"Yes, it is a vision, and a 'vision splendid,'" assented Newman, "but—since I have used the phrase—you know how Mr. Wordsworth continues, how—
'At length the man perceives it die away
And fade into the light of common day.'"
"It has not really faded; it cannot fade. It is our eyes that have forgotten how to look at it. No," went on Dormer with a sudden smile, "I would rather think that the vision seems to have faded because its guardians have shrouded it up, and then gone to sleep."
"You think, then," said Newman, with an answering smile, "that it is for us to wake them up?"
"Yes," confessed his friend, "or, if that is impossible, to break through ourselves and unveil the vision."
"Sometimes you remind me of Froude," said Newman musingly, "except that he has more of the schoolboy about him.... I think you have the real light, and I only a glimmer that comes and goes, and gives me just enough guidance for the day's journey and no more.... But as to these slumbering guardians," he continued, rousing himself from his own reflections, "have you ever thought any more about that idea of yours, the publishing something in a cheap short form—a sort of tracts—to stir people up?"
"No," said Dormer, "I made a present of it to you. In fact I have been wondering if you had thought of it again. It's not in my line, you know."
"My dear fellow, what nonsense! Yes, it did occur to me the other day how it would be exactly the kind of thing that a group of friends like ourselves might manage very well—sharpshooting, as it were. I will talk seriously of it to Froude when we meet. I have another scheme, however, that is more feasible at present. Now that Rose has started the 'British Magazine' I thought we might have a poetical section in it to rouse people to realise that there is a crisis. I am going to look for recruits. We will get Keble to write for it, of course, and you and I, and Isaac Williams, and I shall enlist Rogers if I can—and what about your friend Hungerford?"
"Tristram may have his faults," said Dormer, laughing, "but of the crime of writing verses he is, so far as I know, absolutely guiltless."
"Oh, anybody can write verses," pronounced Newman cheerfully, taking up his violin.