ildish smile came to him as a confirmation of his blithe mood; there
were others, then, bound on the same pilgrimage as himself, who wished
him well, and shared his happiness. To pass thus smiling through the
world, heedless as far as might be of weariness and sorrow, taking the
simple joys that flowed so freely, if only one divested oneself of the
hard and dull ambitions that made life into a struggle and a
contest--that was, perhaps, the secret! There would be days, no doubt,
of gloom and heaviness; days when life would run, like the stream which
he could hear murmuring below him, through dark coverts, dripping with
rain; days of frost, when nature was leafless and benumbed, and when
the rut was barred with icy spikes. But one could live in hope and
faith, waiting for the summer days, when life ran swift and bright;
under a pale sunset sky, till the streaks of crimson light died into a
transparent green; and the stream ran joyfully, under the stars,
wondering what sweet unfamiliar place might stand revealed, when the
day climbed slowly in the east, and the dew globed itself upon the
fresh grass, in the invigorating sweetness, the cool fragrance of the
dawn.

XXXVII

A Garden Scene--The Wine of the Soul

One hot cloudless day of summer, Hugh took a train, and, descending at
a quiet wayside station, walked to a little place deep in the country,
to see the remains of an ancient house which he was told had a great
beauty. He found the place with some difficulty. The church, to which
he first directed his steps, was very ancient and almost ruinous. It
was evidently far too big for the needs of the little hamlet, and it
was so poorly endowed that it was difficult to find any one who would
take the living. A great avenue of chestnuts, with a grass-grown walk
beneath, led up to the porch. He entered by a curious iron-bound door,
under a Norman arch of very quaint workmanship. The church was of
different dates, and the very neglect which it suffered gave it an
extreme picturesqueness. One of its fine features was a brick chapel,
built at the east end of one of the aisles, where an old baron lay in
state, in black armour, his eyes closed quietly, his pointed beard on
his breast, his hands folded, as though he lay praying to himself. The
heavy marble pillars of the shrine were carved with a stiff ornament of
vine-leaves and grape-clusters, and the canopy rose pompously to the
roof, with its cognisances and