erished there, had not a good angel
come and dragged him out again and brushed the mud off his clothes,
and, taking him by the hand, led him along a safer path. And so for
awhile he drops out of the story, which says that, when he is not
thinking of the lost heroine, he is perhaps happier than he deserves
to be.

"Now, Arthur, I think that this foolish hero was right, and the
sensible heroine he worshipped so blindly, wrong.

"If you are still unmarried, and still care to put his theories to the
test, I believe that we also can make as beautiful a thing of our
lives as he thought that he and his heroine could, and, ourselves
supremely happy in each other's perfect love, may perhaps be able to
add to the happiness of some of our fellow-travellers. That is, I
think, as noble an end as a a man and woman can set before themselves.

"But if, on the other hand, you are tied to this other woman who loves
you by ties that cannot be broken, or that honour will not let you
break; or if you are unforgiving, and no longer wish to marry me as I
wish to marry you, then till that bright hour of immortal hope--
farewell. Yes, Arthur, farewell till the gate of Time has closed for
us--till, in the presence of God our Father, I shall for ever call you
mine.

"Alas! I am so weak that my tears fall as I write the word. Perhaps I
may never speak or write to you again, so once more, my dearest, my
beloved, my earthly treasure and my heavenly hope, farewell. May the
blessing of God be as constantly around you as my thoughts, and may He
teach you that these are not foolish words, but rather the faint
shadow of an undying light!

"I send back the ring that was used to trick me with. Perhaps,
whatever happens, you will wear it for my sake. It is, you know, a
symbol of Eternity.

"Angela Caresfoot."

CHAPTER LXXI

Just as Angela was engaged in finishing her long letter to Arthur--
surely one of the strangest ever written by a girl to the man she
loved--Mr. Fraser was reading an epistle which had reached him by that
afternoon's post. We will look over his shoulder, and see what was in
it.

It was a letter dated from the vicarage of one of the poorest parishes
in the great Dock district in the east of London. It began--

"Dear Sir,

"I shall be only too thankful to entertain your proposal for an
exchange of livings, more especially as, at first s