“I shall very gladly give the matter my best attention, as I need not add that my literary association with you is a source both of pleasure and pride to me. At any rate I feel a pride and pleasure in publishing for an author who loves her work, and does it not primarily for money, but for fame, and because she can’t help the bubbling over of her rich imagination. When I get to London, one of my first visits will be to you. Real conversation is delightful and refreshing, and the idle talk of the ‘crushes’ is weariness of the flesh and death to the spirit. You, who aim at higher things, have an ideal; you who, thank God, believe this world to be a stepping-stone to one of immeasurable superiority, must often have asked yourself, after one of the great assemblies to which you went or where you received—Cui bono? Yes, if the weather keeps decent, I will with the greatest pleasure refresh my mind with some converse with you.”
Now occurs an interval of ten months, and then the manuscript of “Wormwood” evokes the following sentiments:
“August 5th, 1890.
“Dear Thelma,—Of the power in your latest work there can be no doubt. The interest commences immediately, and is on the increase throughout. The grip you have of the story is extraordinary, and will react upon the reader, ensuring success.”
“September 5th, 1890.
“The public, however, may forgive you for the extraordinary power of some of the scenes, which haunt me now, though it is a month since I read them.”
“October 9th, 1890.
“When you are on the eve of a remarkable success in the making or marring of which a few days can have no part, it is a little unreasonable that you should take so gloomy a view. I await with confidence the happier feeling which I feel certain is to succeed these darker moments, and am, as ever....”
“October 20th, 1890.