Of course in a sense praise makes life more
interesting; but what I really desire to apprehend is the
significance and meaning of life, that strange mixture of pain and
pleasure, of commonplace events and raptures; and my book brings me
no nearer that. To feel God nearer me, to feel, not by evidence but
by instinct, that there is a Heart that cares for me, and moulded
me from the clay for a purpose--why, I would give all that I have
in the world for that!
Of course Maud will be pleased; but that will be because she
believes that I deserve everything and anything, and is only
surprised that the world has not found out sooner what a marvellous
person I am. God knows I do not undervalue her belief in me; but it
makes and keeps me humble to feel how far she is from the truth,
how far from realising the pitiful weakness and emptiness of her
lover and husband.
Is this, I wonder, how all successful people feel about fame? The
greatest of all have often never enjoyed the least touch of it in
their lifetime; and they are happier so. Some few rich and generous
natures, like Scott and Browning, have neither craved for it nor
valued it. Some of the greatest have desired it, slaved for it,
clung to it.
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