Still "not at home," I was told; although, I knew they were in. I had
watched both Min and Mrs Clyde enter the house, shortly before my
second visit. I was evidently intentionally denied!
I went back to my own home. I spent another hour or two, walking up and
down my room in the same cheerful way in which I had passed the morning;
and then--_then_, I thought I would write to Mrs Clyde.
Yes, that would be the best course.
I sat down and penned the most vivid sketch of my present grief, asking
her to reconsider the former decision she had given against me. I was
certain, I said, that it was only through _her_ influence that Min had
rejected me; and I earnestly besought her good will. I was now in a
better position, I urged, than I had been the previous year, my income
being nearly doubled--thanks to Government and what I was able to reap
from my literary lucubrations:--what more could she require? Besides,
my assets would increase, at the least, by the ten pound bonus which a
grateful country annually aggregates to the salary of its victims each
year--not to speak of the fortune I might make by my "connection with
the press!" In fact, I said everything that I could, to colour my case
and get judgment recorded in my favour.
But, my toil was all in vain!
I sent over my letter by a servant, with instructions to leave it at the
door; while, I, waited in all the evening expecting an answer, in
breathless suspense.
None came; but, next morning I received back my own despatch enclosed in
another envelope, unopened, unread.
I went down to the office that day in quite a cheerful mood again, I can
tell you!
How I did enjoy Brown's balderdash; the witty sallies of Smith;
Robinson's repartees; Jones' jocosities!
When, after my official labours, I returned again to Saint Canon's that
evening, I made another attempt to see Mrs Clyde.
No. The servant who answered the door, when I timidly called for the
third time at the house, told me that instructions had been given to say
"not at home" always _to me_.
Pleasant!
War had been declared:--a "guerre a outrance," as I had anticipated;
but, it was a struggle in which I was stretched on the ground at my
adversary's mercy, with her vengeful blade at my heart!