he may only at his direst peril profess or pretend to believe. And I
understand in my heart that Hugh had hitherto felt like one out on the
hillside, with wind and mist about him, and with whispers and voices
calling out of the mist; and that here he found a fold and a comradeship
such as he desired to find, and was never in any doubt again. And I am
sure that he soon began to feel the tranquillity which comes from having
taken, after much restlessness and anxiety, a hard course and made a
painful choice.

At first, however, he was deeply conscious of the strain through which
he had passed. He wrote to me in answer to the letter mentioned above:

_Sept. 23_, '03.

... Thank you so very much for your letter. It was delightful to
get it. I can't tell you what happiness it has been through
everything to know that you, as well as the others, felt as you
did: and now your letter comes to confirm it.

There is surprisingly little to say about myself; since you ask--

I have nothing more than the deepest possible conviction--no
emotionalism or sense of relief or anything of the kind.

As regards my plans--they too are tolerably vague.... All the
first week I was with the Dominicans--who, I imagine, will be my
final destination after two or three years.

... I imagine that I shall begin to read Theology again, in view
of future Ordination: and either I shall go to Rome at the