of this sort with old Willersley," I
said, "ever so many years ago. It was some place near Locarno, and we
looked down the lake that shone weltering--just as now we look over the
sea. And then we dreamt in an indistinct featureless way of all that you
and I are doing now."

"I!" said Isabel, and laughed.

"Well, of some such thing," I said, and remained for awhile silent,
thinking of Locarno.

I recalled once more the largeness, the release from small personal
things that I had felt in my youth; statecraft became real and wonderful
again with the memory, the gigantic handling of gigantic problems. I
began to talk out my thoughts, sitting up beside her, as I could never
talk of them to any one but Isabel; began to recover again the
purpose that lay under all my political ambitions and adjustments and
anticipations. I saw the State, splendid and wide as I had seen it in
that first travel of mine, but now it was no mere distant prospect of
spires and pinnacles, but populous with fine-trained, bold-thinking,
bold-doing people. It was as if I had forgotten for a long time and now
remembered with amazement.

At first, I told her, I had been altogether at a loss how I could do
anything to battle against the aimless muddle of our world; I had
wanted a clue--until she had come into my life questioning, suggesting,
unconsciously illuminating. "But I have done nothing," she protested. I
declared she had done everything in growing to education under my eyes,
in reflecting again upon all the processes that had made myself, so
that instead of abstractions and blue-books and bills and devices, I had
realised the world of mankind as a crowd needing before all things fine
women and men. We'd spoilt ourselves in learning that, but anyhow we had
our lesson. Before her I was in a nineteenth-century darkness, dealing
with the nation as if it were a crowd of selfish men, forgetful of women
and children and that shy wild thing in the hearts of men, love, which
must be drawn upon as it has never been drawn upon before, if the State
is to live. I saw now how it is possible to bring the loose factors of a
great realm together, to create a mind of literature and thought in it,
and the expression of a purpose to make it self-conscious and fine.
I had it all clear before me, so that at a score of points I could
presently begin. The BLUE WEEKLY was a centre of force. Already we had
given Imperialism a criticism, and leavened half the press from