be
connected with Culpepper's 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 shouldn't 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 tide"—to quote
something that has the charm of freshness.'
The supper—which consisted of bread and butter, cheese,
sardines, cocoa—was 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, isn't it?'
'Yes,' repeated Reardon, in a low voice.
'Come, come, old man, you can't go on in this way. Would it, or
wouldn't 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 needn't 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. Couldn't we invent a good
title—something 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.
'Let's 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.'
'But—what does it suggest to you?'
'Oh, witch-like, mysterious girls or women. Think it over.'
There was another long silence. Reardon's 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 can't 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 wouldn't 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
connected with Culpepper's 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 shouldn't 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 tide"—to quote
something that has the charm of freshness.'
The supper—which consisted of bread and butter, cheese,
sardines, cocoa—was 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, isn't it?'
'Yes,' repeated Reardon, in a low voice.
'Come, come, old man, you can't go on in this way. Would it, or
wouldn't 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 needn't 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. Couldn't we invent a good
title—something 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.
'Let's 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.'
'But—what does it suggest to you?'
'Oh, witch-like, mysterious girls or women. Think it over.'
There was another long silence. Reardon's 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 can't 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 wouldn't 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
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