ment of that
fresh-dawning ideal which shall bring life to literature and art and evoke
once more the golden destiny of man?

Well, this morning the particular Simon Magus who rules _The Gazette_
walked into my office and, after some preliminary sparring, came out with
a complaint which I knew had been preparing in his brain for some time. It
seems that he had already been deluged with letters about my heretical
attack on Miss Addams, and now a new storm had begun over my further
delinquencies. He kindly told me that my views were a hundred years behind
the age and that they were doing injury to the paper. Against the latter
charge I had no defence, and immediately capitulated. To cut a
disagreeable tale short, I anticipated his purpose and offered to make way
for some man who would better harmonise with the benevolent policy of the
paper. The first of the month comes in four days, and then I shall be
thrown once again on my own resources. The shock, though expected, is a
little disconcerting; for at times a man grows weary and discouraged in
fighting against the perpetual buffeting of the current. But most of all I
am wondering how my independence will affect the hopes that were beginning
to colour my dreams. Dear Jessica, you will not forsake me now; you will
put away your perversity and love me simply and unreservedly? There are
difficulties before me, I know; but I am not afraid if only my heart is at
peace. I am free, and if there is any power in my brain, any skill in my
right hand, I will make such a pother that the world shall hear me. I will
not die till I am heard. And so I ask you to help-me. With your love I
shall be made bold, and no opposition and no repeated reverses shall
trouble me. And in the end your happiness is in my making.

Indeed, your box of little things for Jack made Olympian merriment in
Newspaper Row, for several men were in my office when I opened it. Jack is
ten years old, small for his age, but quietly precocious. I cannot write
more of him now. Address your next letter not to the office but to----;
and when I open that letter will it bring me joy or grief? Your joy may
cast a ruddy light on my path, but nothing that you can say will shake me
in my firm resolve. No sorrow shall hinder me, but, oh, happy Heart! I,
too, long for happiness.

XXVIII

JESSICA TO PHILIP

KIND SIR:

Which do you think requires the more grace in a woman, to hold out against
a dear enemy or to yield