosily established herself on her little bench at one corner with her letter: he had the magazine. Mrs. Rossitur between them at the table, with her one candle, was already insensible to all outward things.