there any check in their steadyapproach to a thorough knowledge of each other. He was a slightly olderman, with a greater experience of men, and a good deal wider range ofinterests, as could hardly fail to be the case with a Londoner. But thesurprising thing to both of them was that they had so many feelings incommon, giving rise to many judgments and preferences also in common; sothat Hector had now a companion in whom to find the sympathy necessaryto the ripening of his taste in such a delicate pursuit as that ofverse; and their proclivities being alike, they ran together like twodrops on a pane of glass; whence it came that at length, in theconfident expectation of understanding and sympathy, Hector foundhimself submitting to his friend's judgment the poem he had producedwhen first grown aware that he was in love with Annie Melville; althoughsuch was his sensitiveness in the matter of his own productions thathitherto he had not yet ventured on the experiment with Annie herself.
His new friend read, was delighted; read again, and spoke out hispleasure; and then first Hector knew the power of sympathy to double theconsciousness of one's own faculty. He took up again the work he hadlooked upon as finished, and went over it afresh with wider eyes, keenerjudgment, and clearer purpose; when the result was that, through thecriticisms passed upon it by his friend, and the reflection of the poemafresh in his own questioning mind, he found many things that had to bereconsidered; after which he committed the manuscript, carefully andvery legibly re-written, once more to his friend, who, having read ityet again, was more thoroughly pleased with it than before, and proposedto Hector to show it to another friend to whom the ear of a certainpublisher lay open. The favorable judgment of this second friend waspatiently listened to by the publisher, and his promise given that themanuscript should receive all proper attention.
On this part of my story there is no occasion to linger; for, strangething to tell,--strange, I mean, from the unlikelihood of itshappening,--the poem found the sympathetic spot in the heart of thepublisher, who had happily not delegated the task to his reader, butread it himself; and he made Hector the liberal offer to undertake allthe necessary expenses, giving him a fair share of resulting profits.
Stranger yet, the poem was so far a success that the whole edition, nota large one, was sold, with a result in money necessarily small but farfrom unsatisfactory to Hector. At the publisher's suggestion, this firstvolume was soon followed by another; and thus was Hector fairly launchedon the uncertain sea of a literary life; happy in this, that he was notentirely dependent on literature for his bodily sustenance, but was in aposition otherwise to earn at least his bread and cheese. For some timelonger he continued to have no experience of the killing necessity ofwriting for his daily bread, beneath which so many aspiring spirits sinkprematurely exhausted and withered; this was happily postponed, forthere are as much Providence and mercy in the orderly arrangement of ourtrials as in their inevitable arrival.
His reception by what is called the public was by no means so remarkableor triumphant as to give his well-wishers any ground for anxiety as toits possible moral effect upon him; but it was a great joy to him thathis father was much interested and delighted in the reception of thepoem by the Reviews in general. He was so much gratified, indeed, thathe immediately wrote to him stating his intention of supplementing hisincome by half as much more.
This reflected opinion of others wrought also to the mollifying of hismother's feelings toward him; but those with which she regarded Anniethey only served to indurate, as the more revealing the girl'sunworthiness of him. And although at first she regarded with favor herhusband's kind intention toward Hector, she faced entirely round when heshowed her a letter he had from his son thanking him for his generosity,and communicating his intention of begging Annie to come to him and bemarried at once.
Annie was living at home, feeding on Hector's letters, and strengthenedby her mother's sympathy. She was teaching regularly at the High School,and adding a little to their common income by giving a few musiclessons, as well as employing her needle in a certain kind of embroiderya good deal sought after, in which she excelled. She had heard nothingof his having begun to distinguish himself, neither had yet seen one ofthe reviews of his book, for no one had taken the trouble to show herany of them.
One day, however, as she stood waiting a moment for something she wantedin the principal bookshop of the town, a little old lady, rathershabbily dressed, came in, whom she heard say to the shopman, in agentle voice, and with the loveliest smile:
"Have you another copy of this new poem by your townsman, youngMacintosh?"
