The only shadow of this beautiful hour was that in this rapt space of tranquil reflection one seemed to have harmonised and explained life, joy and disaster alike, to have wound up a clue, to have brought it all to a peaceful and perfect climax of silence, like a tale that is told; and then it was necessary to go out to the world again with all its bitterness, its weariness, its dissatisfaction--till one almost wondered whether it was wise or brave to have chased and captured this strange phantom of imagined peace. Yes, it was wise sometimes, Hugh felt sure! to have refused it would have been like refusing to drink from a cool and bubbling wayside spring, as one fared on a hot noon over the shimmering mountain-side--refused, in a spirit of false austerity, for fear that one would thirst again through the dreary leagues ahead. As long as one remembered that it was but an imagined peace, that one had not attained it, it was yet well to remember that the peace was real, that it existed somewhere, even though it was still shut within the heart of God. However slow the present progress, however long the road, it was possible to look forward in hope, to know that one would move more blithely and firmly when the time should come for the desired peace to be given one more abundantly; it helped one, as one stumbled and lingered, to look a little further on, and to say, "I will run the way of Thy commandments, when Thou hast set my heart at liberty." XXXIV Pictorial Art--Hand and Soul--Turner--Raphael--Secrets of Art