The whole thing took indeed more nights than one, but on the first occasion
the same lady put another question. "What is your title?"
"I haven't one."
"Oh, _I_ have!" I said. But Douglas, without heeding me,
had begun to read with a fine clearness that was like a rendering
to the ear of the beauty of his author's hand.
I
I remember the whole beginning as a succession of flights and drops,
a little seesaw of the right throbs and the wrong. After rising, in town,
to meet his appeal, I had at all events a couple of very bad days--
found myself doubtful again, felt indeed sure I had made a mistake.
In this state of mind I spent the long hours of bumping,
swinging coach that carried me to the stopping place at which I
was to be met by a vehicle from the house. This convenience,
I was told, had been ordered, and I found, toward the close
of the June afternoon, a commodious fly in waiting for me.
Driving at that hour, on a lovely day, through a country to which
the summer sweetness seemed to offer me a friendly welcome,
my fortitude mounted afresh and, as we turned into the avenue,
encountered a reprieve that was probably but a proof of the point
to which it had sunk. I suppose I had expected, or had dreaded,
something so melancholy that what greeted me was a good surprise.
I remember as a most pleasant impression the broad, clear front,
its open windows and fresh curtains and the pair of maids
looking out; I remember the lawn and the bright flowers and
the crunch of my wheels on the gravel and the clustered treetops
over which the rooks circled and cawed in the golden sky.
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