Fennel and Rue | Page 5

she should not live to read it in the ordinary course. She was so
ignorant about writers that she did not know whether such a thing was
ever done, or could be done; but if he could tell her how the story was
to come out he would be doing more for her than anything else that
could be done for her on earth. She had read that sometimes authors
began to print their serial stories before they had written them to the
end, and he might not be sure of the end himself; but if he had finished
this story of his, and could let her see the last pages in print, she would
owe him the gratitude she could never express.
The letter was written in an educated hand, and there were no foibles of
form or excesses of fashion in the stationery to mar the character of

sincerity the simple wording conveyed. The postal address, with the
date, was fully given, and the name signed at the end was evidently
genuine.
Verrian himself had no question of the genuineness of the letter in any
respect; his mother, after her first misgivings, which were perhaps
sensations, thought as he did about it. She said the story dealt so
profoundly with the deepest things that it was no wonder a person,
standing like that girl between life and death, should wish to know how
the author solved its problem. Then she read the letter carefully over
again, and again Verrian read it, with an effect not different from that
which its first perusal had made with him. His faith in his work was so
great, so entire, that the notion of any other feeling about it was not
admissible.
"Of course," he said, with a sigh of satisfaction, "I must show the letter
to Armiger at once."
"Of course," his mother replied. "He is the editor, and you must not do
anything without his approval."
The faith in the writer of the letter, which was primary with him, was
secondary with her, but perhaps for that reason, she was all the more
firmly grounded in it.

II.
There was nothing to cloud the editor's judgment, when Verrian came
to him, except the fact that he was a poet as well as an editor. He read
in a silence as great as the author's the letter which Verrian submitted.
Then he remained pondering it for as long a space before he said, "That
is very touching."
Verrian jumped to his question. "Do you mean that we ought to send
her the proofs of the story?"
"No," the editor faltered, but even in this decision he did not deny the
author his sympathy. "You've touched bottom in that story, Verrian.
You may go higher, but you can never go deeper."
Verrian flushed a little. "Oh, thank you!"
"I'm not surprised the girl wants to know how you manage your
problem-- such a girl, standing in the shadow of the other world, which
is always eclipsing this, and seeing how you've caught its awful
outline."

Verrian made a grateful murmur at the praise. "That is what my mother
felt. Then you have no doubt of the good faith--"
"No," the editor returned, with the same quantity, if not the same
quality, of reluctance as before. "You see, it would be too daring."
"Then why not let her have the proofs?"
"The thing is so unprecedented--"
"Our doing it needn't form a precedent."
"No."
"And if you've no doubt of its being a true case--"
"We must prove that it is, or, rather, we must make her prove it. I quite
feel with you about it. If I were to act upon my own impulse, my own
convictions, I should send her the rest of the story and take the chances.
But she may be an enterprising journalist in disguise it's astonishing
what women will do when they take to newspaper work--and we have
no right to risk anything, for the magazine's sake, if not yours and mine.
Will you leave this letter with me?"
"I expected to leave the whole affair in your hands. Do you mind telling
me what you propose to do? Of course, it won't be anything--abrupt--"
"Oh no; and I don't mind telling you what has occurred to me. If this is
a true case, as you say, and I've no question but it is, the writer will be
on confidential terms with her pastor as well as her doctor and I
propose asking her to get him to certify, in any sort of general terms, to
her identity. I will treat the matter delicately--Or, if you prefer to write
to her yourself--"
"Oh no, it's much better for you to do it; you can do it authoritatively."
"Yes,