new tenacity to her godfather,
and with him to those memories of her father which were in the same
opposition to the division of men into sheep and goats by the easy mark
of some political or religious symbol.

After all has been said that can be said about the widening influence of
ideas, it remains true that they would hardly be such strong agents
unless they were taken in a solvent of feeling. The great
world-struggle of developing thought is continually foreshadowed in the
struggle of the affections, seeking a justification for love and hope.

If Romola's intellect had been less capable of discerning the
complexities in human things, all the early loving associations of her
life would have forbidden her to accept implicitly the denunciatory
exclusiveness of Savonarola. She had simply felt that his mind had
suggested deeper and more efficacious truth to her than any other, and
the large breathing-room she found in his grand view of human duties had
made her patient towards that part of his teaching which she could not
absorb, so long as its practical effect came into collision with no
strong force in her. But now a sudden insurrection of feeling had
brought about that collision. Her indignation, once roused by Camilla's
visions, could not pause there, but ran like an illuminating fire over
all the kindred facts in Savonarola's teaching, and for the moment she
felt what was true in the scornful sarcasms she heard continually flung
against him, more keenly than she felt what was false.

But it was an illumination that made all life look ghastly to her.
Where were the beings to whom she could cling, with whom she could work
and endure, with the belief that she was working for the right? On the
side from which moral energy came lay a fanaticism from which she was
shrinking with newly-startled repulsion; on the side to which she was
drawn by affection and memory, there was the presentiment of some secret
plotting, which her judgment told her would not be unfairly called
crime. And still surmounting every other thought was the dread inspired
by Tito's hints, lest that presentiment should be converted into
knowledge, in such a way that she would be torn by irreconcilable
claims.

Calmness would not come even on the altar-steps; it would not come from
looking at the serene picture where the saint, writing in the rocky
solitude, was being visited by faces with celestial peace in them.
Romola was in the hard press of