At present, if a member of a family has betaken himself to the high and honourable calling (for surely, it is both) of letters, his friends and relations are apt to talk about him in a shy and diffident, not to say apologetic, way; much as they would had he adopted another sort of book-making as a means of livelihood.
Thus it was that, notwithstanding her success, Augusta had nowhere to turn in her difficulty.

She had absolutely no literary connection.

Nobody had called upon her, and sought her out in consequence of her book.

One or two authors in London, and a few unknown people from different parts of the country and abroad, had written to her--that was all.

Had she lived in town it might have been different; but, unfortunately for her, she did not.
The more she thought, the less clear did her path become; until, at last, she got an inspiration.