He took advantage
to the utmost of the singular favour. Day by day I saw him sink,
and I roamed alone about the empty terraces and gardens. His wife
never came near him, but I scarcely noticed it: as I paced there
with rage in my heart I was too full of another wrong. In the
event of his death it would fall to me perhaps to bring out in some
charming form, with notes, with the tenderest editorial care, that
precious heritage of his written project. But where was that
precious heritage and were both the author and the book to have
been snatched from us? Lady Augusta wrote me that she had done all
she could and that poor Lord Dorimont, who had really been worried
to death, was extremely sorry. I couldn't have the matter out with
Mrs. Wimbush, for I didn't want to be taunted by her with desiring
to aggrandise myself by a public connexion with Mr. Paraday's
sweepings. She had signified her willingness to meet the expense
of all advertising, as indeed she was always ready to do. The last
night of the horrible series, the night before he died, I put my
ear closer to his pillow.
"That thing I read you that morning, you know."
"In your garden that dreadful day? Yes!"
"Won't it do as it is?"
"It would have been a glorious book.
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