e fate
of the play hung in the balance, Hubert's life was being rendered
unbearable by duns. They had found him out, one and all; to escape being
served was an impossibility; and now his table was covered with summonses
to appear at the County Court. This would not matter if the piece once took
the public taste. Then he would be able to pay every one, and have some
time to rest and think. And there seemed every prospect of its catching on.
Discussions regarding the morality of the play had arisen in the
newspapers, and the eternal question whether men and women are happier
married or unmarried had reached its height. Hubert spent the afternoon
addressing letters to the papers, striving to fan the flame of controversy.
Every evening he listened for Rose's footstep on the stairs.--How did the
piece go?--Was there a better house? Money or paper?--Have you seen the
notice in the ----?--First-rate, wasn't it?--That ought to do some
good.--I've heard there was a notice in the ----, but I haven't seen it.
Have you?--No; but So-and-so saw the paper, and said there was nothing in
it. And, do you know, I hear there's going to be a notice in _The Modern
Review_, and that So-and-so is writing it.

Every post brought newspapers; the room was filled with newspapers--all
kinds of newspapers--papers one has never heard of,--French papers, Welsh
papers, North of England papers, Scotch and Irish papers. Hubert read
columns about himself, anecdotes of all kinds,--where he was born, who were
his parents, and what first induced him to attempt writing for the stage;
his personal appearance, mode of life, the cut of his clothes; his
religious, moral, and political views. Had he been the plaintiff in an
action for criminal libel, greater industry in the collection and the
fabrication of personal details could hardly have been displayed.

But at these articles Hubert only glanced; he was interested in his piece,
not in himself, and when Annie brought up _The Modern Review_ he tore it
open, knowing he would find there criticism more fundamental, more
searching. But as he read, the expression of hope which his face wore
changed to one of pain pitiful to look upon. The article began with a
sketch of the general situation, and in a tone of commiseration, of
benevolent malice, the writer pointed out how inevitable it was that the
critics should have taken Mr. Price, when _Divorce_ was first produced, for
the new dramatic genius they were waiting for