"
"It is no play!" said Lady Mabel, much confused. "I have just been
throwing away my powers of elocution in an attempt to make Colonel
L'Isle perceive the beauties of a piece of model poetry, moulded in
the purest Spanish taste. I thought him gifted with some poetic
feeling, but he shows not the slightest sense of its peculiar merits."
L'Isle, though much out of countenance, had kept his seat through the
recitation, but now got up looking little pleased with it.
"Try me," said Major Warren. "You may be more successful in finding a
critic."
"I never suspected you of any critical acumen," said Lady Mabel; "and
so could not be disappointed."
"Do not overlook me," said Bradshawe. "Poetry is the expression of
natural feeling, in a state of exaltation. Now, I am always in an
exalted state of feeling in your company, and may be just now a very
capable judge."
"No; one failure is enough for me," said Lady Mabel. "I am not in the
humor to repeat it."
"Let me read it then," said Bradshawe, offering to take the paper from
her hand.
Lady Mabel declined, and L'Isle tried to divert his attention. But
Bradshawe's curiosity was strongly excited, and he made more than one
playful attempt to get possession of the verses.
Pages:
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360