Now, indeed, did the Great Things to which he was born lie to his hand.

Queerly but surely Destiny was guiding him upward.

In every way Chance had worked for him.
His poverty had been a cloak of honour; the thrice-blessed pawn ticket a patent of nobility.

His kingdom lay before him, its purple mountains looming through the mists of dawn.

And he would enter into it as the Awakener of England.