In the course of two or three interviews, the raw surfaces of Melicent's susceptibilities were healed, her apprehensions lulled.
Fired through and through with professional enthusiasm, she gave herself heart and soul to the difficulties and the fascinations of her profession.
The glory of it! To see her Idea taking shape in material that should endure for ages! To see dreams and thoughts reduced to dimensions and proportions and traced upon the bosom of the ground in foundations that would be still young, years after their designer was dust!
The circumstances were exceptional. Her client gave her carte-blanche, and was to the full as enthusiastic as she. The spring was a glorious one. As the fruit trees in the old orchard of Lone Ash Farm burst into flower, the outline of Melicent's creation began to rise imperishable, on the hill-side.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE GATES OF SPRING ARE OPENED
"For rest of body perfect was the spot,
All that luxurious nature could desire;
But stirring to the spirit; who could gaze
And not feel motions there? ...
But the gates of Spring
Are opened; churlish winter hath given leave
That she should entertain for this one day,
Perhaps for many genial days to come,
Her guests, and make them welcome."
—WORDSWORTH (The Recluse).
There was a little ceremony when the foundation-stone of Lone Ash was laid.
Mr. Harland, lord of the manor of Clunbury, had an aged grandmother living in his house, who actually remembered Captain Brooke's grandfather, and the departure of the family to South Africa when the old place was sold up. This venerable dame, as forming so interesting a link with the past, was at the Squire's suggestion, asked to lay the stone; and on the first of May the ceremony was performed, before quite a concourse of spectators.
It was a fine opportunity for the county to show sympathy with the eligible owner by being present; and there was many a pretty girl who would have dearly liked to preside at future gatherings on the same spot.