第36部分(第2/7 頁)

　Inn；　I　wrote　nearly　two　hundred　thousand　words。　Nowadays　the　average　length　of　a　novel　may　be　put　at　seventy…five　thousand　words；　or　even　less；　though　mine　are　longer。　But　in　the　early　eighties；　when　stories　were　brought　out　in　three　volumes　and　readers　had　more　patience　than　at　present；　it　was　otherwise。　I　toiled　at　that　book　morning；　noon；　and　night；　with　the　result　that　at　length　my　eyesight　gave　out；　and　I　was　obliged　to　finish　the　writing　of　it　in　a　darkened　room。

Still　I　did　finish　it　notwithstanding　the　pain　in　my　eyes；　and　then　went　to　London　to　see　an　oculist。　To　my　relief　he　told　me　I　was　not　going　blind　as　I　feared；　but　that　the　trouble　came　from　the　brain　which　was　overworked。　He　ordered　me　plete　rest　and　change；　during　which　I　was　not　to　read　anything。　So　we　went　for　a　month　to　Switzerland；　where　we　took　lodgings。　The　only　occupation　that　I　had　there　was　to　walk；　or；　when　this　was　not　feasible；　like　a　child　to　throw　a　ball　against　the　wall　of　the　room　and　see　how　often　I　could　catch　it　on　the　rebound。　However；　the　treatment　proved　effective。

The　book　being　finished；　or　nearly　finished；　and　the　heroine；　Angela；　rescued　from　the　untimely　death　to　which　she　was　consigned　in　the　first　version　and　happily　married　to　her　lover；　once　more　I　sought　the　assistance　of　Cordy　Jeaffreson；　who　gave　me　a　letter　introducing　me　to　Mr。　Arthur　Blackett　of　the　firm　of　Messrs。　Hurst　and　Blackett。　It　runs：

Dear　Blackett；　—　Some　months　since　I　read　the　MS。　of　a　novel　of　which　the　bearer　of　these　presents；　Mr。　Rider　Haggard　of　Ditchingham　House；　Bungay；　is　looking　for　a　publisher。　Mr。　Haggard　having　distinguished　himself　in　another　field　of　literature；　I　was　not　surprised　to　find　his　first　essay　in　prose　fiction　a　thing　of　no　ordinary　power。　It　was　a　tale　of