Alec was shown into a room where a good fire was blazing away with a continuous welcome; and when seated by it drinking his tea, he saw the whole world golden through the stained windows of his imagination.
But his satisfaction gradually passed into a vague longing after something else.

Would human nature be more perfect were it capable of being satisfied with cakes and ale?
Alec felt as if he had got to the borders of fairy-land, and _something_ was going to happen.

A door would open and admit him into the secret of the world.

But the door was so long in opening, that he took to unpacking his box; when, as he jumped up to thank his mother for some peculiar remembrance of his likings, the whole affair suddenly changed to a rehearsal of death; and his longings for the remainder of the night were towards the past.
He rose in the morning with the feeling revived, that something intense was going on all arouud.

But the door into life generally opens behind us, and a hand is put forth which draws us in backwards.