FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN
THIS YEAR BY GAB E 1_ 1_, LONDON
THE
TREASURE OF HEAVEN
A ROMANCE OF RICHES
BY
MARIE CORELLI
AUTHOR OF
GOD'S GOOD MAN," " THELMA," "THE SORROWS
OF SATAN," "ARDATH," "THE STORY OF
s A .DEAD SELF," "FREE OPINIONS"
"TEMPORAL POWER," ETC.
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
1906
COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
Published, August, 1906
PC
Vs
Til
To
lertlya
'A faithful friend is better than gold.'
AUTHOR'S NOTE
BY the special request of the Publishers, a portrait of
myself, taken in the spring of this year, 1906, forms the
Frontispiece to the present volume. I am somewhat re-
luctant to see it so placed, because it has nothing whatever
to do with the story which is told in the following pages,
beyond being a faithful likeness of the author who is re-
sponsible for this, and many other previous books which
have had the good fortune to meet with a friendly reception
from the reading public. Moreover, I am not quite able
to convince myself that my pictured personality can have
any interest for my readers, as it has always seemed to me
that an author's real being is more disclosed in his or
her work than in any portrayed presentment of mere
physiognomy.
But owing to the fact that various gross, and I think
I may say libellous and fictitious misrepresentations of me
have been freely and unwarrantably circulated throughout
Great Britain, the Colonies, and America, by certain
" lower " sections of the pictorial press, which, with .a zeal
worthy of a better and kinder cause, have striven by this
means to alienate my readers from me, it appears to my
Publishers advisable that an authentic likeness of myself,
as I truly am to-day, should now be issued in order to pre-
vent any further misleading of the public by fraudulent
inventions. The original photograph from which Messrs.
Dodd, Mead & Co. have reproduced the present photo-
gravure, was taken by Mr. G. Gabell of Eccleston Street,
London, who, at the time of my submitting myself to his
camera, was not aware of my identity. I used, for the
nonce, the name of a lady friend, who arranged that the
proofs of the portrait should be sent to her at various dif-
ferent addresses, and it was not till this " Romance of
Riches " was on the verge of publication that I disclosed
the real position to the courteous artist himself. That I
thus elected to be photographed as an unknown rather than
viii AUTHOR'S NOTE
\
a known person was in order that no extra pains should be
taken on my behalf, but that I should be treated just as an
ordinary stranger would be treated, with no less, but at
the same time certainly no more, care.
I may add, in conclusion, for the benefit of those few
who may feel any further curiosity on the subject, that no
portraits resembling me in any way are published any-
where, and that invented sketches purporting to pass as true
likenesses of me, are merely attempts to obtain money from
the public on false pretences. One picture of me, taken
in my own house by a friend who is an amateur photog-
rapher, was reproduced some time ago in the Strand Maga-
zine, The Boudoir, Cassell's Magazine, and The Rapid
Review; but beyond that, and the present one in this
volume, no photographs of me are on sale in any country,
either in shops or on postcards. My objection to this sort
of " picture popularity " has already been publicly stated,
and I here repeat and emphasise it. And I venture to ask
my readers who have so generously encouraged me by
their warm and constant appreciation of my literary efforts,
to try and understand the spirit in which the objection is
made. It is simply that to myself the personal " Self " of
me is nothing, and should be, rightly speaking, nothing to
any one outside the circle of my home and my intimate
friends; while my work and the keen desire to improve
in that work, so that by my work alone I may become
united in sympathy and love to my readers, whoever and
wherever they may be, constitutes for me the Everything
of life.
MARIE CORELLI
STRATFORD-ON-AVON
July, 1906
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
CHAPTER I
LONDON, and a night in June. London, swart and grim,
semi-shrouded in a warm close mist of mingled human
breath and acrid vapour steaming up from the clammy
Crowded streets, London, with a million twinkling lights
gleaming sharp upon its native blackness, and looking, to
a dreamer's eye, like some gigantic Fortress, built line
upon line and tower upon tower, with huge ramparts raised
about it frowningly as though in self-defence against
Heaven. Around and above it the deep sky swept in a ring
of sable blue, wherein thousands of stars were visible, en-
camped after the fashion of a mighty army, with sentinel
planets taking their turns of duty in the watching of a
rebellious world. A sulphureous wave of heat half asphyx-
iated the swarms of people who were hurrying to and fro
in that restless undetermined way which is such a pre-
dominating feature of what is called a London " season,"
and the general impression of the weather was, to one and
all, conveyed in a sense of discomfort and oppression, with
a vague struggling expectancy of approaching thunder.
Few raised their eyes beyond the thick warm haze which
hung low on the sooty chimney-pots, and trailed sleepily
along in the arid, dusty parks. Those who by chance looked
higher, saw that the skies above the city were divinely
calm and clear, and that not a cloud betokened so much
as the shadow of a storm.
The deep bell of Westminster chimed midnight, that hour
of picturesque ghostly tradition, when simple village maids
shudder at the thought of traversing a dark lane or passing
a churchyard, and when country folks of old-fashioned
habits and principles are respectably in bed and for the
most part sleeping. But so far as the fashionable " West
End " was concerned, it might have been mid-day. Every-
body assuming to be Anybody, was in town. The rumble
2 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
of carriages passing to and fro was incessant, the swift
whirr and warning hoot of coming and going motor ve-
hicles, the hoarse cries of the newsboys, and the general
insect-like drone and murmur of feverish human activity
were as loud as at any busy time of the morning or the
afternoon. There had been a Court at Buckingham Palace,
and a " special " performance at the Opera, and on
account of these two functions, entertainments were going
on at almost every fashionable house in every fashionable
quarter. The public restaurants were crammed with luxury-
loving men and women, men and women to whom the
mere suggestion of a quiet dinner in their own homes would
have acted as a menace of infinite boredom, and these
gilded and refined eating-houses were now beginning to
shoot forth their bundles of well-dressed, well-fed folk into
the many and various conveyances waiting to receive them.
There was a good deal of needless shouting, and much
banter between drivers and policemen. Now and again the
melancholy whine of a beggar's plea struck a discordant
note through the smooth-toned compliments and farewells
of hosts and their departing guests. No hint of pause or
repose was offered in the ever-changing scene of uneasy
and impetuous excitation of movement, save where, far
up in the clear depths of space, the glittering star-battalions
of a wronged and forgotten God held their steadfast watch
and kept their hourly chronicle. London with its brilliant
"season" seemed the only living fact worth recognising;
London, with its flaring noisy streets, and its hot summer
haze interposed like a grey veil between itself and the higher
vision. Enough for most people it was to see the veil, be-
yond it the view is always too vast and illimitable for the
little vanities of ordinary mortal minds.
