When he began to live with the dressmakers, Angela, desiring to find him some employment, had suggested that he should rewrite the whole of his book, and redraw the illustrations. It was not a large book, even though it was stuffed and padded with readings of inscriptions and tablets. An ordinary writer would have made a fair copy in a fortnight. But so careful an author as Daniel, so anxious to present his work perfect and unassailable, and so slow in the mere mechanical art of writing, wanted much more than a fortnight. His handwriting, like his Hebrew, had been acquired comparatively late in life; it was therefore rather ponderous, and he had never learned the art of writing half a word and leaving the other half to be guessed. Then there were the Hebrew words, which took a great deal of time to get right; and the equilateral triangles, which also caused a considerable amount of trouble. So that it was a good six weeks before Daniel was ready with a fair copy of his manuscript. He was almost as happy in making this transcript as he had been with the original document; perhaps more so, because he was now able to consider his great discovery as a whole, to regard it as an architect may regard his finished work, and to touch up, ornament, and improve his translations.
"It is quite complete," he repeated, laying the last page in its place and tapping the roll affectionately. "Here you will find the full account of the two tables of stone and a translation of their contents, with notes. What will they say to that, I wonder?"
"But how," asked Angela—"how did the tables of stone get to the British Museum?"
Mr. Fagg considered his reply for a while.
"There are two ways," he said, "and I don't know which is the right one. For either they were brought here when we, the descendants of Ephraim, as everybody knows, landed in England, or else they were brought here by Phœnician traders after the Captivity. However, there they are, as anybody may see with the help of my discovery. As for the scholars, how can they see anything? Wilful ignorance, miss, is their sin: pride and wilful ignorance. You're ignorant because you are a woman, and it is your nature too. But not to love darkness!"
"No, Mr. Fagg. I lament my ignorance."
"Then there's the story of David and Jonathan, and the history of Jezebel and her great wickedness, and the life and death of King Jehoshaphat, and a great deal more. Now read for the first time from the arrow-headed character—so called—by Daniel Fagg, self-taught scholar, once shoemaker in the colony of Victoria, discoverer of the Primitive Alphabet and the Universal Language."
"That is, indeed, a glorious thing to be able to say, Mr. Fagg."
"But now it is written, what next?"
"You mean how can you get it printed?"