"I am sorry I have not, ma'am," answered the shopman; "but I can get youone by return of post."
"Do, if you please, and send it me at once. I am very glad to hear itpromises to be a great success. I am sure it quite deserves it. I havealready read it through twice. You may remember you got me a copy theother day. I cannot help thinking it an altogether remarkableproduction, especially for so young a man. He is quite young, Ibelieve?"
"Yes, ma'am--to have already published a book. But as to any wonderfulsuccess, there is so little sale for poetry nowadays. I believe the oneyou had yourself, my lady, is the only one we have been asked for."
"Much will depend," said the lady, "on whether it finds a channel of itsown soon enough. But get me another copy, anyhow--and as soon as youcan, please. I want to send it to my daughter. There is matter betweenthose Quaker-like boards that I have found nowhere else. I want mydaughter to have it, and I cannot part with my own copy," concluded theold lady, and with the words she walked out of the shop, leaving Anniebewildered, and with the strange feeling of a surprise, which yet shehad been expecting. For what else but such success could come to Hector?Had it not been drawing nearer and nearer all the time? And for a momentshe seemed again to stand, a much younger child than now, amid the gustywhirling of the dead leaves about her feet, once more on the point ofstooping to pick up what might prove a withered leaf, but was in realitya pound-note, the thing which had wrought her so much misery, and wasnow filling her cup of joy to the very brim. The book the old lady hadtalked of could be no other than Hector's book. No other than Hectorcould have written it. What a treasure there was in the world that shehad never seen! How big was it? what was it like? She was sure to knowit the moment her eyes fell upon it. But why had he never told her aboutit? He might have wanted to surprise her, but she was not the leastsurprised. She had known it all the time! He had never talked about whathe was writing, and still less would he talk of what he was going towrite. Intentions were not worthy of his beautiful mouth! Perhaps he didnot want her to read it yet. When he did, he would send her a copy. And,oh! when would her mother be able to read it? Was it a very dear book?There could be no thought of their buying it! Between them, she and hermother could not have shillings enough for that. When the right timecame, he would send it. Then it would be twice as much hers as if shehad bought it for herself.
The next day she met Mr. and Mrs. Macintosh, and the former actuallycongratulated her on what Hector had done and what people thought of himfor it; but the latter only gave a sniff. And the next post brought thebook itself, and with it a petition from Hector that she would fix theday to join him in London.
Annie made haste, therefore, to get ready the dress of white linen inwhich she meant to be married, and a lady, the sister of Hector'sfriend, meeting her in London, they were married the next day, and wenttogether to Hector's humble lodgings in a northern suburb.
Hector's new volume, larger somewhat, but made up of smaller poems, didnot attract the same amount of attention as the former, and the resultgave no encouragement to the publisher to make a third venture. Onereason possibly was that the subjects of most of the poems, even thegayest of them, were serious, and another may have been that the commontribe of reviewers, searching like other parasites, discovered in themmaterial for ridicule--which to them meant food, and as such they madeuse of it. At the same time he was not left without friends: certain ofhis readers, who saw what he meant and cared to understand it, continuedhis r
eaders; and his influence on such was slowly growing, while thosethat admired, feeling the power of his work, held by him the more whenthe scoffers at him grew insolent. Still, few copies were sold, andHector found it well that he had other work and was not altogetherdependent on his pen, which would have been simple starvation. And, fromthe first, Annie was most careful in her expenditure.
Among the simple people whom husband brought her to know, she speedilybecame a great favorite, and this circle widened more rapidly after shejoined it. For her simple truth, which even to Hector had occasionallyseemed some what overdriven, now revealed itself as the ground of hergrowing popularity. She welcomed all, was faithful to all, andsympathetic with all. Nor was it longer before her husband began tostudy her in order to understand her--and that the more that he couldfind in her neither plan nor system, nothing but