Amid all the din and turmoil of fashion and folly seek-
ing its own in the great English capital at the midnight
hour, a certain corner of an exclusively fashionable quar-
ter seemed strangely quiet and sequestered, and this was
the back of one of the row of palace-like dwellings known
as Carlton House Terrace. Occasionally a silent-wheeled
hansom, brougham, or flashing motor-car sped swiftly along
the Mall, towards which the wide stone balcony of the house
projected, or the heavy footsteps of a policeman walking
on his beat crunched the gravel of the path beneath, but
the general atmosphere of the place was expressive of soli-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 3
tude and even of gloom. The imposing evidences of great
wealth, written in bold headlines on the massive square
architecture of the whole block of huge mansions, only
intensified the austere sombreness of their appearance, and
the fringe of sad-looking trees edging the road below sent
a faint waving shadow in the lamplight against the cold
walls, as though some shuddering consciousness of hap-
pier woodland scenes had suddenly moved them to a vain
regret. The haze of heat lay very thickly here, creep-
ing along with slow stealth like a sluggish stream, and a
suffocating odour suggestive of some subtle anaesthetic
weighed the air with a sense of nausea and depression. It
was difficult to realise that this condition of climate was
actually summer in its prime summer with all its glowing
abundance of flower and foliage as seen in fresh green
lanes and country dells, rather did it seem a dull night-
mare of what summer might be in a prison among crim-
inals undergoing punishment. The house with the wide
stone balcony looked particularly prison-like, even more so
than some of its neighbours, perhaps because the greater
number of its many windows were shuttered close, and
showed no sign of life behind their impenetrable blackness.
The only strong gleam of light radiating from the inner
darkness to the outer, streamed across the balcony itself,
which by means of two glass doors opened directly from
the room behind it. Here two men sat, or rather half
reclined in easy-cushioned lounge chairs, their faces turned
towards the Mall, so that the illumination from the apart-
ment in the background created a Rembrandt-like effect in
partially concealing the expression of the one from the
other's observation. Outwardly, and at a first causal
glance, there was nothing very remarkable about either of
them. One was old ; the other more than middle-aged.
Both were in evening-dress, both smoked idly, and ap-
parently not so much for the pleasure of smoking as for
lack of something better to do, and both seemed self-cen-
tred and absorbed in thought. They had been conversing
for some time, but now silence had fallen between them,
and neither seemed disposed to break the heavy spell. The
distant roar of constant traffic in the busy thoroughfares of
the metropolis sounded in their ears like muffled thunder,
while every now and again the soft sudden echo of dance
music, played by a string band in evident attendance at
4 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
some festive function in a house not far away, shivered
delicately through the mist like a sigh of pleasure. The
melancholy tree-tops trembled, a single star struggled
above the sultry vapours and shone out large and bright
as though it were a great signal lamp suddenly lit in heaven.
The elder of the two men seated on the balcony raised his
eyes and saw it shining. He moved uneasily, then lifting
himself a little in his chair, he spoke as though taking up a
dropped thread of conversation, with the intention of de-
liberately continuing it to the end. His voice was gentle
and mellow, with a touch of that singular pathos in its tone
which is customary to the Celtic rather than to the Saxon
vocal cords.
" I have given you my full confidence," he said, " and
I have put before you the exact sum total of the matter
as I see it. You think me irrational, absurd. Good. Then
I am content to be irrational and absurd. In any case you
can scarcely deny that what I have stated is a simple fact, a
truth which cannot be denied ? "
" It is a truth, certainly," replied his companion, pulling
himself upright in his chair with a certain vexed vehemence
of action and flinging away his half-smoked cigar, " but it
is one of those unpleasant truths which need not be looked
at too closely or too often remembered. We must all get
old unfortunately, and we must all die, which in my opin-
ion is more unfortunate still. But we need not anticipate
such a disagreeable business before its time."
" Yet you are always drawing up Last Wills and Testa-
ments," observed the other, with a touch of humour in his
tone.
" Oh well ! That, of course, has to be done. The young-
est persons should make their wills if they have anything to
leave, or else run the risk of having all their household goods
and other belongings fought for with tooth and claw by
their ' dearest ' relations. Dearest relations are, according
to my experience, very much like wild cats : give them the
faintest hope of a legacy, and they scratch and squawl as
though it were raw meat for which they have been starving.
In all my long career as a solicitor I never knew one ' dear-
est relation ' who honestly regretted the dead."
" There you meet me on the very ground of our previous
discussions," said the elder man. " It is not the conscious-
ness of old age that troubles me, or the inevitable approach
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 5
of that end which is common to all, it is merely the outlook
into the void, the teasing wonder as to who may step into
my place when I am gone, and what will be done with the
results of my life's labour."
He rose as he spoke, and moved towards the balcony's
edge, resting one hand upon its smooth stone. The change
of attitude allowed the light from the interior room to play
more fully on his features, and showed him to be well ad-
vanced in age, with a worn, yet strong face and deep-set
eyes, over which the shelving brows stooped benevolently
as though to guard the sinking vital fire in the wells of vision
below. The mouth was concealed by an ashen-grey mous-
tache, while on the forehead and at the sides of the temples
the hair was perfectly white, though still abundant. A cer-
tain military precision of manner was attached to the whole
bearing of the man, his thin figure was well-built and up-
right, showing no tendency to feebleness, his shoulders
were set square, and his head was poised in a manner that
might have been called uncompromising, if not obstinate.
Even the hand that rested on the balcony, attenuated and
deeply wrinkled as it was, suggested strength in its shape
and character, and a passing thought of this flitted across
the mind of his companion who, after a pause, said slowly :
" I really see no reason why you should brood on such
things. What's the use ? Your health is excellent for your
time of life. Your end is not imminent. You are volun-
tarily undergoing a system of self-torture which is quite
unnecessary. We've known each other for years, yet I
hardly recognise you in your present humour. I thought
you were perfectly happy. Surely you ought to be, you,
David Helmsley, * King ' David, as you are sometimes
called one of the richest men in the world ! "
Helmsley smiled, but with a suspicion of sadness.
" Neither kings nor rich men hold special grants of hap-
piness," he answered, quietly : " Your own experience of
humanity must have taught you that. Personally speaking,
I have never been happy since my boyhood. This surprises
you? I daresay it does. But, my dear Vesey, old friend
as you are, it sometimes happens that our closest intimates
know us least! And even the famous firm of Vesey and
Symonds, or Symonds and Vesey, for your partner is one
with you and you are one with your partner, may, in spite
of all their legal wisdom, fail to pierce the thick disguises
6 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
worn by the souls of their clients. The Man in the Iron
Mask is a familiar figure in the office of his confidential
solicitor. I repeat, I have never been happy since my boy-
hood "
" Your happiness then was a mere matter of youth and
animal spirits," interposed Vesey.
" I thought you would say that ! " and again a faint
smile illumined Helmsley's features. " It is just what every
one would say. Yet the young are often much more miser-
able than the old; and while I grant that youth may have
had something to do with my past joy in life, it was not all.
No, it certainly was not all. It was simply that I had then
what I have never had since."
He broke off abruptly. Then stepping back to his chair
he resumed his former reclining position, leaning his head
Against the cushions and fixing his eyes on the solitary bright
star that shone above the mist and the trembling trees.
