He said little; but the very next morning, in one of the
windows of our quiet sitting-room, often enough looking despairingly
at the grey monotony of Montague Street, he began at 'Page I,
Chapter I,' and so worked patiently on for many months to re-make as
far as he could what his drunken father had maliciously destroyed.
Beyond the unburnt paragraph about the attack on Mondisfield, he had
nothing except a few hastily scribbled ideas in his note-book, and
of course the very elaborate and careful historical notes which he
had made on the Civil War during many years of reading and research-
-for this period had always been a favourite study with him.
But, as any author will understand, the effort of re-writing was
immense, and this, combined with all the other troubles, tried
Derrick to the utmost. However, he toiled on, and I have always
thought that his resolute, unyielding conduct with regard to that
book proved what a man he was.
Chapter VIII.
"How oft Fate's sharpest blow shall leave thee strong,
With some re-risen ecstacy of song."
F.
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