But the two years they had given themselves to learn all that could possibly be learned by foreign travel was over, and only this morning he had spoken to her of the home-life which they would lead in the autumn, between the time when they came down from Scotland and Christmas. They would be at Brixham a great deal, and the house would be constantly full. They would have a dozen big parties at least. And as in those first dear days at Brixham she had opened his eyes to his opportunities which he had no more than dreamed about, so again now she would have to show him the way. They had educated themselves; it was time now to let the world have the privilege of observing two educated people at home, the centre of a cultured, critical circle.
The last sentence was invented parody; he had never said that, but it was, though a parody of other words of his, no parody of the idea that prompted them. Put into words, it was that he meant, and that was another of the occasional clouds. And for this cloud Lucia knew that she was largely responsible. Deliberately and of set purpose, in order to make herself real to him, in order to attract him to her, she had at the beginning of their acquaintance, which had ripened so rapidly, said exactly that sort of thing to him about his life and his opportunities. She had told him what a magnificent rôle he might play—how he might spread culture round him (this was scarcely even a parody of what she had said), and in this idle and pleasure-loving age form a new and wonderful cult for all that was lovely. Her own sentences, in fact, though with the stamp of his personality upon them, were repeated to her. They had inspired him in the first instance, but she did not find them inspiring now. But she had not been altogether insincere when she first found words for his aims; for before that she had imagined for herself a life of brilliance, not brilliant only from the merely worldly point of view, but keen with culture, eager after what was beautiful, quick to perceive. And he had taken her by the hand and said: "Lead me; be my guide to the beautiful life."
Hitherto, in these two years of travel, they had been learning, but somehow, though in it there had been much that was edifying (and, indeed, hardly anything that was not), Lucia had not found anywhere the magic that she had once told him was in Schubert, in a la France rose. Though Egypt, for instance, was most interesting, and though a knowledge of the history of the Pharaohs was undeniably a proper ingredient in that complex affair called
