ow," said Gerard, "I rise with the lark, good neighbour Franklin;
but before you go, Sybil will sing to us a requiem that I love: it
stills the spirit before we sink into the slumber which may this night
be death, and which one day must be."

Book 3 Chapter 6

A bloom was spread over the morning sky. A soft golden light bathed with
its fresh beam the bosom of the valley, except where a delicate haze,
rather than a mist, still partially lingered over the river, which yet
occasionally gleamed and sparkled in the sunshine. A sort of shadowy
lustre suffused the landscape, which, though distinct, was mitigated in
all its features--the distant woods, the clumps of tall trees that rose
about the old grey bridge, the cottage chimneys that sent their smoke
into the blue still air, amid their clustering orchards and garden of
flowers and herbs.

Ah! what is there so fresh and joyous as a summer morn! That spring time
of the day, when the brain is bright, and the heart is brave; the season
of daring and of hope; the renovating hour!

Came forth from his cottage room the brother of Lord Marney, to feel the
vigorous bliss of life amid sunshiny gardens and the voices of bees and
birds.

"Ah! this is delicious!" he felt. "This is existence! Thank God I am
here; that I have quitted for ever that formal and heartless Marney.
Were it not for my mother, I would remain Mr Franklin for ever. Would I
were indeed a journalist; provided I always had a mission to the vale
of Mowbray. Or anything, so that I were ever here. As companions,
independent of everything else, they are superior to any that I have
been used to. Why do these persons interest me? They feel and they
think: two habits that have quite gone out of fashion, if ever they
existed, among my friends. And that polish of manners, that studied and
factitious refinement, which is to compensate for the heartlessness or
the stupidity we are doomed to--is my host of last night deficient in
that refinement? If he do want our conventional discipline, he has a
native breeding which far excels it. I observe no word or action which
is not prompted by that fine feeling which is the sure source of good
taste. This Gerard appears to me a real genuine man; full of knowledge
worked out by his own head; with large yet wholesome sympathies; and a
deuced deal better educated than Lord de Mowbray or my brother--and they
do occasionally turn over a book, which is not the habit of our set.