The sunset-glory began to fade from the landscape as the little boat glided on over the tranquil water, and a great shadow was on my mind, like the shadow of that outer darkness which would soon be night. Again I asked myself--Was there no happiness possible in all the world? Just then the Angelus chimed from a little chapel on the shore, and as it rang, a memory stirred in my brain moving me well-nigh to tears. Mavis Clare was happy!--Mavis, with her frank fearless eyes, sweet face and bright nature,--Mavis, wearing her crown of Fame as simply as a child might wear a wreath of may-blossom,--she, with a merely moderate share of fortune which even in its slight proportion was only due to her own hard incessant work,--she was happy. And I,--with my millions,--was wretched! How was it? Why was it? What had I done? I had lived as my compeers lived,--I had followed the lead of all society,--I had feasted my friends and effectually 'snubbed' my foes,--I had comported myself exactly as others of my wealth comport themselves,--and I had married a woman whom most men, looking upon once, would have been proud to win. Nevertheless there seemed to be a curse upon me. What had I missed out of life? I knew,--but was ashamed to own it, because I had previously scorned what I called the dream-nothings of mere sentiment. And now I had to acknowledge the paramount importance of those 'dream-nothings' out of which all true living must come. I had to realize that my marriage was nothing but the mere mating of the male and female animal,--a coarse bodily union, and no more;--that all the finer and deeper emotions which make a holy thing of human wedlock, were lacking,--the mutual respect, the trusting sympathy,--the lovely confidence of mind with mind,--the subtle inner spiritual bond which no science can analyse, and which is so much closer and stronger than the material, and knits immortal souls together when bodies decay--these things had no existence, and never would exist between my wife and me. Thus, as far as I was concerned, there was a strange blankness in the world,--I was thrust back upon myself for comfort and found none. What should I do with my life, I wondered drearily! Win fame,--true fame,--after all? With Sibyl's witch-eyes mocking my efforts?--never! If I had ever had any gifts of creative thought within me, _she_ would have killed it!