The evening passed pleasantly in chat and song; and when Nan rose to bid good-bye for the night, she said: ‘By-the-bye, Alfred, you had better give me your letter with the manuscript. I will see the postman as he passes in the morning, and hand it to him.’
‘Nonsense, Nan!’ he returned. ‘Why, the mail-gig passes before six o’clock. There’s no use in disturbing you so early. I will hand it to him myself.’
She was inexorable in her request, however, and ended the dispute by playfully seizing the letter, and tripping up-stairs before he could prevent her. Once in the privacy of her own room, a strange change came over her. With knitted brow and compressed lips, she slowly paced the apartment. Evidently, she was making up her mind on some important resolve. At last she clasped her hands and whispered to herself: ‘Yes; I’ll do it—but is it fair?’
She had a tired and drowsy look next day; and when Alfred asked if she had been in time to give the postman the all-important letter, she answered somewhat petulantly in the affirmative. After a time he took to walking to Glenluce daily to see if there were any letters for ‘Ariel.’ For ten days he came back empty-handed and dispirited; on the eleventh he bounced into Nan’s private parlour in a state of wild delight.
‘I knew it—I was sure of it, Nan!’ he cried, ‘that the moment my writings came before a competent judge they would be fully appreciated. Look! here is a bank draft for twenty pounds. It only took me ten days to write the sketch. Why, it is payment at the rate of six hundred a year!’
‘Was there a note with it?’ she asked quietly.
‘Yes; a precious short one, though. “The editor of the Olympic acknowledges receipt of Ariel’s manuscript, which he accepts, and begs to inclose bank draft for twenty pounds as an honorarium.” That is all.’
‘The editor has remunerated you very handsomely, I think,’ she said, continuing her sewing. ‘But mind that one swallow does not make a summer. Don’t be too sanguine. Other editors may not be so generous to you.’
‘Stuff!’ he replied loftily. ‘Do you mean to say he would have sent so much unless he knew he had got value, good value for it too? Do you know, Nan, I made up my mind, after getting the letter, to start for London to-morrow? I’ll call on the editor of the Olympic—perhaps he may’——
‘On no account must you do that, Alfred!’ she cried, dropping her sewing, and with a terrified look in her face. ‘Go to London, if you think proper; though I think you would be foolishly spending money in doing so. But you mustn’t call on the editor.’