"What have you been doing since I saw you last?" asked Philippa presently.
"I have not been entirely idle. I have managed to get through quite a respectable quantity of work."
"Another book?" asked the girl with interest.
Isabella nodded.
"Will it be quite as sad as the last?"
"No, I hardly think it will," she answered with a laugh. "I don't know the reason though. I half think that the fact of knowing you has put me in lighter vein. Talk about it not being good for a man to be alone; I have come to the conclusion that it is ten times worse for a woman. What a sentiment to come from me! For it is not long ago that I was earnestly seeking a crack in the earth's surface which should be just large enough to hold me, to the exclusion of every one else. It must be your magic that has made this great change. Yes, the book is creeping on, and some of it will stand, I think."
"Are you satisfied with it?"
"Not at all," was the frank answer. "There is nothing so disappointing in the world as one's own writing; and yet one goes on. And so far as I am concerned I can only say that every time I write "Chapter I" on a new sheet of paper, I am full of conviction that this time at last I shall scale the height of my ambition, and that the child of my brain will be born to live. Not to have a few months or years of cheap notoriety, but to live a life of much more than that--to make some lasting impression on the hearts of the readers, and to have a healing touch which will comfort when those hearts are sick and sore."
"If that is your ambition I think you have gained it," said Philippa warmly. "You do not know your own power and you underrate your work."
"Do I? I wonder. I have attained something, perhaps, but attaining is not achieving--that is where people make the mistake. Perhaps I attempt the impossible. It may be that I have shot at the highest and hit mediocrity. I think that is more likely."
"I think you do not know the fame of Ian Verity," said Philippa.
"Oh, I don't thank you for personal fame. I would prefer something less showy but of far more value. But as a matter of fact, what I should choose had got very little to do with it."