The morning broke clear, with all the pure tints of a fine opal
radiating in the cloudless sky. Never had I beheld such a fair scene as
the woods and gardens of Willowsmere when I looked upon them that day
illumined by the unclouded sunlight of a spring half-melting into
summer. My heart swelled with pride as I surveyed the beautiful domain I
now owned,--and thought how happy a home it would make when Sibyl,
matchless in her loveliness, shared with me its charm and luxury.
"Yes,"--I said half-aloud--"Say what philosophers will, the possession
of money does insure satisfaction and power. It is all very well to
talk about fame, but what is fame worth, if, like Carlyle, one is
too poor to enjoy it! Besides, literature no longer holds its former
high prestige,--there are too many in the field,--too many
newspaper-scribblers, all believing they are geniuses,--too many
ill-educated lady-paragraphists and 'new' women, who think they are as
gifted as Georges Sand or Mavis Clare. With Sibyl and Willowsmere, I
ought to be able to resign the idea of fame--literary fame--with a good
grace."
I knew I reasoned falsely with myself,--I knew that my hankering for a
place among the truly great of the world, was as strong as ever,--I knew
I craved for the intellectual distinction, force, and pride which make
the Thinker a terror and a power in the land, and which so sever a great
poet or great romancist from the commoner throng that even kings are
glad to do him or her honour,--but I would not allow my thoughts to
dwell on this rapidly vanishing point of unattainable desire. I settled
my mind to enjoy the luscious flavour of the immediate present, as a bee
settles in the cup of honey-flowers,--and, leaving my bedroom, I went
downstairs to breakfast with Lucio in the best and gayest of humours.
"Not a cloud on the day!" he said, meeting me with a smile, as I entered
the bright morning-room, whose windows opened on the lawn--"The fête
will be a brilliant success, Geoffrey."
"Thanks to you!" I answered--"Personally I am quite in the dark as to
your plans,--but I believe you can do nothing that is not well done."
"You honour me!" he said with a light laugh--"You credit me then with
better qualities than the Creator! For what He does, in the opinion of
the present generation, is exceedingly ill done! Men have taken to
grumbling at Him instead of praising Him,--and few have any patience
with or liking for His laws."