Still I know all is not yet gained. Yet surely very much _is_. And can ‘He so far have brought me’—? Not that that is a real argument, because if it fails we must suppose failure is right in one sense. Amusing how much personal power Mrs. A. attributes to me, ‘You’ve just turned them round your thumb,—I don’t believe there’s another woman could have done it,—_you_ are wholly exceptional, etc.’ I say ‘very complimentary, but I think not quite true.’ She thinks I’ve been ‘wonderfully clever,’ and when I object to the phrase, ‘have really shown wonderful _power_ and tact.’ I’m afraid one can’t help being a little pleased to think one’s own effort has done something,—and yet the other feeling lies deeper: ‘If Thou didst will, a mighty sword Out of my stem should grow.’ By the bye U. D. thinks my poem[53] the saddest in the book, ‘Poor child’ [she says] ‘_how_ sorry I am for you! Oh, if the atmosphere of Easter joy which is bright round me were only your’s too, ... Such an “only this,”—it would be better to be in the blackest night with the hope of stumbling into broad daylight some time or other. It is the sort of hopelessness of any more light to come that makes the poem so sad to me.’ I don’t agree. I think the ‘only this’ is just everything,—enough to live on and die on, though not enough (what is?) to prevent life being very hard and stony. It seems to me just the essence of the— ‘... strenuous souls for belief and prayer— Who stand in the dark on the lowest stair Affirming of God,—He is certainly there.’ And did even Christ keep that much always?— I believe Miss Cobbe is right,—in every Calvary there must be ‘darkness over the face of all the land’ for awhile. Well, indeed, if we can always keep a firm grip of— ‘Only this, that He knoweth the way that I tread, And His banner of crimson is over my head.’ And again,— ‘This only for solace,—God knoweth indeed Where the poverty galls,—of what things we have need.’ At 1.30 came Mrs. Evans with her clear good eyes and face. Much disposed at least to Botany. _How_ I hope she will!” Footnote 53: “Walking in Darkness.” Meanwhile S. J.-B. was undoubtedly the woman of the moment, and she had the satisfaction—by no means an unbroken one as life went on—of feeling herself a thoroughly popular person. She lunched with this dignitary and dined with that; some of the wives of the Professors offered to accompany her to the lectures if no other women came forward to join her; and some students whom she met at dinner told her they thought the students would be delighted that she should join the class.