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The householder； who bad been watching for the gentleman's return；
met them in the passage； and showed the rooms。 She informed them
that she was a professional man's widow； left in needy circumstances
by the rather sudden death of her husband； and she spoke anxiously
of the conveniences of the establishment。
Mrs。 Marchmill said that she liked the situation and the house； but；
it being small； there would not be accommodation enough； unless she
could have all the rooms。
The landlady mused with an air of disappointment。 She wanted the
visitors to be her tenants very badly； she said； with obvious
honesty。 But unfortunately two of the rooms were occupied
permanently by a bachelor gentleman。 He did not pay season prices；
it was true； but as he kept on his apartments all the year round；
and was an extremely nice and interesting young man； who gave no
trouble； she did not like to turn him out for a month's 'let；' even
at a high figure。 'Perhaps； however；' she added； 'he might offer to
go for a time。'
They would not hear of this； and went back to the hotel； intending
to proceed to the agent's to inquire further。 Hardly had they sat
down to tea when the landlady called。 Her gentleman； she said； had
been so obliging as to offer to give up his rooms for three or four
weeks rather than drive the new…comers away。
'It is very kind； but we won't inconvenience him in that way；' said
the Marchmills。
'O； it won't inconvenience him； I assure you！' said the landlady
eloquently。 'You see； he's a different sort of young man from most…
…dreamy； solitary； rather melancholyand he cares more to be here
when the south…westerly gales are beating against the door； and the
sea washes over the Parade； and there's not a soul in the place；
than he does now in the season。 He'd just as soon be where； in
fact； he's going temporarily； to a little cottage on the Island
opposite； for a change。' She hoped therefore that they would come。
The Marchmill family accordingly took possession of the house next
day； and it seemed to suit them very well。 After luncheon Mr。
Marchmill strolled out towards the pier； and Mrs。 Marchmill； having
despatched the children to their outdoor amusements on the sands；
settled herself in more completely； examining this and that article；
and testing the reflecting powers of the mirror in the wardrobe
door。
In the small back sitting…room； which had been the young bachelor's；
she found furniture of a more personal nature than in the rest。
Shabby books； of correct rather than rare editions； were piled up in
a queerly reserved manner in corners； as if the previous occupant
had not conceived the possibility that any incoming person of the
season's bringing could care to look inside them。 The landlady
hovered on the threshold to rectify anything that Mrs。 Marchmill
might not find to her satisfaction。
'I'll make this my own little room；' said the latter； 'because the
books are here。 By the way； the person who has left seems to have a
good many。 He won't mind my reading some of them； Mrs。 Hooper； I
hope？'
'O dear no； ma'am。 Yes； he has a good many。 You see； he is in the
literary line himself somewhat。 He is a poetyes； really a poet
and he has a little income of his own； which is enough to write
verses on； but not enough for cutting a figure； even if he cared
to。'
'A poet！ O； I did not know that。'
Mrs。 Marchmill opened one of the books； and saw the owner's name
written on the title…page。 'Dear me！' she continued； 'I know his
name very wellRobert Treweof course I do； and his writings！ And
it is HIS rooms we have taken； and HIM we have turned out of his
home？'
Ella Marchmill； sitting down alone a few minutes later； thought with
interested surprise of Robert Trewe。 Her own latter history will
best explain that interest。 Herself the only daughter of a
struggling man of letters； she had during the last year or two taken
to writing poems； in an endeavour to find a congenial channel in
which to let flow her painfully embayed emotions； whose former
limpidity and sparkle seemed departing in the stagnation caused by
the routine of a practical household and the gloom of bearing
children to a commonplace father。 These poems； subscribed with a
masculine pseudonym； had appeared in various obscure magazines； and
in two cases in rather prominent ones。 In the second of the latter
the page which bore her effusion at the bottom； in smallish print；
bore at the top； in large print； a few verses on the same subject by
this very man； Robert Trewe。 Both of them had； in fact； been struck
by a tragic incident reported in the daily papers； and had used it
simultaneously as an inspiration； the editor remarking in a note
upon the coincidence； and that the excellence of both poems prompted
him to give them together。
After that event Ella； otherwise 'John Ivy；' had watched with much
attention the appearance anywhere in print of verse bearing the
signature of Robert Trewe； who； with a man's unsusceptibility on the
question of sex； had never once thought of passing himself off as a
woman。 To be sure； Mrs。 Marchmill had satisfied herself with a sort
of reason for doing the contrary in her case； that nobody might
believe in her inspiration if they found that the sentiments came
from a pushing tradesman's wife； from the mother of three children
by a matter…of…fact small…arms manufacturer。
Trewe's verse contrasted with that of the rank and file of recent
minor poets in being impassioned rather than ingenious； luxuriant
rather than finished。 Neither symboliste nor decadent； he was a
pessimist in so far as that character applies to a man who looks at
the worst contingencies as well as the best in the human condition。
Being little attracted by excellences of form and rhythm apart from
content； he sometimes； when feeling outran his artistic speed；
perpetrated sonnets in the loosely rhymed Elizabethan fashion； which
every right…minded reviewer said he ought not to have done。
With sad and hopeless envy； Ella Marchmill had often and often
scanned the rival poet's work； so much stronger as it always was
than her own feeble lines。 She had imitated him； and her inability
to touch his level would send her into fits of despondency。 Months
passed away thus； till she observed from the publishers' list that
Trewe had collected his fugitive pieces into a volume； which was
duly issued； and was much or little praised according to chance； and
had a sale quite sufficient to pay for the printing。
This step onward had suggested to John Ivy the idea of collecting
her pieces also； or at any rate of making up a book of her rhymes by
adding many in manuscript to the few that had seen the light； for
she had been able to get no great number into print。 A ruinous
charge was made for costs of publication； a few reviews noticed her
poor little volume； but nobody talked of it； nobody bought it； and
it fell dead in a fortnightif it had ever been alive。
The author's thoughts were diverted to another groove just then by
the discovery that she was going to have a third child； and the
collapse of her poetical venture had perhaps less effect upon her
mind than it might have done if she had been domestically
unoccupied。 Her husband had paid the publisher's bill with the
doctor's； and there it all had ended for the time。 But； though less
than a poet of her century； Ella was more than a mere multiplier of
her kind； and latterly she had begun to feel the old afflatus once
more。 And now by an odd conjunction she found herself in the rooms
of Robert Trewe。
She thoughtfully rose from her chair and searched the apartment with
the interest of a fellow…tradesman。 Yes； the volume of his own
verse was among the rest。 Though quite familiar with its contents；
she read it here as if it spoke aloud to her； then called up Mrs。
Hooper； the landlady； for some trivial service； and inquired again
about the young man。
'Well； I'm sure you'd be interested in him； ma'am； if you could see
him； only he's so shy that I don't suppose you will。' Mrs。 Hooper
seemed nothing loth to minister to her tenant's curiosity about her
predecessor。 'Lived here long？ Yes