"Cras te victurum, cras dicis Postume semper
Dic mihi cras istud, Postume quando venit?
Quam longe cras istud, ubi est? aut unde petendum?
Cras istud quanti dic mihi, possit emi?
Cras vives? hodie jam vivere, Postume, serum est
Ille sapit, quisquis Postume, vixit heri."
MART. v. lviii.
| CHAPTER I | CHAPTER II | CHAPTER III | CHAPTER IV |
| CHAPTER V | CHAPTER VI | CHAPTER VII |
"REJECTED! rejected!"
I crushed the letter spasmodically in my hand as I walked mechanicallyup and down the length of the dining-room, a rage of anger filling mybrain and the blood thundering in my ears.
"Rejected! and that not for the first time. Another year and a half'swork flung away—simply flung away, and I am no nearer recognition thanever. Incredible it seems that they won't accept that."
I stopped under the gasalier and glanced again through the letter I hadjust received.
"DEAR SIR,—With reference to your last MS., we regret to say we cannotundertake its publication, owing to the open way in which you expressyour unusual religious views and your contempt for existinginstitutions.
"At the same time, our reader expresses his admiration for your style,and his regret that your unmistakably brilliant genius should bedirected towards unsatisfactory subjects.—We are," etc., etc.
The blood flowed hotly over my face, and my teeth closed hard upon mylip.
Always the same thing! rejection from every quarter.
The last clause in the letter, which might have brought some momentarygratification to a man less certain, less absolutely sure of his ownpowers than I was, could bring none to me.
It only served to make sharper the edge of my keen disappointment.Brilliant genius! I read the words with the shadow of a satirical smile.
What need to tell me that I possessed a power that inflamed every vein,that heated all the blood in my system, that filled, till they seemedbuoyant, every cell of my brain? As much need as to tell the expectantmother she has a life within her own.
I was tired of praise, tired of being called gifted, tired of hearingreiterated by others that which I knew so well myself.
We are invariably little grateful for anything freely and co