But not in _my_ way. No man ever
wrote about it with such energy of hatred as I shall bring to the task."

Cecily was musing.

"It won't be a history in the ordinary sense," she said. "You will make
no pretence of historic calm and impartiality."

"Not I, indeed! My book shall be cited as a splendid example of _odium
antitheologicum_. There are passages of eloquence rolling in my mind!
And this is just the time for such a work. Throughout intellectual
England, Puritanism is dead; but we know how vigorously it survives
among the half-educated classes. My book shall declare the emancipation
of all the better minds and be a help to those who are struggling
upwards. It will be a demand, also, for a new literature, free from the
absurd restraints that Puritanism has put upon us. All the younger
writers will rally about me. It shall be a 'movement.' The name of my
book shall be a watchword."

They talked about it till one in the morning.

For several weeks Elgar was constantly at the Museum. He read
prodigiously; he brought home a great quantity of notes; every night
Cecily and he talked over his acquisitions, and excited themselves. But
the weather grew oppressively hot, and it was plain that they could not
carry out the project of remaining in town all through the autumn.
Already Reuben was languishing in his zeal, when little Clarence had a
sudden and alarming illness. As soon as possible, all went off to the
seaside.

Since his work had begun, Reuben's interest in the child had fallen
off. Its ailments were soon little more than an annoyance to him;
Cecily perceived this, and seldom spoke on the subject. The fact of the
sudden illness affording an opportunity for rest led him to express
more solicitude than he really felt, but when the child got back into
its normal state, Reuben was more plainly indifferent to it than ever.
He spoke impatiently if the mother's cares occupied her when he wished
for her society.

"A baby isn't a rational creature," he said once. "When he is old
enough to begin to be educated, that will be a different thing. At
present he is only a burden. Perhaps you think me an unfatherly brute?"

"No; I can understand you quite well. I should very often be impatient
myself if I had no servants to help me."

"What a horrible thought! Suppose, Ciss, we all of a sudden lost
everything, and we had to go and live in a garret, and I had to get
work as a clerk at five-and-twenty shillings a week. Ho