e week, drawn by some yearning for human
sympathy, Hardy would come nearly every evening to the studio; then they
would see no more of him for ten days or so. At times she felt that the
strain of it was greater than she could bear. She had learnt to manage
Vincent in his various moods, varying from humorous irascibility to
hysterical penitence; but when he was out of her sight her influence was
powerless. Now indeed she asked herself--

"Why am I wasting my precious time and making myself miserable in this
way? I've no sense of religion, and I don't love Vincent--he's simply a
nuisance. It must be sheer obstinacy."

It was with a feeling little short of despair that she sat down to the
pages of the Pioneer-book. She had determined at any cost to read the
manuscript through; but she soon became fascinated in spite of herself.
"Be tender to it, Sis, it's a part of myself," he had said when he
handed it over to her. She thought she had detected a gleam of interest
in his face, and felt that she was on the right tack. But Vincent's book
was more than a part of himself, it was a fair transcript of the whole.
His weakness and his strength were in it. She saw his vanity, his
exaggeration; but also his sincerity, his manliness, his simple delight
in simple things. Scenery on a large scale stirred a strain of rude
poetry in him this was akin to the first rhythmic utterances of man. To
be sure, the thing had its faults; for poor Vincent had been anxious
that his book should be recognised as the work of a scholar and a
gentleman. At times a spirit of unbridled quotation would seize him, and
you came upon familiar gems from the classics imbedded in the text. At
times, after some coarse but graphic touch, his style became suddenly
refined, almost to sickliness. When he was not pointing his moral with a
hatchet, he was adorning his tale with verbiage gathered from the worst
authors. But if Hardy the literary artist made her laugh till she cried
again, Hardy the unconscious child of Nature won her heart. If only she
could make him finish what he had begun!

She determined to illustrate the book: that might inflame Vincent's
ambition, and would certainly require his co-operation. So now, every
evening, in the spare time after supper, she set to work on the
drawings, aided by some photographs and rough sketches made by Hardy.
After a little stratagem she got him to come up and help her with
suggestions, or to sit for her while she ske