" May I talk out to you ? " he inquired suddenly, with a
touch of whimsicality. " Or are you resolved to preach
copy-book moralities at me, such as ' Be good and you will
be happy ? ' '
Vesey, more ceremoniously known as Sir Francis Vesey,
one of the most renowned of London's great leading so-
licitors, looked at him and laughed.
" Talk out, my dear fellow, by all means ! " he replied.
" Especially if it will do you any good. But don't ask me
to sympathise very deeply with the imaginary sorrows of
so enormously wealthy a man as you are ! "
" I don't expect any sympathy," said Helmsley. " Sym-
pathy is the one thing I have never sought, because I know
it is not to be obtained, even from one's nearest and dearest.
Sympathy! Why, no man in the world ever really gets it,
even from his wife. And no man possessing a spark of
manliness ever wants it, except sometimes "
He hesitated, looking steadily at the star above him, then
went on.
"Except sometimes, when the power of resistance is
weakened when the consciousness is strongly borne in
upon us of the unanswerable wisdom of Solomon, who
wrote ' I hated all my labour which I had taken under the
sun, because I should leave it to the man that should be
after me. And who knows whether he shall be a wise man
or a fool?'"
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 7
Sir Francis Vesey, dimly regretting the half-smoked cigar
he had thrown away in a moment of impatience, took out
a fresh one from his pocket-case and lit it.
" Solomon has expressed every disagreeable situation hi
life with remarkable accuracy," he murmured placidly, as
he began to puff rings of pale smoke into the surrounding
yellow haze, " but he was a bit of a misanthrope."
" When I was a boy," pursued Helmsley, not heeding his
legal friend's comment, " I was happy chiefly because I be-
lieved. I never doubted any stated truth that seemed beau-
tiful enough to be true. I had perfect confidence in the
goodness of God and the ultimate happiness designed by
Him for every living creature. Away out in Virginia where
I was born, before the Southern States were subjected to
Yankeedom, it was a glorious thing merely to be alive. The
clear, pure air, fresh with the strong odour of pine and
cedar, the big plantations of cotton and corn, the colours
of the autumn woods when the maple trees turned scarlet,
and the tall sumachs blazed like great fires on the sides of
the mountains, the exhilarating climate the sweetness of
the south-west wind, all these influences of nature appealed
to my soul and kindled a strange restlessness in it which has
never been appeased. Never! though I have lived my
life almost to its end, and have done all those things which
most men do who seek to get the utmost satisfaction they
can out of existence. But I am not satisfied ; I have never
been satisfied."
"And you never will be," declared Sir Francis firmly.
" There are some people to whom Heaven itself would prove
disappointing."
" Well, if Heaven is the kind of place depicted by the
clergy, the poorest beggar might resent its offered attrac-
tions," said Helmsley, with a slight, contemptuous shrug of
his shoulders. "After a life of .continuous pain and strug-
gle, the pleasures of singing for ever and ever to one's own
harp accompaniment are scarcely sufficient compensation."
Vesey laughed cheerfully.
" It's all symbolical," he murmured, puffing away at his
cigar, " and really very well meant ! Positively now, the
clergy are capital fellows ! They do their best, they keep
it up. Give them credit for that at least, Helmsley, they
do keep it up ! "
Helmsley was silent for a minute or two.
8 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" We are rather wandering from the point," he said at
last. " What I know of the clergy generally has not taught
me to rely upon them for any advice in a difficulty, or any
help out of trouble. Once in a moment of weakness and
irresolution I asked a celebrated preacher what suggestion
he could make to a rich man, who, having no heirs, sought
a means of disposing of his wealth to the best advantage for
others after his death. His reply "
" Was the usual thing, of course," interposed Sir Francis
blandly. " He said, ' Let the rich man leave it all to me,
and God will bless him abundantly ! ' ;
" Well, yes, it came to that," and Helmsley gave a short
impatient sigh. " He evidently guessed that the rich man
implied was myself, for ever since I asked him the question,
he has kept me regularly supplied with books and pamphlets
relating to his Church and various missions. I daresay he's
a very good fellow. But I've no fancy to assist him. He
works on sectarian lines, and I am of no sect. Though I
confess I should like to believe in God if I could."
Sir Francis, fanning a tiny wreath of cigar smoke away
with one hand, looked at him curiously, but offered no
remark.
" You said I might talk out to you," continued Helms-
ley " and it is perhaps necessary that I should do so, since
you have lately so persistently urged upon me the importance
of making my will. You are perfectly right, of course, and
I alone am to blame for the apparently stupid hesitation I
show in following your advice. But, as I have already told
you, I have no one in the world who has the least claim
upon me, no one to whom I can bequeath, to my own sat-
isfaction, the wealth I have earned. I married, as you
know, and my marriage was unhappy. It ended, and
you are aware of all the facts -in the proved infidelity of
my wife, followed by our separation (effected quietly, thanks
to you, without the vulgar publicity of the divorce court),
and then in her premature death. Notwithstanding all
this, I did my best for my two sons, you are a witness to
this truth, and you remember that during their lifetime I
did make my will, in their favour. They turned out badly;
each one ran his own career of folly, vice, and riotous dis-
sipation, and both are dead. Thus it happens that here I
am, alone at the age of seventy, without any soul to care
for me, or any creature to whom I can trust my business,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 9
or leave my fortune. It is not my fault that it is so ; it is
sheer destiny. How, I ask you, can I make any ' Last Will
and Testament ' under such conditions ? "
"If you make no will at all, your property goes to the
Crown," said Vesey bluntly.
" Naturally. I know that. But one might have a worse
heir than the Crown ! The Crown may be trusted to take
proper care of money, and this is more than can often be
said of one's sons and daughters. I tell you it is all as
Solomon said ' vanity and vexation of spirit.' The amass-
ing of great wealth is not worth the time and trouble in-
volved in the task. One could do so much better "
Here he paused.
" How ? " asked Vesey, with a half-smile. " What else is
there to be done in this world except to get rich in order to
live comfortably ? "
"I know people who are not rich at all, and who never
will be rich, yet who live more comfortably than I have ever
done," replied Helmsley " that is, if to ' live comfortably r
implies to live peacefully, happily, and contentedly, taking
each day as it comes with gladness as a real ' living ' time.
And by this, I mean ' living,' not with the rush and scram-
ble, fret and jar inseparable from money-making, but living
just for the joy of life. Especially when it is possible to-
believe that a God exists, who designed life, and even death.,
for the ultimate good of every creature. This is what 1
believed once ' out in ole Virginny, a long time ago ! ' '
He hummed the last words softly under his breath, then
swept one hand across his eyes with a movement of
impatience.
