And yet he had been able to talk with Rex, if
not freely, at least with a complete command of his faculties. He would
have reproached himself with heartlessness, but when his thoughts dwelt
upon those he had lost, he knew that the self-accusation was unmerited.
Not comprehending what passed in his own mind, and finding himself face
to face with a problem that seemed to involve his own life or death, it
is not altogether surprising that he should have persisted in
undergoing a self-imposed suffering which he almost unconsciously
regarded as a test of heroism.
But as he did his best to fortify himself in his intention another
power stood before him, not a gloomy presence of evil, not a sorrowful
but relentless fate, not a thing in itself terrible, grand or heroic,
and yet stronger and more real than any of those other shadows which
surrounded his life. He had not known that it was with him in such a
shape, he had not realised what it would be to face that which has
conquered all men sooner or later. The love of Hilda, which had
softened all his youth, but which in its unopposed calm had seemed so
gentle and tender that by an effort of his strong will he might put it
off if he would, the quiet spirit of calm which had been with him so
long, purifying his thoughts, simplifying his hopes for the future,
encouraging him ever in each present day, the love of untarnished youth
for spotless maidenhood rose up like the dawn upon a traveller in a
strange land, shedding its universal light upon the secret places of
his soul.
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