Amy laughed.
Doesnt that proceed from your fertile invention, Mr Milvain?
Not a bit of it! By-the-bye, what would be your natural question concerning her? Do you think she gave promise of good looks?
Im afraid I cant say that she did. She had a good face, butrather plain.
I see. Jasper threw back his head and seemed to contemplate an object in memory. Well, I shouldnt wonder if most people called her a trifle plain even now; and yetno, thats hardly possible, after all. She has no colour. Wears her hair short.
Short?
Oh, I dont mean the smooth, boyish hair with a partingnot the kind of hair that would be lank if it grew long. Curly all over. Looks uncommonly well, I assure you. She has a capital head. Odd girl; very odd girl! Quiet, thoughtfulnot very happy, Im afraid. Seems to think with dread of a return to books.
Indeed! But I had understood that she was a reader.
Reading enough for six people, probably. Perhaps her health is not very robust. Oh, I knew her by sight quite wellhad seen her at the Reading-room. Shes the kind of girl that gets into ones head, you knowsuggestive; much more in her than comes out until one knows her very well.
Well, I should hope so, remarked Amy, with a peculiar smile.
But thats by no means a matter of course. They didnt invite me to come and see them in London.
I suppose Marian mentioned your acquaintance with this branch of the family?
I think not. At all events, she promised me she wouldnt.
Amy looked at him inquiringly, in a puzzled way.
She promised you?
Voluntarily. We got rather sympathetic. Your uncleAlfred, I meanis a remarkable man; but I think he regarded me as a youth of no particular importance. Well, how do things go?
Amy shook her head.
No progress?
None whatever. He cant work; I begin to be afraid that he is really ill. He must go away before the fine weather is over. Do persuade him to-night! I wish you could have had a holiday with him.
Out of the question now, Im sorry to say. I must work savagely. But cant you all manage a fortnight somewhereHastings, Eastbourne?
It would be simply rash. One goes on saying, What does a pound or two matter?but it begins at length to matter a great deal.
I know, confound it all! Think how it would amuse some rich grocers son who pitches his half-sovereign to the waiter when he has dined himself into good humour! But I tell you what it is: you must really try to influence him towards practicality. Dont you think?
He paused, and Amy sat looking at her hands.
I have made an attempt, she said at length, in a distant undertone.
You really have?
Jasper leaned forward, his clasped hands hanging between his knees. He was scrutinising her face, and Amy, conscious of the too fixed regard, at length moved her head uneasily.
It seems very clear to me, she said, that a long book is out of the question for him at present. He writes so slowly, and is so fastidious. It would be a fatal thing to hurry through something weaker even than the last.
You think The Optimist weak? Jasper asked, half absently.
I dont think it worthy of Edwin; I dont see how anyone can.
I have wondered what your opinion was. Yes, he ought to try a new tack, I think.
Just then there came the sound of a latch-key opening the outer door. Jasper lay back in his chair and waited with a smile for his expected friends appearance; Amy made no movement.
Oh, there you are! said Reardon, presenting himself with the dazzled eyes of one who has been in darkness; he spoke in a voice of genial welcome, though it still had the note of depression. When did you get back?
Milvain began to recount what he had told in the first part of his conversation with Amy. As he did so, the latter withdrew, and was absent for five minutes; on reappearing she said:
Youll have some supper with us, Mr Milvain?
I think I will, please.
Shortly after, all repaired to the eating-room, where conversation had to be carried on in a low tone because of the proximity of the bedchamber in which lay the sleeping child. Jasper began to tell of certain things that had happened to him since his arrival in town.
It was a curious coincidencebut, by-the-bye, have you heard of what The Study has been doing?
I should rather think so, replied Reardon, his face lighting up. With no small satisfaction.
Delicious, isnt it? exclaimed his wife. I thought it too good to be true when Edwin heard of it from Mr Biffen.
All three laughed in subdued chorus. For the moment, Reardon became a new man in his exultation over the contradictory reviewers.