" Old men's brains grow addled," he continued. " They
become clouded with a fog through which only the memories
of the past and the days of their youth shine clear. Some-
times I talk of Virginia as if I were home-sick and wanted
to go back to it, yet I never do. I wouldn't go back to it
for the world, not now. I'm not an American, so I can
say, without any loss of the patriotic sense, that I loathe
America. It is a country to be used for the majcing of
wealth, but it is not a country to be loved. It might have
been the most lovable Father-and-Mother-Land on the globe
if nobler men had lived long enough in it to rescue its people
from the degrading Dollar-craze. But now, well ! those
who make fortunes there leave it as soon as they can, shak-
10 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ing its dust off their feet and striving to forget that they
ever experienced its incalculable greed, vice, cunning, and
general rascality. There are plenty of decent folk in Amer-
ica, of course, just as there are decent folk everywhere, but
they are in the minority. Even in the Southern States the
' old stock ' of men is decaying and dying out, and the taint
of commercial vulgarity is creeping over the former sim-
plicity of the Virginian homestead. No, I would not go
tack to the scene of my boyhood, for though I had some-
thing there once which I have since lost, I am not such a
fool as to think I should ever find it again."
Here he looked round at his listener with a smile so sud-
den and sweet as to render his sunken features almost
youthful.
" I believe I am boring you, Vesey ! " he said.
" Not the least in the world, you never bore me," replied
Sir Francis, with alacrity. " You are always interesting,
even in your most illogical humour."
" You consider me illogical ? "
" In a way, yes. For instance, you abuse America.
Why? Your misguided wife was American, certainly, but
setting that unfortunate fact aside, you made your money
in the States. Commercial vulgarity helped you along.
Therefore be just to commercial vulgarity."
" I hope I am just to it, I think I am," answered Helms-
ley slowly ; " but I never was one with it. I never expected
to wring a dollar out of ten cents, and never tried. I can
at least say that I have made my money honestly, and have
trampled no man down on the road to fortune. But then I
am not a citizen of the ' Great Republic.' "
" You were born in America," said Vesey.
" By accident," replied Helmsley, with a laugh, " and
kindly fate favoured me by allowing me to see my first day-
light in the South rather than in the North. But I was
never naturalised as an American. My father and mother
were both English, they both came from the same little
sea-coast village in Cornwall. They married very young,
theirs was a romantic love-match, and they left England
in the hope of bettering their fortunes. They settled in Vir-
ginia and grew to love it. My father became accountant to
a large business firm out there, and did fairly well, though
he never was a rich man in the present-day meaning of the
term. He had only two children, myself and my sister,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN II
who died at sixteen. I was barely twenty when I lost both 1
father and mother and started alone to face the world."
" You have faced it very successfully," said Vesey ; " and
if you would only look at things in the right and reasonable
way, you have really very little to complain of. Your mar-
riage was certainly an unlucky one "
" Do not speak of it ! " interrupted Helmsley, hastily. " It
is past and done with. Wife and children are swept out of
my life as though they had never been! It is a curious-
thing, perhaps, but with me a betrayed affection does not
remain in my memory as affection at all, but only as a spuri-
ous image of the real virtue, not worth considering or re-
gretting. Standing as I do now, on the threshold of the
grave, I look back, and in looking back I see none of those
who wronged and deceived me, they have disappeared alto-
gether, and their very faces and forms are blotted out of my
remembrance. So much so, indeed, that I could, if I had
the chance, begin a new life again and never give a thought
to the old ! "
His eyes flashed a sudden fire under their shelving brows,
and his right hand clenched itself involuntarily.
" I suppose," he continued, " that a kind of harking back
to the memories of one's youth is common to all aged per-
sons. With me it has become almost morbid, for daily and
hourly I see myself as a boy, dreaming away the time in the
wild garden of our home in Virginia, watching the fireflies
light up the darkness of the summer evenings, and listening
to my sister singing in her soft little voice her favourite
melody 'Angels ever bright and fair.' As I said to you
when we began this talk, I had something then which I have
never had since. Do you know what it was ? "
Sir Francis, here finishing his cigar, threw away its glow-
ing end, and shook his head in the negative.
" You will think me as sentimental as I am garrulous,"
went on Helmsley, "when I tell you that it was merely
love!"
Vesey raised himself in his chair and sat upright, opening
his eyes in astonishment.
" Love ! " he echoed. " God bless my soul ! I should
have thought that you, of all men in the world, could have
won that easily ! "
Helmsley turned towards him with a questioning look.
" Why should I ' of all men in the world ' have won it? "
12 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
lie asked. " Because I am rich ? Rich men are seldom, if
ever, loved for themselves only for what they can give to
their professing lovers."
His ordinarily soft tone had an accent of bitterness in it,
and Sir Francis Vesey was silent.
" Had I remained poor, poor as I was when I first
started to make my fortune," he went on, " I might possibly
have been loved by some woman, or some friend, for myself
alone. For as a young fellow I was not bad-looking, nor
had I, so I flatter myself, an unlikable disposition. But luck
always turned the wheel in my favour, and at thirty-five I
was a millionaire. Then I ' fell ' in love, and married on
the faith of that emotion, which is always a mistake. ' Fall-
ing in love ' is not loving. I was in the full flush of my
strength and manhood, and was sufficiently proud of myself
to believe that my wife really cared for me. There I was
deceived. She cared for my millions. So it chances that
the only real love I have ever known was the unselfish
* home ' affection, the love of my mother and father and
sister ' out in ole Virginny,' ' a love so sweet it could not
last/ as Shelley sings. Though I believe it can and does
last, for my soul (or whatever that strange part of me
may be which thinks beyond the body) is always running
back to that love with a full sense of certainty that it is still
existent."
His voice sank and seemed to fail him for a moment. He
looked up at the large, bright star shining steadily above
him.
" You are silent, Vesey," he said, after a pause, speak-
ing with an effort at lightness ; " and wisely too, for I know
you have nothing to say that is, nothing that could affect
the position. And you may well ask, if you choose, to what
does all this reminiscent old man's prattle tend ? Simply to
this that you have been urging me for the last six months
to make my will in order to replace the one which was
previously made in favour of my sons, and which is now
destroyed, owing to their deaths before my own, and I tell
you plainly and frankly that I don't know how to make it,
as there is no one in the world whom I care to name as my
heir."
Sir Francis sat gravely ruminating for a moment; then
he said:
" Why not do as I suggested to you once before adopt a
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN IS
child? Find some promising boy, born of decent, healthy,
self-respecting parents, educate him according to your own
ideas, and bring him up to understand his future responsi-
bilities. How would that suit you ? "
" Not at all," replied Helmsley drily. " I have heard of
parents willing to sell their children, but I should scarcely
call them decent or self-respecting. I know of one case
where a couple of peasants sold their son for five pounds
in order to get rid of the trouble of rearing him. He turned
out a famous man, but though he was, in due course, told
his history, he never acknowledged the unnatural vendors
of his flesh and blood as his parents, and quite right too.
No, I have had too much experience of life to try such a
doubtful business as that of adopting a child. The very
fact of adoption by so miserably rich a man as myself would
buy a child's duty and obedience rather than win it. I will
have no heir at all, unless I can discover one whose love
for me is sincerely unselfish and far above all considerations
of wealth or worldly advantage."
" It is rather late in the day, perhaps," said Vesey after
a pause, speaking hesitatingly, " but but you might
marry? "
Helmsley laughed loudly and harshly.
