"
It could not be recalled afterwards how, from this harmless exchange,
they had come to be listening to passages from the adventurous life of
Childe Harold, read crisply by their hostess. Still less could the
ladies later comprehend how some of their number had been guilty of
innuendos--or worse--against the well-known Bard of Avon. Yet, so it
was.
Miss Caroline herself had refrained from abusing him--had seemed to have
forgotten him, indeed; but, as she read Byron to them, their hearts
opened to her--rushed out, indeed, with a friendly wholeness that
demanded something more than mere cordial applause of her favorite poet.
Some intimation of a sympathy with her view of the other poet came to
seem not ungraceful. During one of the reader's pauses to impress upon
them the splendors of the Byronic imagery, and eke its human
heart-warmth, good Aunt Delia, with defiant looks about the circle,
broke in with:--
"I shouldn't wonder if Shakspere _has_ been made too much over."
Mrs. Keyts stepped loyally into the breach thus effected.
"Westley thinks Shakspere isn't such an _awful_ good book," she said,
feeling her way, "though it seems to me it has some very interesting and
excellent pieces in it.
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