left her in posthumous notes began to germinate. She identified herself
with both Corinna and her mother, and spent much time in meditating on
her mission in life. That nature had intended her to become a mother
and do her share in the propagation of the human race, she refused to
admit her mission was to explain to humanity what Madame de Stael's
Corinna had thought fifty years ago; but she imagined the thoughts were
her own, striving to find expression.

She began to write. One day she attempted verse. She succeeded. The
lines were of equal length and the last words rhymed. A great light
dawned on her: she was a poetess. One thing more remained: she wanted
ideas; well she could take them from _Corinna_.

In this way quite a number of poems originated.

But they had also to be bestowed on the world, and this could not be
done unless they were printed. One day she sent a poem entitled
_Sappho_ and signed _Corinna_ to the _Illustrated Newspaper_. With a
beating heart she went out to post the letter herself, and as it
dropped into the pillarbox, she prayed softly to "God."

A trying fortnight ensued. She ate nothing, hardly closed her eyes,
and spent her days in solitude.

When Saturday came and the paper was delivered, she trembled as if she
were fever-stricken, and when she found that her verses were neither
printed nor mentioned in "Letters to Correspondents," she almost broke
down.

On the following Saturday, when she could count on an answer with some