" Marry ! I ! At seventy ! My dear Vesey, you are a
very old friend, and privileged to say what others dare not,
or you would offend me. If I had ever thought of marry-
ing again I should have done so two or three years after my
wife's death, when I was in the fifties, and not waited till
now, when my end, if not actually near, is certainly well in
sight. Though I daresay there are plenty of women who
would marry me even me at my age, knowing the ex-
tent of my income. But do you think I would take one of
them, knowing in my heart that it would be a mere question
of sale and barter ? Not I ! I could never consent to sink
so low in my own estimation of myself. I can honestly
say I have never wronged any woman. I shall not begin
now."
" I don't see why you should take that view of it," mur-
mured Sir Francis placidly. " Life is not lived nowadays
as it was when you first entered upon your career. For one
thing, men last longer and don't give up so soon. Few
consider themselves old at seventy. Why should they?
There's a learned professor at the Pasteur Institute who
14 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
declares we ought all to live to a hundred "and forty. If
he's right, you are still quite a young man."
Helmsley rose from his chair with a slightly impatient
gesture.
" We won't discuss any so-called ' new theories,' " he said.
" They are only echoes of old fallacies. The professor's
statement is merely a modern repetition of the ancient belief
in the elixir of life. Shall we go in ? "
Vesey got up from his lounging position more slowly and
stiffly than Helmsley had done. Some ten years younger
as he was, he was evidently less active.
" Well," he said, as he squared his shoulders and drew
himself erect, " we are no nearer a settlement of what I
consider a most urgent and important affair than when we
began our conversation."
Helmsley shrugged his shoulders.
" When I come back to town, we will go into the question
again," he said.
" You are off at the end of the week ? "
" Yes."
" Going abroad ? "
" I I think so."
The answer was given with a slight touch of hesitation.
" Your last ' function ' of the season is the dance you are
giving to-morrow night, I suppose," continued Sir Francis,
studying with a vague curiosity the spare, slight figure of
his companion, who had turned from him and, with one foot
on the sill of the open French window, was just about to
enter the room beyond.
" Yes. It is Lucy's birthday."
" Ah ! Miss Lucy Sorrel ! How old is she ? "
"Just twenty-one."
And, as he spoke, Helmsley stepped into the apartment
from which the window opened out upon the balcony, and
waited a moment for Vesey to follow.
" She has always been a great favourite of yours," said
Vesey, as he entered. " Now, why "
" Why don't I leave her my fortune, you would ask ? "
interrupted Helmsley, with a touch of sarcasm. " Well,
first, because she is a woman, and she might possibly marry
a fool or a wastrel. Secondly, because though I have
known her ever since she was a child of ten, I have no lik-
ing for her parents or for any of her family connections.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 15
When I first took a fancy to her she was playing about on
the shore at a little seaside place on the Sussex coast, I
thought her a pretty little creature, and have made rather a
pet of her ever since. But beyond giving her trinkets and
bon-bons, and offering her such gaieties and amusements as
are suitable to her age and sex, I have no other intentions
concerning her."
Sir Francis took a comprehensive glance round the mag-
nificent drawing-room in which he now stood, a drawing-
room more like a royal reception-room of the First Empire
than a modern apartment in the modern house of a merely
modern millionaire. Then he chuckled softly to himself,
and a broad smile spread itself among the furrows of his
somewhat severely featured countenance.
" Mrs. Sorrell would be sorry if she knew that," he said.
" I think I really think, Helmsley, that Mrs. Sorrel believes
you are still in the matrimonial market! "
Helmsley 's deeply sunken eyes flashed out a sudden
searchlight of keen and quick inquiry, then his brows grew
dark with a shadow of scorn.
" Poor Lucy ! " he murmured. " She is very unfortunate
in her mother, and equally so in her father. Matt Sorrell
never did anything in his life but bet on the Turf and gam-
ble at Monte Carlo, and it's too late for him to try his hand
at any other sort of business. His daughter is a nice girl
and a pretty one, but now that she has grown from a child
into a woman I shall not be able to do much more for her.
She will have to do something for herself in finding a good
husband."
Sir Francis listened with his head very much on one side.
An owl-like inscrutability of legal wisdom seemed to have
suddenly enveloped him in a cloud. Pulling himself out of
this misty reverie he said abruptly:
" Well good-night ! or rather good-morning ! It's past
one o'clock. Shall I see you again before you leave town? "
" Probably. If not, you will hear from me."
" You won't reconsider the advisability of "
" No, I won't ! " And Helmsley smiled. " I'm quite
obstinate on that point. If I die suddenly, my property
goes to the Crown, if not, why then you will in due course
receive your instructions."
Vesey studied him with thoughtful attention.
" You're a queer fellow, David ! " he said, at last. " But
16 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
I can't help liking you. I only wish you were not quite
so so romantic ! "
" Romantic ! " Helmsley looked amused. " Romance and
I said good-bye to each other years ago.- I admit that I used
to be romantic but I'm not now."
" You are ! " And Sir Francis frowned a legal frown
which soon brightened into a smile. " A man of your age
doesn't want to be loved for himself alone unless he's very
romantic indeed ! And that's what you do want ! and
that's what I'm afraid you won't get, in your position not
as this world goes ! Good-night ! "
"Good-night!"
They walked out of the drawing-room to the head of the
grand staircase, and there shook hands and parted, a man-
servant being in waiting to show Sir Francis to the door.
But late as the hour was, Helmsley did not immediately re-
tire to rest. Long after all his household were in bed and
sleeping, he sat in the hushed solitude of his library, writing
many letters. The library was on a line with the drawing-
room, and its one window, facing the Mall, was thrown open
to admit such air as could ooze through the stifling heat of
the sultry night. Pausing once in the busy work of his
hand and pen, Helmsley looked up and saw the bright star
he had watched from the upper balcony, peering in upon
him steadily like an eye. A weary smile, sadder than scorn,
wavered across his features.
" That's Venus," he murmured half aloud. " The Eden
star of all very young people, the star of Love ! "
CHAPTER II
ON the following evening the cold and frowning aspect of
the mansion in Carlton House Terrace underwent a sudden
transformation. Lights gleamed from every window; the
strip of garden which extended from the rear of the building
to the Mall, was covered in by red and white awning, and
the balcony where the millionaire master of the dwelling had,
some few hours previously, sat talking with his distinguished
legal friend, Sir Francis Vesey, was turned into a kind of
lady's bower, softly carpeted, adorned with palms and hot-
house roses, and supplied with cushioned chairs for the
voluptuous ease of such persons of opposite sexes as might
find their way to this suggestive " flirtation " corner. The
music of a renowned orchestra of Hungarian performers
flowed out of the open doors of the sumptuous ballroom
which was one of the many attractions of the house, and
ran in rhythmic vibrations up the stairs, echoing through
all the corridors like the sweet calling voices of fabled
nymphs and sirens, till, floating still higher, it breathed itself
out to the night, a night curiously heavy and sombre, with
a blackness of sky too dense for any glimmer of stars to
shine through. The hum of talk, the constant ripple of
laughter, the rustle of women's silken garments, the clatter
of plates and glasses in the dining-room, where a costly ball-
supper awaited its devouring destiny, the silvery tripping
and slipping of light dancing feet on a polished floor all
these sounds, intermingling with the gliding seductive meas-
ure of the various waltzes played in quick succession by the
band, created a vague impression of confusion and rest-
lessness in the brain, and David Helmsley himself, the host
and entertainer of the assembled guests, watched the bril-
liant scene from the ballroom door with a weary sense of
melancholy which he knew was unfounded and absurd, yet
which he could not resist, a touch of intense and utter
loneliness, as though he were a stranger in his own home.
