BOOK VI.
SUCCESS.
"May I reach
That purest heaven, be to other souls
The cup of strength in some great agony,
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love,
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty,
Be the sweet presence of a good diffused
And in diffusion ever more intense.
So shall I join the choir invisible
Whose gladness is the music of the world."
George Eliot.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
AT THE PRISON GATE.
Months had passed since Lettice had written a page of her story. The arrival of the Daltons at Florence had interrupted her at a critical point. She had not yet acquired the mechanic art of stopping and going on again as at the turn of a handle, in obedience to a law of demand and supply; and she would probably have been unable to gather up her threads and continue the old woof, even if she had made the effort. But she had not made the effort, and now that she was back in London again it seemed less possible than ever that she should sit down and make it.
This was a serious matter, for the book was to have been done to order. She had undertaken to furnish the whole of the manuscript by the middle of November, and now the time had come when she was obliged to admit that this was quite impracticable. She had hoped to put such a constraint upon herself at Birchmead as would have enabled her to fulfil her promise in the spirit, and to ask a fortnight's grace for the completion of the manuscript. But circumstances had prevented her from writing a single line, and she gave up the idea as hopeless.