The Little Countess laughed. 'I suppose--because the threads of the
Net were so sensitive that they went on quivering long after he
tumbled out, and so betrayed the direction---'
'And afterwards, when you got older, Grafin,' interrupted Daddy, who
wished his cousin to hear the details of the extraordinary
coincidence, 'you elaborated your idea---'
'Yes, that thought and yearning always fulfil themselves somewhere,
somehow, sooner or later,' she continued. 'But I kept the imagery of
my Star Net in which all the world lies caught, and I used starlight
as the symbol of that sympathy which binds every heart to every other
heart. At my father's death, you see, I inherited his property. I
escaped from the garden which had been so long my prison, and I tried
to carry out in practical life what I had dreamed there as a child. I
got people together, where I could, and formed Thinkers' Guilds--
people, that is, who agreed to think beauty, love, and tolerance at
given hours in the day, until the habit, once formed, would run
through all their lives, and they should go about as centres of light,
sweetening the world. Few have riches, fewer still have talent, but
all can think. At least, one would _think_ so, wouldn't one?'--with a
smile and a fling of her little hands.
She paused a moment, and then went on to describe her failure.
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