" I feel," he mused. " like some very poor old fellow asked
in by chance for a few minutes, just to see the fun ! "
He smiled, yet was unable to banish his depression.
17
18 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
The bare fact of the worthlessness of wealth was all at
once borne in upon him with overpowering- weight. This
magnificent house which his hard earnings had purchased,
this ballroom with its painted panels and sculptured friezes,
crowded just now with kaleidoscope pictures of men and
women whirling round and round in a maze of music and
movement, the thousand precious and costly things he had
gathered about him in his journey through life, must all
pass out of his possession in a few brief years, and there was
not a soul who loved him or whom he loved, to inherit them
or value them for his sake. A few brief years ! And
then darkness. The lights gone out, the music silenced
the dancing done ! And the love that he had dreamed
of when he was a boy love, strong and great and divine
enough to outlive death where was it? A sudden sigh
escaped him
"Dear Mr. Helmsley, you look so very tired ! " said a
woman's purring voice at his ear. "Do go and rest in your
own room for a few minutes before supper! You have
been so kind ! Lucy is quite touched and overwhelmed by
all your goodness to her, no lover could do more for a girl,
I'm sure \ But really you must spare yourself ! What
should we do without you ! "
" What indeed ! " he replied, somewhat drily, as he looked
down at the speaker, a cumbrous matron attired in an over-
frilled and over-flounced costume of pale grey, which deli-
cate Quakerish colour rather painfully intensified the mottled
purplish-red of her face. " But I am not at all tired, Mrs.
Sorrell, I assure you! Don't trouble yourself about me
I'm very well."
"Are you ? " And Mrs. Sorrel looked volumes of ten-
derest insincerity. "Ah! But you know we old people
must be careful ! Young folks can do anything and every-
thing but we, at our age, need to be over-particular ! "
"You shouldn't call yourself old, Mrs. Sorrel," said
Helmsley, seeing that she expected this from him, " you're
quite a young woman."
Mrs. Sorrel gave a little deprecatory laugh.
" Oh dear no ! " she said, in a tone which meant " Oh
dear yes ! " "I wasn't married at sixteen, you know ! "
" No ? You surprise me ! "
Mrs. Sorrell peered at him from under her fat eyelids
with a slightly dubious air. She was never quite sure in
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 19
her own mind as to the way in which " old Gold-Dust," as
she privately called him, regarded her. An aged man, bur-
dened with an excess of wealth, was privileged to have what
are called " humours," and certainly he sometimes had them.
It was necessary or so Mrs. Sorrel thought to deal with
him delicately and cautiously neither with too much levity,
nor with an overweighted seriousness. One's plan of con-
duct with a multi-millionaire required to be thought out with
sedulous care, and entered upon with circumspection. And
Mrs. Sorrell did not attempt even as much as a youthful
giggle at Helmsley's half-sarcastically implied compliment
with its sarcastic implication as to the ease with which she
supported her years and superabundance of flesh tissue.
She merely heaved a short sigh.
" I was just one year younger than Lucy is to-day," she
said, " and I really thought myself quite an old bride ! I
was a mother at twenty-one."
Helmsley found nothing to say in response to this inter-
esting statement, particularly as he had often heard it before.
" Who is Lucy dancing with ? " he asked irrelevantly, by
way of diversion.
" Oh, my dear Mr. Helmsley, who is she not dancing
with ! " and Mrs. Sorrel visibly swelled with maternal pride.
" Every young man in the room has rushed at her posi-
tively rushed ! and her programme was full five minutes
after she arrived ! Isn't she looking lovely to-night ? a
perfect sylph ! Do tell me you think she is a sylph ! "
David's old eyes twinkled.
" I have never seen a sylph, Mrs. Sorrel, so I cannot
make the comparison," he said ; " but Lucy is a very beau-
tiful girl, and I think she is looking her best this evening.
Her dress becomes her. She ought to find a good husband
easily."
"She ought, indeed she ought! But it is very dif-
cult very, very difficult! All the men marry for money
nowadays, not for love ah! how different it was when
you and I were young, Mr. Helmsley ! Love was every-
thing then, and there was so much romance and poetical
sentiment ! "
" Romance is a snare, and poetical sentiment a delusion,"
said Helmsley, with sudden harshness. " I proved that in
my marriage. I should think you had equally proved it in
yours ! "
20 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Mrs. Sorrell recoiled a little timorously. " Old Gold-
Dust " often said unpleasant things truthful, but emi-
nently tactless, and she felt that he was likely to say some
of those unpleasant things now. Therefore she gave a
fluttering gesture of relief and satisfaction as the waltz-
music just then ceased, and her daughter's figure, tall, slight,
and marvellously graceful, detached itself from the swaying
crowd in the ballroom and came towards her.
" Dearest child ! " she exclaimed effusively, " are you not
quite tired out ? "
The " dearest child " shrugged her white shoulders and
laughed.
" Nothing tires me, mother you know that ! " she an-
swered then with a sudden change from her air of care-
less indifference to one of coaxing softness, she turned to
Helmsley.
"You must be tired!" she said. "Why have you been
standing so long at the ballroom door ? "
" I have been watching you, Lucy," he replied gently.
" It has been a pleasure for me to see you dance. I am too
old to dance with you myself, otherwise I should grudge all
the young men the privilege."
" I will dance with you, if you like," she said, smiling.
" There is one more set of Lancers before supper. Will you
be my partner? "
He shook his head.
" Not even to please you, my child ! " and taking her
hand he patted it kindly. " There is no fool like an old
fool, I know, but I am not quite so foolish as that."
" I see nothing at all foolish in it," pouted Lucy. " You
are my host, and it's my coming-of-age party."
Helmsley laughed.
" So it is ! And the festival must not be spoilt by any
incongruities. It will be quite sufficient honour for me to
take you in to supper."
She looked down at the flowers she wore in her bodice,
and played with their perfumed petals.
" I like you better than any man here," she said suddenly.
