Chapter CXCIII: Section 3: As the result of such extravagances, when they had got as

far as the month of February, Thyrsis’ bank-account had sunk to almost nothing. However, he had been getting ready for this emergency; he had prepared a _scenario_ of his new book, setting forth the ideas it would contain and the form which it would take. This he sent to his publisher, with a letter saying that he wanted the same contract and the same advance as before.

And again he waited in breathless suspense. He knew that he had here a work of vital import, one that would be certain to make a sensation, even if it did not sell like a novel. It was, to be sure, a radical book--perhaps the most radical ever published in America; but on the other hand, it dealt with questions of literature and philosophy, where occasionally even respectable and conservative reviews permitted themselves to dally with ideas. Thyrsis was hoping that the publisher might see prestige and publicity in the adventure, and decide to take a chance; when this proved to be the case, he sank back with a vast sigh of relief. He had now money enough to last until midsummer, and by that time the book would be more than half done--and also the farm would be paying.

But alas, it seemed with them that strokes of calamity always followed upon strokes of good fortune. At this time Corydon’s ailments became acute, and her nervous crises were no longer to be borne. There were anxious consultations on the subject, and finally it was decided that she should consult another “specialist”. This was an uncle of Mr. Harding’s, a man of most unusual character, the clergyman declared; the latter was going to the city, and would be glad to introduce Corydon.

So, a couple of days later came to Thyrsis a letter, conveying the tidings that she was discovered to be suffering from an abdominal tumor, and should undergo an immediate operation. It would cost a hundred dollars, and the hospital expenses would be at least as much; which meant that, with the bill-paying that had already taken place, their money would all be gone at the outset!

But Thyrsis did not waste any time in lamenting the inevitable. He was rather glad of the tidings, on the whole--at least there was a definite cause for Corydon’s suffering, and a prospect of an end to it. Both of them had still their touching faith in doctors and surgeons, as speaking with final and godlike authority upon matters beyond the comprehension of the ordinary mind. The operation would not be dangerous, Corydon wrote, and it would make a new woman of her.

“If I could only have Delia Gordon with me,” she added, “then my happiness would be complete. Only think of it, she left for Africa last week! I know she would have waited, if she’d known about this.

“However, I shall make out. Mr. Harding is going to be in town for more than a week--he is attending a conference of some sort, and he has promised to come and see me in the hospital. I think he likes to do such things--he has the queerest professional air about it, so that you feel you are being sympathized with for the glory of God. But really he is very beautiful and good, and I think you have never appreciated him. I am happy to-day, almost exhilarated; I feel as if I were about to escape from a dungeon.”