low him, the country stretched like a piece of brilliant patchwork.
Thorpe, with its many chimneys and stately avenues, and the village
hidden by a grove of elms, was like a cool oasis in the midst of the
landscape. Behind, the hills ran rockier and wilder, culminating in a
bleak stretch of country, in the middle of which was the monastery.
Macheson looked downwards at Thorpe, with the faint clang of that single
bell in his ears. The frown on his forehead deepened as the rush of
thoughts took insistent hold of him.

For a young man blessed with vigorous health, free from all material
anxieties, and with the world before him, Macheson found life an
uncommonly serious matter. Only a few years ago, he had left the
University with a brilliant degree, a splendid athletic record, and a
host of friends. What to do with his life! That was the problem which
pressingly confronted him. He recognized in himself certain gifts
inevitably to be considered in this choice. He was possessed of a deep
religious sense, an immense sympathy for his fellows, and a passion for
the beautiful in life, from which the physical side was by no means
absent.

How to find a career which would satisfy such varying qualities! A life
of pleasure, unless it were shared by his fellows, did not appeal to him
at all; personal ambition he was destitute of; his religion, he was very
well aware, was not the sort which would enable him to enter with any
prospect of happiness any of the established churches. For a time he had
travelled, and had come back with only one definite idea in his mind.
Chance had brought him, on his return, into contact with two young men
of somewhat similar tastes. A conversation between them one night had
given a certain definiteness to his aims. He recalled it to himself as
he sat looking down at the thin blue line of smoke rising from the
chimneys of Thorpe.

"To use one's life for others," he had repeated thoughtfully--it was the
enthusiast of the party who had spoken--"but how?"

"Teach them to avoid like filth the ugly things of life--help them in
their search for the things beautiful."

"What are the things beautiful?" he had asked. "Don't they mean
something different to every man?"

Holderness had lifted his beautiful head--the boy with whom he had
played at school--the friend of his younger life.

"The Christian morality," he had answered.

Macheson had been surprised.

"But you----" he said, "you don't believe anyt