So long and cruel they were, though the white fattish hands were not cruel but gentle. There was to be no gray prose, it appeared, and no long grind; so how could work not be charming that presented itself as daily beauty? It was all the romance of the nursery and the poetry of the schoolroom. Beyond that I only look to the gracious protection of the Divine Being whose strengthening support I humbly solicit, and whom I fervently pra y to look down upon us all. I find that I really hang back; but I must take my plunge.