Oh, Biffen told you, did he? Well, continued Jasper, it was an odd thing, but when I reached my lodgings on Saturday evening there lay a note from Horace Barlow, inviting me to go and see him on Sunday afternoon out at Wimbledon, the special reason being that the editor of The Study would be there, and Barlow thought I might like to meet him. Now this letter gave me a fit of laughter; not only because of those precious reviews, but because Alfred Yule had been telling me all about this same editor, who rejoices in the name of Fadge. Your uncle, Mrs Reardon, declares that Fadge is the most malicious man in the literary profession; though thats saying such a very great dealwell, never mind! Of course I was delighted to go and meet Fadge. At Barlows I found the queerest collection of people, most of them women of the inkiest description. The great Fadge himself surprised me; I expected to see a gaunt, bilious man, and he was the rosiest and dumpiest little dandy you can imagine; a fellow of forty-five, I dare say, with thin yellow hair and blue eyes and a manner of extreme innocence. Fadge flattered me with confidential chat, and I discovered at length why Barlow had asked me to meet him; its Fadge that is going to edit Culpeppers new monthlyyouve heard about it?and he had actually thought it worth while to enlist me among contributors! Now, hows that for a piece of news?
The speaker looked from Reardon to Amy with a smile of vast significance.
I rejoice to hear it! said Reardon, fervently.
You see! you see! cried Jasper, forgetting all about the infant in the next room, all things come to the man who knows how to wait. But Im hanged if I expected a thing of this kind to come so soon! Why, Im a man of distinction! My doings have been noted; the admirable qualities of my style have drawn attention; Im looked upon as one of the coming men! Thanks, I confess, in some measure, to old Barlow; he seems to have amused himself with cracking me up to all and sundry. That last thing of mine in The West End has done me a vast amount of good, it seems. And Alfred Yule himself had noticed that paper in The Wayside. Thats how things work, you know; reputation comes with a burst, just when youre not looking for anything of the kind.
Whats the new magazine to be called? asked Amy.
Why, they propose The Current. Not bad, in a way; though you imagine a fellow saying Have you seen the current Current? At all events, the tone is to be up to date, and the articles are to be short; no padding, merum sal from cover to cover. What do you think I have undertaken to do, for a start? A paper consisting of sketches of typical readers of each of the principal daily and weekly papers. A deuced good idea, you knowmy own, of coursebut deucedly hard to carry out. I shall rise to the occasion, see if I dont. Ill rival Fadge himself in maliciousnessthough I must confess I discovered no particular malice in the fellows way of talking. The article shall make a sensation. Ill spend a whole month on it, and make it a perfect piece of satire.
Now thats the kind of thing that inspires me with awe and envy, said Reardon. I could no more write such a paper than an article on Fluxions.
Tis my vocation, Hal! You might think I hadnt experience enough, to begin with. But my intuition is so strong that I can make a little experience go an immense way. Most people would imagine I had been wasting my time these last few years, just sauntering about, reading nothing but periodicals, making acquaintance with loafers of every description. The truth is, I have been collecting ideas, and ideas that are convertible into coin of the realm, my boy; I have the special faculty of an extempore writer. Never in my life shall I do anything of solid literary value; I shall always despise the people I write for. But my path will be that of success. I have always said it, and now Im sure of it.
Does Fadge retire from The Study, then? inquired Reardon, when he had received this tirade with a friendly laugh.
Yes, he does. Was going to, it seems, in any case. Of course I heard nothing about the two reviews, and I was almost afraid to smile whilst Fadge was talking with me, lest I should betray my thought. Did you know anything about the fellow before?
Not I. Didnt know who edited The Study.
Nor I either. Remarkable what a number of illustrious obscure are going about. But I have still something else to tell you. Im going to set my sisters afloat in literature.
How!
Well, I dont see why they shouldnt try their hands at a little writing, instead of giving lessons, which doesnt suit them a bit. Last night, when I got back from Wimbledon, I went to look up Davies. Perhaps you dont remember my mentioning him; a fellow who was at Jolly and Monks, the publishers, up to a year ago. He edits a trade journal now, and I see very little of him. However, I found him at home, and had a long practical talk with him. I wanted to find out the state of the market as to such wares as Jolly and Monk dispose of. He gave me some very useful hints, and the result was that I went off this morning and saw Monk himselfno Jolly exists at present. Mr Monk, I began, in my blandest toneyou know itI am requested to call upon you by a lady who thinks of preparing a little volume to be called A Childs History of the English Parliament. Her idea is, thatand so on. Well, I got on admirably with Monk, especially when he learnt that I was to be connected with Culpeppers new venture; he smiled upon the project, and said he should be very glad to see a specimen chapter; if that pleased him, we could then discuss terms.
