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