-path, there was no longer
any hypocrisy in her happiness. Madeline believed that no human being
could talk as did her father, and on this occasion he came out with
his freshest thoughts and his brightest wit. Nor did he, by any
means, have the talk all to himself. The delight of Judge Staveley's
conversation consisted chiefly in that--that though he might bring on
to the carpet all the wit and all the information going, he rarely
uttered much beyond his own share of words. And now they talked of
pictures and politics--of the new gallery that was not to be built at
Charing Cross, and the great onslaught which was not to end in the
dismissal of Ministers. And then they got to books--to novels, new
poetry, magazines, essays, and reviews; and with the slightest touch
of pleasant sarcasm the judge passed sentence on the latest efforts
of his literary contemporaries. And thus at last they settled down on
a certain paper which had lately appeared in a certain Quarterly--a
paper on a grave subject, which had been much discussed--and the
judge on a sudden stayed his hand, and spared his raillery. "You have
not heard, I suppose, who wrote that?" said he. No; Madeline had not
heard. She would much like to know. When young people begin their
world of reading there is nothing so pleasant to them as knowing the
little secrets of literature; who wrote this and that, of which folk
are then talking;--who manages this periodical, and puts the salt and
pepper into those reviews. The judge always knew these events of the
inner literary world, and would communicate them freely to Madeline
as they walked. No; there was no longer the slightest touch of
hypocrisy in her pleasant manner and eager voice as she answered,
"No, papa, I have not heard. Was it Mr. So-and-so?" and she named an
ephemeral literary giant of the day. "No," said the judge, "it was
not So-and-so; but yet you might guess, as you know the gentleman."
Then the slight shade of hypocrisy came upon her again in a moment.
"She couldn't guess," she said; "she didn't know." But as she thus
spoke the tone of her voice was altered. "That article," said the
judge, "was written by Felix Graham. It is uncommonly clever, and yet
there are a great many people who abuse it."

And now all conversation was stopped. Poor Madeline, who had been so
ready with her questions, so eager with her answers, so communicative
and so inquiring, was stricken dumb on the instant. She had ceased
for some t