You could change nothing without marring the beauty of the whole.

During all the years in which Mr.Markland devoted himself to the perfecting of Woodbine Lodge, there was in his mind just so much of dissatisfaction with the present, as made the looked-for period, when all should be finished according to the prescriptions of taste, one in which there would be for him almost a Sabbath-repose.
How was it with Mr.Markland?
All that he had prescribed as needful to give perfect happiness was attained.

Woodbine Lodge realized his own ideal; and every one who looked upon it, called it an Eden of beauty.

His work was ended; and had he found rest and sweet peace?
Peace! Gentle spirit! Already she had half-folded her wings; but, startled by some uncertain sound, she was poised again, and seemed about to sweep the yielding air with her snowy pinions.
The enjoyment of all he had provided as a means of enjoyment did not come in the measure anticipated.

Soon mere beauty failed to charm the eye, and fragrance to captivate the senses; for mind immortal rests not long in the fruition of any achievement, but quickly gathers up its strength for newer efforts.