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mory, unshadowed by present sadness, in the deep content of a freedom from all material anxieties, might become one of the purest and deepest treasures that it was possible to conceive. Hugh thought that his disembodied spirit might, in the after time, perhaps haunt those very river-banks, and with the mystery solved that had oppressed and darkened his human pilgrimage, might surrender itself to that beautiful and absolute tranquillity, that peace which the world could not give, for which he daily and hourly yearned. Perhaps indeed it was the presence of some such invisible, haunting _revenant_ whispering at his ear, longing even for some contact with healthy humanity, that had given him the wistful sense of mystery and longing. Who could say? And then the mood of recollection lapsed and rolled away like mists from a morning hill, and left Hugh once more confronted with the ugliness and dreariness of the actual world; only from his vision remained the hope, the resolution, to extract from life, as it passed, the purest and most delicate elements; its sweetness, its serenity; so that he might leave, as far as was possible, an inheritance of undimmed beauty for the memory to traffic with, to rid it so far as he could from all the envy, the dull detail, the tiresome complexities that might poison retrospect, leaving nothing but the fine gold of thought. XXII Death--The Real and the Ideal--A Thunder Shower--Storm and Shadow Hugh was wandering as his custom was, one hot and thunderous day, in the country lanes; it was very still, and through the soft haze that filled the air, the distant trees and fields lost their remoteness, and stood stiffly and quaintly as though painted. There seemed a presage of storm in the church-tower, which showed a ghostly white among the elms. A fitful breeze stirred at intervals. Hugh drew near the hamlet, and all of a sudden stepped into a stream of inconceivable sweetness and fragrance; he saw in a moment what was its origin. The strawberry-pickers were out in a broad field, and from the crushed berries, however lightly bruised, there poured this flow of scent, at once rich and pure, with all the native soul of the fruit exhaling upon the air. It was to other familiar scents like ointment poured forth; it seemed indeed to Hugh that anything so intensely impressive to the sense ought to have power to tinge the colourless air, which was thus so exquisitely laden and impreg
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