And so, like a figure that passes down a corridor and enters at an open door, Hugh passes from our sight. He mingles with his fellows, he goes to and fro, he speaks and he is silent, he smiles and weeps; he may not be distinguished from other men, and there lies his best happiness, because he is waiting upon God. His life may be long or short; he may mix with the crowd or sit solitary. If he differs at all from others, it is in this, that he desires no costly thread of gold, no bright-hued skein that he may weave his texture of life. Upon that tapestry will be depicted no knight in shining armour; no nymphs with floating vestures, no paradise of flowers; rather dim hills and cloud-hung valleys, and the darkness of haunted groves; with one figure of shadowy hue in sober raiment, walking earnestly as one that has a note of the way; he would desire nothing but what may uphold him; he would fear nothing but what may stain him; he would shun the company of none who need him; he would clasp the hand of any gentle-hearted pilgrim. So would he walk in quietness to the dim valley and the dark stream, believing that the Father has a place and a work and a joy for the smallest thing that His hands have made.
THE END
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THE SILENT ISLE
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