New Grub Street

intances; the narrowness of her mother's means restricted the family to intercourse with a few old friends and such new ones as were content with teacup en

of his coming fame only - or principally - as it concerned their relations to each other; her pride in him was to be one phase of her love. Now she was well aware that no degree of dis

eat man; he would never even occupy a prominent place in the estimation of the public. The two things, Amy knew, might be as different as light and darkness; but in the gr

essful, and they must of course ask each other how the Reardons were going to live if the business of novel-writing proved unremunerative. Her pride took of

at she had devoted herself to a serious course of studies, that the care of house and child occupied all the time she could spare from her intellectual pursuits. The worst of it was, she had little faith in the efficacy of these fictions; in u

where Reardon had once earned his twenty shillings a week, but by voyaging in the seas of charitable enterprise he had come upon supplementary sources of income; for instance, he held the post of secretary to the Barclay Trust, a charity whose moderate funds were largely devoted to the support of gentlemen engaged in administering it. This young man, with his air of pleasing vivacity, had early ingratiated himself with the kind of people who were likely to be of use to him; he had his reward in the shape of offices w

y - he was again shut up in his study, dolorously at work - Amy was disturbed by the sound of

take care of Willie. Privacy, in the strict sense, was impossible, for the servant might listen at the door (one room led out of the other) to all the conversation that went on; yet Amy could not request her visitors to speak in a low tone. For the first year these difficulties had not been felt; Reardon made a point

an burst with laughter and animated talk into this abode of concealed poverty. Edith was not the kind of person with whom one can quarrel; she had a kind heart, and was never disagreeably pretentious. Had circumstances allowed it, Amy would have giv

ht that rose in her mind as Edith entered. 'I

glance in the direction of the study, as soo

he is

ed you might be out; an afternoon of sunshin

shine?' Amy i

at a comical person you are sometimes! I suppose you have

ell, th

t I se

you

admiration of this infant; it was so manifestly sincere that the mother could not but be moved to a grateful friendliness whenever she listened to its expres

from the passage opene

cried Edith. 'I should as soon h

ed Reardon, wi

ow yourself w

rter, but it wouldn't be true. I'm going out for an hour, so th

id Amy, with a

othing. I mu

husband was, and withdrew. The door o

y, then,' said Amy, agai

on tiptoe with what was partly make believe, partly genuine, awe, lo

le one has invented! Ever since I have known you and Mr Rea

ve

t the temptation. I feel sure you could writ

intention

em very well

I am as wel

nce more brought to a standstill,

at and implore you and Mr Reardon to dine with us next Wednesday.

way. Edwin can't pos

ening! It's such age

nk we shall ever be able to

sudden impulse. A minute ago, no such

Edith. 'But why? Wh

an impromptu as the announcement had been. 'You see, one must either belong to society or not. Marri

r - at all events for the present. I

with a face o

en see ME?' s

dship. Yet I am ashamed to ask you to come

it in that way! But it

e case with people in easy circumstances, she found it hard to believe that her friends were so

- we know each other well enough - you wouldn't think it necessary to devote an evening to entertaining us just because you had given us the

all have to be co

nk this is a WI

is

dy all sorts of people. How can Mr Reardon do this if he shuts himself up in the

be always like this. For the presen

for the sacrifice she had just imposed on herself. Edith sipped

next book be published

't know. Not be

ople I always turn the conversation to novels, just for t

ughed

I should think,' said Amy,

e a better kind of people; then, of course, I should hear of his books more often. But one has to make the be

k glance at the

therto. 'But don't ask us to come and dine just now. All through this winter we shall b

t how you can live such a life I don't know. I consider myself more of a reader than women generally are, and I should be morta

meant more than Edith could interpr

' She paused, smiling and musing. 'But then I haven't, you see.

n't wish h

ed. He likes society just as much as I do. It would be the death of h

ion. But then you count you

looks, and la

t then there's generally some amusement to be got, you know. I don't take life quite so seriously a

x who had lost his tail. Worst of all, perhaps Edith suspected the truth. She began t

d aright; the necessity of selling his books weighed upon him so that for the presen

t and ranged upon a table nearly a hundred volumes. With a few exceptions,

he inquired, putt

,' Reardon replied, with the helplessne

more than two

rate of sixpen

the average value

on had neither time nor spirit to test the possibilities of

e said, in a matt

n. He stowed them skilfully in two bags, and car

me was written, and there were often pencilled notes in the margin. Of course he had chosen from among the most valuable he possessed; such a multitude must else have been sold to make this sum of two pounds ten. Books are cheap, you know. At need, one can buy a Homer for fourpence, a Sophocles for sixp

hen the money is nearly at an end again, and you shall

ed until twelve o'cloc

the depressing influence of Sunday in London made work too difficult. Then, it was the

nyone this eveni

in, I dare say.

