ny wilderness. But this blessing was withheld;
whether by his own fault, or through the just will of the Father, Hugh
could not wholly discern. The hard fact remained that the inner
fortress was blank and bare, and that no friend or lover could be
invited thither.

But as Hugh's manhood melted into his middle age, the conflict between
the outer and inner spirit decreased. He was still, as ever, conscious
of the coldness of his inner heart; but he grew to believe that a
compromise was possible, and that his work was to cheer and welcome,
with all the outer resources at his command, any pilgrims who sought
his aid. He became patiently and unwearyingly kind. There was no
trouble he would not take for any one who appealed to him. He gave a
simple affection, a quiet sympathy, with eager readiness; and learned
that, if he lacked that fiery and impetuous core of emotion, which can
make the whole world different to those who can light their torches at
its glow, yet he could smoothe the path and comfort the steps of less
ardent, less impulsive spirits. He could add something of light and
warmth to the cold world. If sometimes those who were attracted by his
genial bearing and sympathetic kindness were disappointed and troubled
at finding how slender a stream it was, well, that was inevitable. He
realised himself that his was a shallow nature, full of motion and
foam, wide but not deep, and that its bright force and swift curves hid
from others, though not from himself, its lack of force and energy.
And so when it came to him to lay aside his public work, and to enter a
life which seemed an almost disappointingly meagre field to those who
had formed high hopes of him, believing that he had a rich and prodigal
nature, a depth of insight and force, he made the change himself with a
fervent and abundant gratitude; feeling that he was unequal to the
larger claims, and would but have attempted to hide his lack of force
under a certain brisk liveliness and paradoxical display; while that in
the narrow channel which his life now entered, he would at least be
employing all the force of which he was capable.

He was not free from misgivings; but he felt that what appeared to be a
shrinking and cowardly diffidence to others, was the inevitable result
of the richness of his outer nature, the exuberance of which they held
to issue from a reservoir of secret force; but, though he sighed at
their disappointment, he felt that he was e