nalogy to all physical processes. Fertility in life comes
of love; and in art the fervour of production is also accompanied by a
rapture and preceded by a passion of its own. When Beth was in a good
mood for work, it was like love--love without the lover; she felt all
the joy of love, with none of the disturbance. When the idea of
publication was first presented to her, it robbed her of this joy. As
she wrote, she thought more of what she might gain than of what she
was doing. Visions of success possessed her, and the ideas upon which
her attention should have been fully concentrated were thinned by
anticipations; and during that period her work was indifferent. Later,
however, she worked again for work's sake, loving it; and then she
advanced. She saw little of Dan in those days, and thought less; but
when they met, she was, as usual, gentle and tolerant, patiently
enduring his "cheeriness," and entering into no quarrel unless he
forced one upon her.

One bright frosty morning he came in rather earlier than usual and
found her writing in the dining-room.

"Well, I've had a rattling good ride this morning," he began, plunging
into his favourite topic as usual without any pretence of interest in
her or in her pursuits. "Nothing like riding for improving the
circulation! I wish to goodness I could keep another horse. It would
add to my income in the long run. But I'm so cursedly handicapped by
those bills. They keep me awake at night thinking of them."

Beth sucked the end of her pencil and looked out of the window,
wondering inwardly why he never tried to pay them.

"I calculate that they come to just three hundred pounds," he
proceeded, looking keenly at Beth as he spoke; but she remained
unmoved. "Don't you think," he ventured, "it would be a good thing to
expend that three hundred pounds your mother left you on the debts? I
know I could make money if I once got my head above water."

"That three hundred brings me in fifteen pounds a year," said Beth.
"It is well invested, and I promised my mother not to touch any of my
little capital. There is the interest, however, it arrived this
morning. You can have _that_ if you like."

"Well, that would be a crumb of comfort, at all events," he said,
pouncing on the lawyer's letter, which was lying beside Beth on the
table, and gloating on the cheque. "But don't you think, now that you
have the interest, it would be a good time to sell and get the
principal? Of course you