llie to mother's. I shal

y anything abo

, n

ask you when we think o

Workhouse. Amy tried to laugh, but a woman with a

them about our af

t's

'clock, the servant going w

e last stroke scarcely audible. Reardon laid down his book, but kept his pipe in his mouth, and went to the door. A tall, thin man stood

ments which hung upon this framework would perhaps have sold for three-and-sixpence at an old-clothes dealer's. But the man was superior to these accidents of flesh and raiment. He had a fine face: large, gentle eyes, nose slightly aquiline

little tobacco-stopper, and a box of matches, all of which he arranged carefully

p-coat off;'

not this

he deu

evening,

nary coat beneath the other. To have referred to this fact would have been in

phocles,' were the v

a volume of the Ox

the Wunder

gone,

on

a litt

in which remonstrance a

, this must do. Now, I want to know how y

nsidered, and began to read

f course; but treat them as Ionics a minore with

a technical lecture, he began to read in illustration, producing quite a different effect from that of

s if they lived in a world where the only hunger k

The novelist turned in astonishment; that any casual mortal should inquire for his books seemed incredible. Of course there was nothing by that author in the library, and he who had asked the question walked out again. On the morrow Reardon encountered this same man at a lonely part of the shore; he looked at him, and spoke a word or

ive a hope that by 'passing' this, that, or the other formal test they may open for themselves a new career. Not a few such persons nourish preposterous ambitions; there are warehouse clerks privately preparing (without any means or prospect of them) for a call to the Bar, drapers' assistants who 'go in' for the preliminary examination of the College of Surgeons, and untaught men innumerable who desire to procure enough show of

ek metres he fell upon the subject of his literary projects, and, by

s understood the possibility of such work, but his tendency to melodrama on the one hand, and his humour on the other, prevented him from thinking of it. An instance, now. As I came along by Regent's Park half an hour ago a man and a girl were walking close in front of me, love-making; I passed them slowly and heard a good deal of their talk - it was part of the situation that they should pay no heed to a stranger's proximity. Now, such a love-scene as that has absolutely never been written down; it was entirely decent, yet vulgar t

do it,' sa

psychological realist in the sphere of cultur

ecause my life has be

njured you; I am attracted by it. This divergence is very interesting; but for that, we should h

ppose

ical writing so often makes one melancholy. You know my stock instances of the kind of thing I mean. There was poor Allen, who lost the most valuable opportunity of his life because he hadn't a cle

t into a roa

ce. 'You take the conventional view. If you wrote of

ave issues in life depending on such paltry things is monstrously ludicrous. Life is a huge farce, and t

mour, but I prefer to treat these aspects of life from an impartial standpoint. The m

simply to say, Look, this is

'You will never sell work of this kind, yet you have t

I may perhaps s

ng down his pipe, 'suppose we eat a m

ow, in the depth of his poverty, he made no pretence of hospitable entertainment. It was only because he knew that Biffen as often as not had nothing whatever to eat that h

en, by-the-bye, it is in a shape that would be useless to the ordinary novelist; he would have to cut away this circumstance, and add that. Why? I should like to know. Such co

may surely exist such a th

t I first thought of you with interest. No, no; let us copy life. When the man and woman are to meet for a great scene of passion, let it all be frustrated by one or other of them having a bad cold in the head, and so on. Let the pretty

or. On opening he saw not only Amy and the servant, the latt

Jasper explained as he came

ffe

e'll discus

the evening. Gr

k Hea

room. It was half an hour before Amy joined them. Tobacco was no disturbance to her, and she enjoyed the kind of talk

ur overcoat, Mr Biffen?' were h

rdon. It happens to be mor

e from her husband warned he

fe, was miraculous in Biffen's eyes. A woman's love was to him the unattainable ideal; already thirty-five years old, he had no prospect of ever being rich enough to assure himself a daily dinner; marriage was wildly out of the que

ferential attitude as he listened and replied was in strong contrast with the careless ease which marked Jasper Milvain.

ntly. 'His novel is refused on all hands. He talks of earning

be positively refused,' said Reardon.

ns between two people. It is really a dialogue, not a novel at all. He rea

e merit,' put in Biffen. 'T

talk that leads to not

bit of r

like, so long as people are willing to read you. Whelpd

le I have heard of;'

ys strikes one as practical-minded.

rdon, seemingly lost in meditation, now and

husband and wife

exclaimed Amy, 'that Bi

awned

not the o

the warmer of the two; partly, perhaps

l die of starvatio

it not im

ave him somet

uch as he wanted. I don't think of him with so much

er lips a