orne its
natural fruits.

A small incident, which need not be recorded, recalled to Elsmere's
mind--after he had been working some six weeks in the district--the
forgotten unwelcome fact that St. Wilfrid's was the very church where
Newcome, first as senior curate and then as vicar, had spent those ten
wonderful years into which Elsmere at Murewell had been never tired of
inquiring. The thought of Newcome was a very sore thought. Elsmere had
written to him announcing his resignation of his living immediately
after his interview with the bishop. The letter had remained unanswered,
and it was by now tolerably clear that the silence of its recipient
meant a withdrawal from all friendly relations with the writer.
Elsmere's affectionate sensitive nature took such things hardly,
especially as he knew that Newcome's life was becoming increasingly
difficult and embittered. And it gave him now a fresh pang to imagine
how Newcome would receive the news of his quondam friend's 'infidel
propaganda,' established on the very ground where he himself had all but
died for those beliefs Elsmere had thrown over.

But Robert was learning a certain hardness in this London life which was
not without its uses to character. Hitherto he had always swum with the
stream, cheered by the support of all the great and prevailing English
traditions. Here, he and his few friends were fighting a solitary fight
apart from the organised system of English religion and English
philanthropy. All the elements of culture and religion already existing
in the place were against them. The clergy of St. Wilfrid's passed them
with cold averted eyes; the old and _faineant_ rector of the parish
church very soon let it be known what he thought as to the taste of
Elsmere's intrusion on his parish, or as to the eternal chances of those
who might take either him or Edwardes as guides in matters religious.
His enmity did Elgood Street no harm, and the pretensions of the Church,
in this Babel of 20,000 souls, to cover the whole field, bore clearly no
relation at all to the facts. But every little incident in this new
struggle of his life cost Elsmere more perhaps than it would have cost
other men. No part of it came easily to him. Only a high Utopian vision
drove him on from day to day, bracing him to act and judge, if need be,
alone and for himself, approved only by conscience and the inward voice.

'Tasks in hours of insight willed
Can be in hours of gloom ful