But has one of your sisters really begun such a book? inquired Amy.
Neither of them knows anything of the matter, but they are certainly capable of doing the kind of thing I have in mind, which will consist largely of anecdotes of prominent statesmen. I myself shall write the specimen chapter, and send it to the girls to show them what I propose. I shouldnt wonder if they make some fifty pounds out of it. The few books that will be necessary they can either get at a Wattleborough library, or I can send them.
Your energy is remarkable, all of a sudden, said Reardon.
Yes. The hour has come, I find. There is a tideto quote something that has the charm of freshness.
The supperwhich consisted of bread and butter, cheese, sardines, cocoawas now over, and Jasper, still enlarging on his recent experiences and future prospects, led the way back to the sitting-room. Not very long after this, Amy left the two friends to their pipes; she was anxious that her husband should discuss his affairs privately with Milvain, and give ear to the practical advice which she knew would be tendered him.
I hear that you are still stuck fast, began Jasper, when they had smoked awhile in silence.
Yes.
Getting rather serious, I should fear, isnt it?
Yes, repeated Reardon, in a low voice.
Come, come, old man, you cant go on in this way. Would it, or wouldnt it, be any use if you took a seaside holiday?
Not the least. I am incapable of holiday, if the opportunity were offered. Do something I must, or I shall fret myself into imbecility.
Very well. What is it to be?
I shall try to manufacture two volumes. They neednt run to more than about two hundred and seventy pages, and those well spaced out.
This is refreshing. This is practical. But look now: let it be something rather sensational. Couldnt we invent a good titlesomething to catch eye and ear? The title would suggest the story, you know.
Reardon laughed contemptuously, but the scorn was directed rather against himself than Milvain.
Lets try, he muttered.
Both appeared to exercise their minds on the problem for a few minutes. Then Jasper slapped his knee.
How would this do: The Weird Sisters? Devilish good, eh? Suggests all sorts of things, both to the vulgar and the educated. Nothing brutally clap-trap about it, you know.
Butwhat does it suggest to you?
Oh, witch-like, mysterious girls or women. Think it over.
There was another long silence. Reardons face was that of a man in blank misery.
I have been trying, he said at length, after an attempt to speak which was checked by a huskiness in his throat, to explain to myself how this state of things has come about. I almost think I can do so.
How?
That half-year abroad, and the extraordinary shock of happiness which followed at once upon it, have disturbed the balance of my nature. It was adjusted to circumstances of hardship, privation, struggle. A temperament like mine cant pass through such a violent change of conditions without being greatly affected; I have never since been the man I was before I left England. The stage I had then reached was the result of a slow and elaborate building up; I could look back and see the processes by which I had grown from the boy who was a mere bookworm to the man who had all but succeeded as a novelist. It was a perfectly natural, sober development. But in the last two years and a half I can distinguish no order. In living through it, I have imagined from time to time that my powers were coming to their ripest; but that was mere delusion. Intellectually, I have fallen back. The probability is that this wouldnt matter, if only I could live on in peace of mind; I should recover my equilibrium, and perhaps once more understand myself. But the due course of things is troubled by my poverty.
He spoke in a slow, meditative way, in a monotonous voice, and without raising his eyes from the ground.
I can understand, put in Jasper, that there may be philosophical truth in all this. All the same, its a great pity that you should occupy your mind with such thoughts.
A pityno! I must remain a reasoning creature. Disaster may end by driving me out of my wits, but till then I wont abandon my heritage of thought.
Let us have it out, then. You think it was a mistake to spend those months abroad?
A mistake from the practical point of view. That vast broadening of my horizon lost me the command of my literary resources. I lived in Italy and Greece as a student, concerned especially with the old civilisations; I read little but Greek and Latin. That brought me out of the track I had laboriously made for myself. I often thought with disgust of the kind of work I had been doing; my novels seemed vapid stuff, so wretchedly and shallowly modern. If I had had the means, I should have devoted myself to the life of a scholar. That, I quite believe, is my natural life; its only the influence of recent circumstances that has made me a writer of novels. A man who cant journalise, yet must earn his bread by literature, nowadays inevitably turns to fiction, as the Elizabethan men turned to the drama. Well, but I should have got back, I think, into the old line of work. It was my marriage that completed what the time abroad had begun.