For several days Brent gave himself up to aimless idleness. He admitted that he needed rest. He was tired from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. The unrelenting pressure of his task--a pressure that he had scarcely felt, so stimulating had been the attending excitement--was gone, and he yielded to the demand for rest which the reaction made upon brain and body. He reveled in the freedom from care and responsibility. The instincts and tastes which he had cultivated in his European wanderings reasserted themselves. He was half inclined to seal up his treasure-house and spend the winter amid the luxurious delights of Nice or southern Italy. He need be in no haste to execute any of the ideas which had occurred to him for the employment of some of his wealth. As a matter of fact he had made no plans, and no comprehensive scheme for the utilization of any considerable portion of his treasure had suggested itself to his mind. He had allowed various fancies to run riot in his imagination occasionally since the gold had come into his possession, but he had given little serious thought to the subject. The task in hand had been quite enough to absorb any man’s energies. Now, however, he sat himself down to consider the opportunities, the privileges, the responsibilities, the duties, which the situation thrust upon him. He faced the problem buoyantly, hopefully, and without anxiety. The facts with which he must deal were without precedent, to be sure, and of unparalleled importance to the people of his own country and to all Christendom. He was about to make the greatest contribution to the world’s wealth, as he regarded it, that humanity had ever received. Such a gift, if judiciously bestowed, could be naught but a blessing. There was no room for any sordid motive in deciding how to employ the bulk of his treasure. He could not conceive of any human ambition which money could gratify that would call for a tenth part of the treasure locked in his storehouse. His motives were honest and generous. He was willing, nay, desirous, to administer his wealth as a monster trust-fund for the benefit of all humanity. He reached this determination very early in his deliberations. Then he began to be puzzled a little. He realized that he could not put any considerable portion of his treasure to work in the financial or commercial world without its adding to itself an increment. To invest it, in the ordinary sense, in enterprises which “didn’t pay” would be serious folly. It would encourage bad business methods and those who least deserved it would profit by such a policy. And yet he did not feel justified in adding to his immense store by accumulations in the shape of interest or dividends. He could compel the whole industrial and commercial world to pay tribute to him with his billions. He had no desire to use such a power.