“I felt glad. I thought he looked very silly. I wondered if he had ever practiced before a looking-glass. O Leyland, I felt a great many scornful and unkind things; and I felt above all how right and proper my father’s judgment was—that men who condescend to amuse and especially to provoke laughter or buffoonery will never be the men who rule or lead other men. Even more strongly than this, I felt that the social reputation of being a fine singer would add no good thing to my business reputation.”
“You are right, Harry. It is not the song singers of England who are building factories and making railroads and who are seeking and finding out new ways to make steam their servant. Your father gave you excellent advice, my own feelings and experience warrant him.”
“My father is a wise, brave-hearted man,” said Harry proudly, and Katherine clasped his hand in sweet accord, as he said it.
That night Harry occupied his little room on the third floor in Leyland’s house and the happy sleeping place was full of dreams of Katherine. He awakened from them as we do from fortunate dreams, buoyant with courage and hope, and sure of love’s and life’s final victory and happiness:
Then it does not seem miles,
Out to the emerald isles,
Set in the shining smiles,
Of Love’s blue sea.
Happy are the good sleepers and dreamers I Say that they spend nearly a third part of their lives in sleep, their sleeping hours are not dead hours. Their intellects are awake, their unconscious self is busy. In reality we always dream, but many do not remember their dreams any more than they remember the thoughts that have passed through their minds during the day. Real dreams are rare. They come of design. They are never forgotten. They are always helpful because the incompleteness of this life asks for a larger theory than the material needs—
A deep below the deep,