particular illness, save a great weakness in his
limbs. He was in himself particularly happy, for Mary was always with
him, and Angus passed every evening with them both. Another great
pleasure, too, he found in the occasional and entirely unobtrusive
visits of the parson of the little parish--a weak and ailing man
physically, but in soul and intellect exceptionally strong. As different
from the Reverend Mr. Arbroath as an old-time Crusader would be from a
modern jockey, he recognised the sacred character of his mission as an
ordained minister of Christ, and performed that mission simply and
faithfully. He would sit by Helmsley's chair of a summer afternoon and
talk with him as friend to friend--it made no difference to him that to
all appearances the old man was poor and dependent on Mary Deane's
bounty, and that his former life was, to him, the clergyman, a sealed
book; he was there to cheer and to comfort, not to inquire, reproach, or
condemn. He was the cheeriest of companions, and the most hopeful of
believers.

"If all clergymen were like you, sir," said Helmsley to him one day,
"there would be no atheists!"

The good man reddened at the compliment, as though he had been accused
of a crime.

"You think too kindly of my efforts," he said gently. "I only speak to
you as I would wish others to speak to me."

"'For this is the Law and the Prophets!'" murmured Helmsley. "Sir, will
you tell me one thing--are there many poor people in Weircombe?"

The clergyman looked a trifle surprised.

"Why, yes, to tell the exact truth, they are all poor people in
Weircombe," he answered. "You see, it is really only a little fishing
village. The rich people's places are situated all about it, here and
there at various miles of distance, but no one with money lives in
Weircombe itself."

"Yet every one seems happy," said Helmsley thoughtfully.

"Oh, yes, every one not only seems, but _is_ happy!" and the clergyman
smiled. "They have the ordinary troubles that fall to the common lot, of
course--but they are none of them discontented. There's very little
drunkenness, and as a consequence, very little quarrelling. They are a
good set of people--typically English of England!"

"If some millionaire were to leave every man, woman, and child a
thousand or more pounds apiece, I wonder what would happen?" suggested
Helmsley.

"Their joy would be turned to misery!" said the clergyman--"and their
little heaven would become a hell!