Half an hour later he was once more on the road leading to the park gate. He had a vague memory that at parting the Squire had shown him the cordiality of one suddenly anxious to apologize by manner, if not by word. Otherwise everything was forgotten. He was only anxious, half dazed as he was, to make out wherein lay the vital difference between his present self and the Elsmere who had passed along that road an hour before. He had heard a conversation on religious topics, wherein nothing was new to him, nothing affected him intellectually at all. What was there in that to break the spring of life like this? He stood still, heavily trying to understand himself. Then gradually it became clear to him. A month ago, every word of that hectic young pleader for Christ and the Christian certainties would have roused in him a leaping passionate sympathy,--the heart’s yearning assent, even when the intellect was most perplexed. Now that inmost strand had given way. Suddenly, the disintegrating force he had been so pitifully, so blindly, holding at bay, had penetrated once for all into the sanctuary! What had happened to him had been the first real failure of feeling, the first treachery of the Heart. Wishart’s hopes and hatreds, and sublime defiances of man’s petty faculties, had aroused in him no echo, no response. His soul had been dead within him. As he gained the shelter of the wooded lane beyond the gate, it seemed to Robert that he was going through, once more, that old fierce temptation of Bunyan’s,-- ‘For after the Lord had in this manner thus graciously delivered me, and had set me down so sweetly in the faith of His Holy Gospel, and had given me such strong consolation and blessed evidence from heaven, touching my interest in His love through Christ, the tempter came upon me again, and that with a more grievous and dreadful temptation than before. And that was, “To sell and part with this most blessed Christ; to exchange Him for the things of life, for anything!” The temptation lay upon me for the space of a year, and did follow me so continually that I was not rid of it one day in a month: no, not sometimes one hour in many days together, for it did always, in almost whatever I thought, intermix itself therewith, in such sort that I could neither eat my food, stoop for a pin, chop a stick, or cast mine eyes to look on this or that, but still the temptation would come: “Sell Christ for this, or sell Christ for that, sell Him, sell Him!”’ Was this what lay before the minister of God now in this _selva oscura_ of life? The selling of the Master, of ‘the love so sweet, the unction spiritual,’ for an intellectual satisfaction, the ravaging of all the fair places of the heart by an intellectual need!