“But not of a human being. That must come, not from outward things being pleasant, but from inward things being right. Believe an old man, my dear, who has had some trials and disappointments in his life, the best sort of happiness is his—
“Whose high endeavours are an inward light
Which makes the path before him always bright.
“Those endeavours may not bring fame or success, but they do bring light to shine on all those everyday things you call dusty, and turn them to gold.”
Delia stood by her music-stand, her eyes fixed with a far-away gaze on the window, and a rebellious little frown on her brow.
“But I should love to be famous,” she suddenly exclaimed, reaching up her arms and clasping her hands behind her head. “Professor, I should love it! Fancy being able to play so as to speak to thousands of people, and make them hear what you say; to make them glad one moment and sorry the next; to have it in your power to move a whole crowd, as some musicians have! It must be a splendid life. Shouldn’t you like it?”
Mr Goodwin’s glance rested on his enthusiastic pupil with a little amusement.
“It’s rather late in the day for me to consider the question, isn’t it?” he said.
“Didn’t you ever want to go away from Dornton and play to people who understand what you mean,” asked Delia, impatiently. “Instead of playing the organ in Saint Mary’s and teaching me, you might be a famous musician in London, with crowds of people flocking to hear you.”
“Perhaps,” said the Professor, quietly; “who knows?”
“Then,” she continued, dropping her arms and turning to him with sudden determination, “then, oh, Professor, why didn’t you go?”