DOI article:
James, Henry: The death of the lion
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.20196#0057
By Henry James 51
my heart I was too füll of another wrong. In the event of his
death it would fall to me perhaps to bring out in some charming
form, with notes, with the tenderest editorial care, that precious
heritage of his written project. But whcre was that precious
heritage, and were both the author and the book to have been
snatched from us ? Lady Augusta wrote me that she had done
all she could and that poor Lord Dorimont, who had really been
worried to death, was extremely sorry. I couldn't have the matter
out with Mrs. Wimbush, for I didn't want to be taunted by her
with desiring to aggrandise myself by a public connection with
Mr. Paraday's sweepings. She had signified her willingness to
meet the expense of all advertising, as indeed she was always ready
to do. The last night of the horrible series, the night before
he died, I put my ear closer to his pillow.
"That thing I read you that morning, you know."
" In your garden—that dreadful day ? Yes ! "
" Won't it do as it is ?"
" It would have been a glorious book."
" It is a glorious book," Neil Paraday murmured. " Print it as
it Stands—beautifully."
"Beautifully !" I passionately promised.
It may be imagined whether, now that he has gone, the promise
seems to me less sacred. I am convinced that if such pages had
appeared in his lifetime the Abbey would hold him to-day. I
have kept the advertising in my own hands, but the manuscript
has not been recovered. It's impossible, and at any rate intoler-
able, to suppose it can have been wantonly destroyed. Perhaps
some chance blundering hand, some brutal ignorance has lighted
kitchen-fires with it. Every stupid and hideous accident haunts
my meditations. My undiscouragable search for the lost treasure
would make a long chapter. Fortunately I have a devoted
associate
my heart I was too füll of another wrong. In the event of his
death it would fall to me perhaps to bring out in some charming
form, with notes, with the tenderest editorial care, that precious
heritage of his written project. But whcre was that precious
heritage, and were both the author and the book to have been
snatched from us ? Lady Augusta wrote me that she had done
all she could and that poor Lord Dorimont, who had really been
worried to death, was extremely sorry. I couldn't have the matter
out with Mrs. Wimbush, for I didn't want to be taunted by her
with desiring to aggrandise myself by a public connection with
Mr. Paraday's sweepings. She had signified her willingness to
meet the expense of all advertising, as indeed she was always ready
to do. The last night of the horrible series, the night before
he died, I put my ear closer to his pillow.
"That thing I read you that morning, you know."
" In your garden—that dreadful day ? Yes ! "
" Won't it do as it is ?"
" It would have been a glorious book."
" It is a glorious book," Neil Paraday murmured. " Print it as
it Stands—beautifully."
"Beautifully !" I passionately promised.
It may be imagined whether, now that he has gone, the promise
seems to me less sacred. I am convinced that if such pages had
appeared in his lifetime the Abbey would hold him to-day. I
have kept the advertising in my own hands, but the manuscript
has not been recovered. It's impossible, and at any rate intoler-
able, to suppose it can have been wantonly destroyed. Perhaps
some chance blundering hand, some brutal ignorance has lighted
kitchen-fires with it. Every stupid and hideous accident haunts
my meditations. My undiscouragable search for the lost treasure
would make a long chapter. Fortunately I have a devoted
associate