Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 96 of 400
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ee oes Th Cr), Y. AUGUST, 18835. THE MYSTERY OF ALLAN GRALE. * * reer? BeR: “Maeve hb. WALKING TO THE COURT. ip eRe was one household in Dering whose monotony, through those quiet months of Spring, was that of happy domesticity and enthusiastic labour. ‘That household was Dr. Palmer’s. Charles Carr had not yet succeeded in perfecting the invention which had occupied so much of his time and thoughts since he left Mr. Grale’s. His attention had several times been called off to other kinds of work whose success was definite and their reward sure; and though Dr. Palmer was always the first to encourage him in his more ambitious attempts, he was also the last to discourage him in the plain common-sense view of the practical needs of life. ‘‘ Genius—ima- ginative, creative, or inventive—will keep,” reflected the Doctor. Lettice was not quite so sure of this. ‘ Hard, practical work may spoil one for other things,” she pleaded. ‘If a man worked in a counting-house or a carpenter’s shop, he would be fit for little bv’ rest when he had finished his day’s labour. His imagination woul: be too faint to soar.” | “Facts are against you,” said Charles Carr. ‘‘ Shakespeare owned and managed a theatre; Burns held a plough; Spinoza made spec- tacles. A man cannot help his fellow-creatures unless he knows exactly how they stand, by standing even with them. Why, Lettice, it is the intimate knowledge I got of Mr. Grale’s machinery when I was writing in his counting-house, that started me on the quest which is to make my fortune some day! Make my fortune! It is a great leap, Lettice. Do you wonder that I hesitate before I finally gather myself up to pursue it?” } Lettice saw nothing. There was a conscious look on her sweet face. Agnes laughed and lilted : ‘“ He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small Who dares not put it to the touch To gain or lose it all,”’ VOL. XL. Wa COMiICcoooKks (A) (CO)