Thinking it over I came to the conclusion that Prudence was right in the general effect of the suggestion. What I needed was a change of scene. Long abstention from travel and variety of incident had made me restless and discontented. I had not been in Europe for two years. Undoubtedly I was pining for a lazy tour of the Continent. The thought decided me. I should book my passage on the steamer that sailed the Saturday of the following week.
Strangely enough, at this interesting moment, I received a letter from the chairman of the committee on public improvements in the village of Meadowvale, announcing that it had been resolved to procure new rooms for the village library, and would Mr. John Stanhope do his native village the honor of subscribing a small amount toward this desirable end. As it is always much easier for an indolent man to telegraph than to write letters, I replied by wire that Mr. Stanhope felt himself much honored by the request. Not entirely satisfied with this confession, I sent a second telegram an hour later doubling my subscription. Still my conscience troubled me.
"I have not done my duty," I said to myself. "Here I am, a man of means, I may say of large wealth, with no special obligations resting upon me, and yet I have done nothing to benefit or enrich my old home. It is strange that it has not occurred to me before what a privilege, what an honor, it is to be a philanthropist even in a small way, and with what alacrity those whom Heaven has blessed with a fortune should respond to the calls of deserving need. I blush for my past thoughtlessness, and I shall hasten to atone for my astonishing neglect. My duty lies before me, and I shall not shrink from it, whatever the personal inconvenience."
Thereupon I telegraphed for the third time to the chairman that it would give Mr. Stanhope the greatest pleasure to put up a suitable library for the village of Meadowvale, and, in order to guard against any possible misunderstanding, he would depart the following day to confer with the committee as to site and probable extent of the structure. This concession to my conscience comforted me greatly, and I prepared for my journey with a lightness that was almost buoyancy. The chairman and two of the committee met me at the junction. They were most deprecatory and apologetic, and mentioned with evident sorrow the absence of several of the members which might cause a postponement of the conference until the following day. I bore up under this intelligence with astonishing cheerfulness.
"My good friends," I said, "don't let this disturb you for a minute. I am not so pressed for time that I cannot wait on your reasonable convenience. Your tavern is well kept and the food is wholesome. I think I may say that my old friends in Meadowvale will interest me until we can come to an amicable understanding. Suppose, to be sure of a full meeting, that we fix the time of conference at day after to-morrow—a little late in the afternoon."
After this suggestion had been received with suitable expressions of gratitude, we journeyed together to the village, where I was duly turned over to old Pettigrew. And then, as the day was by no means done, I strolled down the street and, most naturally and quite unthinkingly, found myself a few minutes later looking over the Eastmann gate at Phyllis on the porch. To say that this charming girl was surprised by my sudden appearance was no less true than to admit that she did not seem in the least displeased. I positively had no intention of going in, but before I knew it I was sitting beside her, relating in the most casual way the reason of my coming.
"How good it was of you," said the ingenuous creature, "and how delighted and grateful Meadowvale will be. It must be glorious to be rich enough to do things for other people."
Now it is not a disagreeable sensation to feel that one is rich and good and glorious in the large gray eyes of a very pretty woman, and I was conscious of the mild intoxication from the compliment. "It is, indeed," I answered magnanimously. "I have always maintained that money is given to us in trust for those around us, and that in making others happy we find our greatest happiness. I regret that I have not wholly lived up to this undeniably correct principle."
"It will require at least a thousand dollars," she said naïvely.
"Oh, at least."