A swift shadow crossed his face. Glancing over his
shoulder he saw that Mrs. Sorrel had moved away. Then
the cloud passed from his brow, and the thought that for a
moment had darkened his mind, yielded to a kinder im-
pulse.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 21
" You flatter me, my dear," he said quietly. " But I
am such an old friend of yours that I can take your com-
pliment in the right spirit without having my head turned
by it. Indeed, I can hardly believe that it is eleven years
ago since I saw you playing about on the sea-shore as a
child. You seem to have grown up like a magic rose, all
at once from a tiny bud into a full blossom. Do you remem-
ber how I first made your acquaintance ? "
"As if I should ever forget ! " and she raised her lovely,
large dark eyes to his. " I had been paddling about in the
sea, and I had lost my shoes and stockings. You found
them for me, and you put them on ! "
" True ! " and he smiled. " You had very wet little feet,
all rosy with the salt of the sea and your long hair was
blown about in thick curls round the brightest, sweetest little
face in the world. I thought you were the prettiest little
girl I had ever seen in my life, and I think just the same of
you now."
A pale blush flitted over her cheeks, and she dropped him
a demure curtsy.
" Thank you ! " she said. "And if you won't_dance the
Lancers, which are just beginning, will you sit them out
with me ? "
" Gladly ! " and he offered her his arm. " Shall we go
up to the drawing-room ? It is cooler there than here."
She assented, and they slowly mounted the staircase to-
gether. Some of the evening's guests lounging about in
the hall and loitering near the ballroom door, watched them
go, and exchanged significant glances. One tall woman
with black, eyes and a viperish mouth, who commanded a
certain exclusive " set " by virtue of being the wife of a
dissolute Earl whose house was used as a common gam-
bling resort, found out Mrs. Sorrel sitting among a group
of female gossips in a corner, and laid a patronising hand
upon her shoulder.
"Do tell me ! " she softly breathed. "Is it a case ? "
Mrs. Sorrel began to flutter immediately.
"Dearest Lady Larford ! What do you mean ! "
" Surely you know ! " And the wide mouth of her lady-
ship grew still wider, and the black eyes more steely.
" Will Lucy get him, do you think ? "
Mrs. Sorrel fidgeted uneasily in her chair. Other people
were listening.
22 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Really," she mumbled nervously " really, dear Lady
Larford ! you put things so very plainly ! I I cannot
say! you see he is more like her father "
Lady Larford showed all her white teeth in an expansive
grin.
" Oh, that's very safe ! " she said. " The ' father ' bus-
iness works very well when sufficient cash is put in with it.
I know several examples of perfect matrimonial bliss be-
tween old men and young girls absolutely perfect! One
is bound to be happy with heaps of money ! "
And keeping her teeth still well exposed, Lady Larford
glided away, her skirts exhaling an odour of civet-cat as
she moved. Mrs. Sorrel gazed after her helplessly, in a
state of worry and confusion, for she instinctively felt that
her ladyship's pleasure would now be to tell everybody
whom she knew, that Lucy Sorrel, " the new girl who was
presented at Court last night," was having a " try " for the
Helmsley millions ; and that if the " try " was not successful,
no one living would launch more merciless and bitter jests
at the failure and defeat of the Sorrels than this same titled
" leader " of a section of the aristocratic gambling set. For
there has never been anything born under the sun crueller
than a twentieth-century woman of fashion to her own sex
except perhaps a starving hyaena tearing asunder its living
prey.
Meanwhile, David Helmsley and his young companion
had reached the drawing-room, which they found quite un-
occupied. The window-balcony, festooned with rose-silk
draperies and flowers, and sparkling with tiny electric
lamps, offered itself as an inviting retreat for a quiet chat,
and within it they seated themselves, Helmsley rather wear-
ily, and Lucy Sorrel with the queenly air and dainty rustle
of soft garments habitual to the movements of a well-dressed
woman.
" I have not thanked you half enough," she began, " for
all the delightful things you have done for my birthday "
" Pray spare me ! " he interrupted, with a deprecatory
gesture " I would rather you said nothing."
" Oh, but I must say something ! " she went on. " You
are so generous and good in yourself that of course you
cannot bear to be thanked I know that but if you will
persist in giving so much pleasure to a girl who, but for
you, would have no pleasure at all in her life, you must ex-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 3
pect that girl to express her feelings somehow. Now,
mustn't you ? "
She leaned forward, smiling at him with an arch expres-
sion of sweetness and confidence. He looked at her atten-
tively, but said nothing.
" When I got your lovely present the first thing this
morning," she continued, " I could hardly believe my eyes.
Such an exquisite necklace! such perfect pearls! Dear
Mr. Helmsley, you quite spoil me! I'm not worth all the
kind thought and trouble you take on my behalf."
Tears started to her eyes, and her lips quivered. Helmsley
saw her emotion with only a very slight touch of concern.
Her tears were merely sensitive, he thought, welling up
from a young and grateful heart, and as the prime cause
of that young heart's gratitude he delicately forbore to
notice them. This chivalrous consideration on his part
caused some little disappointment to the shedder of the
tears, but he could not be expected to know that.
" I'm glad you are pleased with my little gift," he said
simply, " though I'm afraid it is quite a conventional and
ordinary one. Pearls and girls always go together, in fact
as in rhyme. After all, they are the most suitable jewels
for the young for they are emblems of everything that
youth should be white and pure and innocent."
Her breath came and went quickly.
" Do you think youth is always like that? " she asked.
" Not always, but surely most often," he answered.
" At any rate, I wish to believe in the simplicity and good-
ness of all young things."
She was silent. Helmsley studied her thoughtfully,
even critically. And presently he came to the conclusion
that as a child she had been much prettier than she now
was as a woman. Yet her present phase of loveliness was of
the loveliest type. No fault could be found with the perfect
oval of her face, her delicate white-rose skin, her small
seduttive mouth, curved in the approved line of the " Cupid's
bow," her deep, soft, bright eyes, fringed with long lashes
a shade darker than the curling waves of her abundant
brown hair. But her features in childhood had expressed
something more than the beauty which had developed with
the passing of years. A sweet affection, a tender earnest-
ness, and an almost heavenly candour had made the at-
tractiveness of her earlier age quite irresistible, but now
24 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
or so Helmsley fancied that fine and subtle charm had
gone. He was half ashamed of himself for allowing this
thought to enter his mind, and quickly dismissing it, he
said
" How did your presentation go off last night ? Was it
a full Court?"
" I believe so," she replied listlessly, unfurling a painted
fan and waving it idly to and fro " I cannot say that I
found it very interesting. The whole thing bored me
dreadfully."
He smiled.
" Bored you ! Is it possible to be bored at twenty-one ? "
" I think every one, young or old, is bored more or less
nowadays," she said. " Boredom is a kind of microbe in
the air. Most society functions are deadly dull. And
where's the fun of being presented at Court? If a woman
wears a pretty gown, all the other women try to tread on
it and tear it off her back if they can. And the Royal
people only speak to their own special ' set,' and not always
the best-looking or best-mannered set either."
Helmsley looked amused.
" Well, it's what is called an entree into the world," he
replied. " For my own part, I have never been ' presented,''
and never intend to be. I see too much of Royalty privately,
in the dens of finance."
" Yes all the kings and princes wanting to borrow
money," she said quickly and flippantly. "And you must
despise the lot. You are a real ' King,' bigger than any
crowned head, because you can do just as you like, and
you are not the servant of Governments or peoples. I am
sure you must be the happiest man in the world ! "
She plucked off a rose from a flowering rose-tree near
her, and began to wrench out its petals with a quick, nervous
movement. Helmsley watched her with a vague sense of
annoyance.
