seemed altogether favourable to an opposite view. His resolution had
been to remain single so long as he could not marry the woman of his
choice. Firmly enough he had taken his stand on that ground, realising
to the utmost every difficulty to be encountered, every interest to be
thrown aside, from the exigencies of such a position. The
misunderstandings which would arise, the restraint, the loneliness, the
possible morbidity of his own feeling, the sure absence of charity in
all outside criticism of his conduct, were not overlooked or
under-estimated by a man so versed as himself in the tariff of the
market-place. He had known full well that his decision, robbed of its
romantic and picturesque motives, would affect very seriously every step
in his career, and influence, as only violence to one's human affections
can influence, his character, his mode of thought, his whole view of
life and his work in life. This he had known--known, that is to say, as
much as anything may be known of a plan not yet executed and destined to
a slow accomplishment which finds its final seal of success or failure
neither in this existence nor in death, but beyond the grave. Now,
however, that the exterior obstacles to a happier scheme were apparently
removed, the more formidable opposition of his own secret ideals stirred
ominously in his conscience. Men's designs are never so indefinite and
confused as when they meet with no outward resistance. A close attack
has proved the salvation of most human wills and roused the energy of
many drooping convictions. It is seldom good that one should enter into
any vocation very easily, sweetly, and without strife. The best
apprenticeships, whether ecclesiastical or religious, or civil or
military, or political or artistic, are never the most calm. Whether we
study the lives of saints or the lives of those distinguished in any
walk of human endeavour where perfection, in some degree or other, has
been at least the goal, we always find that the first years of the
pursuit have been one bitter history of temptations, doubts,
despondencies, struggles, and agonising inconsistencies of volition. To
natures cold originally, or extinguished by a false asceticism, many
seeming acts of sacrifice are but the subtle indulgence of that curious
selfishness which is not the more spiritual because it is independent of
others, or the less repulsive because it is most contented in its
isolation from every responsibility. A