" I am no more happy," he said suddenly, " than that rose
you are picking to pieces, though it has never done you any
harm."
She started, and flushed, then laughed.
"Oh, the poor little rose!" she exclaimed "I'm sorry!
I've had so many roses to-day, that I don't think about
them. I suppose it's wrong."
" It's not wrong," he answered quietly ; " it's merely the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 5
fault of those who give you more roses than you know how
to appreciate."
She looked at him inquiringly, but could not fathom his
expression.
" Still," he went on, " I would not have your life deprived
of so much as one rose. And there is a very special rose
that does not grow in earthly gardens, which I should like
you to find and wear on your heart, Lucy, I hope I shall
see you in the happy possession of it before I die, I mean
the rose of love."
She lifted her head, and her eyes shone coldly.
" Dear Mr. Helmsley," she said, " I don't believe in
love!"
A flash of amazement, almost of anger, illumined his worn
features.
" You don't believe in love ! " he echoed. " O child, what
do you believe in, then ? "
The passion of his tone moved her to a surprised smile.
" Well, I believe in being happy while you can," she re-
plied tranquilly. " And love isn't happiness. All my girl
and men friends who are what they call ' in love ' seem to
be thoroughly miserable. Many of them get perfectly ill
with jealousy, and they never seem to know whether what
they call their ' love ' will last from one day to another. I
shouldn't care to live at such a. high tension of nerves. My
own mother and father married ' for love,' so I am always
told, and I'm sure a more quarrelsome couple never ex-
isted. I believe in friendship more than love."
As she spoke, Helmsley looked at her steadily, his face
darkening with a shadow of weary scorn.
" I see ! " he murmured coldly. " You do not care to
over-fatigue the heart's action by unnecessary emotion.
Quite right! If we were all as wise as you are at your
age, we might live much longer than we do. You are very
sensible, Lucy! more sensible than I should have thought
possible for so young a woman."
She gave him a swift, uneasy glance. She was not quite
sure of his mood.
" Friendship," he continued, speaking in a slow, medi-
tative tone, " is a good thing, it may be, as you suggest,
safer and sweeter than love. But even friendship, to be
worthy of its name, must be quite unselfish, and unselfish-
ness, in both love and friendship, is rare."
26 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Very, very rare ! " she sighed.
" You will be thinking of marriage some day, if you are
not thinking of it now," he went on. " Would a husband's
friendship friendship and no more satisfy you ? "
She gazed at him candidly.
" I am sure it would ! " she said ; " I'm not the least bit
sentimental."
He regarded her with a grave and musing steadfastness.
A very close observer might have seen a line of grim
satire near the corners of his mouth, and a gleam of irritable
impatience in his sunken eyes ; but these signs of inward
feeling were not apparent to the girl, who, more than
usually satisfied with herself and over-conscious of her
own beauty, considered that she was saying just the very
thing that he would expect and like her to say.
" You do not crave for love, then ? " he queried. " You
do not wish to know anything of the ' divine rapture falling
out of heaven/ the rapture that has inspired all the artists
and poets in the world, and that has probably had the largest
share in making the world's history ? "
She gave a little shrug of amused disdain.
" Raptures never last ! " and she laughed. " And artists
and poets are dreadful people! I've seen a few of them,
and don't want to see them any more. They are always very
untidy, and they have the most absurd ideas of their own
abilities. You can't have them in society, you know!
you simply can't! If I had a house of my own I would
never have a poet inside it."
The grim lines round Helmsley's mouth hardened, and
made him look almost cruelly saturnine. Yet he murmured
under his breath :
" ' All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame;
Are but the ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame ! ' '
" What's that? " she asked quickly.
" Poetry ! " he answered, " by a man named Coleridge.
He is dead now. He used to take opium, and he did not
understand business matters. He was never rich in anything
but thoughts."
She smiled brilliantly.
" How silly ! " she said.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 27
" Yes, he was very silly," agreed Helmsley, watching- her
narrowly from under his half-closed eyelids. " But most
thinkers are silly, even when they don't take opium. They
believe in Love."
She coloured. She caught the sarcastic inflection in his
tone. But she was silent.
" Most men who have lived and worked and suffered,"
he went on, " come to know before they die that without
a great and true love in their lives, their work is wasted,
and their sufferings are in vain. But there are exceptions,
of course. Some get on very well without love at all, and
perhaps these are the most fortunate."
" I am sure they are ! " she said decisively.
He picked up two or three of the rose-petals her restless
fingers had scattered, and laying them in his palm looked
at the curved, pink, shell-like shapes abstractedly.
" Well, they are saved a good deal of trouble," he an-
swered quietly. " They spare themselves many a healing
heart-ache and many purifying tears. But when they grow
old, and when they find that, after all, the happiest folks
in the world are still those who love, or who have loved
and have been loved, even though the loved ones are per-
haps no longer here, they may I do not say they will
possibly regret that they never experienced that marvellous
sense of absorption into another's life of which Mrs. Brown-
ing writes in her letters to her husband. Do you know
what she says ? "
" I'm afraid I don't! " and she smothered a slight yawn
as she spoke. He fixed his eyes intently upon her.
" She tells her lover her feeling in these words: 'There
is nothing in you that does not draw all out of me.'
That is the true emotion of love, the one soul must draw
all out of the other, and the best of all in each."
" But the Brownings were a very funny couple," and the
fair Lucy arched her graceful throat and settled more
becomingly in its place a straying curl of her glossy brown
hair. " I know an old gentleman who used to see them
together when they lived in Florence, and he says they were
so queer-looking that people used to laugh at them. It's
all very well to love and to be in love, but if you look odd
and people laugh at you, what's the good of it? "
Helmsley rose from his seat abruptly.
" True ! " he exclaimed. " You're right, Lucy ! Little
28 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
girl, you're quite right! What's the good of it! Upon
my word, you're a most practical woman! you'll make
a capital wife for a business man ! " Then as the gay
music of the band below-stairs suddenly ceased, to give place
to the noise of chattering voices and murmurs of laughter,
he glanced at his watch.
" Supper-time ! " he said. " Let me take you down. And
after supper, will you give me ten minutes' chat with you
alone in the library ! "
She looked up eagerly, with a flush of pink in her cheeks.
" Of course I will ! With pleasure ! "
" Thank you ! " And he drew her white-gloved hand
through his arm. " I am leaving town next week, and I
have something important to say to you before I go. You
will allow me to say it privately ? "
She smiled assent, and leaned on his arm with a light,
confiding pressure, to which he no more responded than
if his muscles had been rigid iron. Her heart beat quickly
with a sense of gratified vanity and exultant expectancy,
but his throbbed slowly and heavily, chilled by the double
frost of age and solitude.
CHAPTER III
To see people eating is understood to be a very interesting
and "brilliant" spectacle, and however insignificant you
may be in the social world, you get a reflex of its " bril-
liancy " when you allow people in their turn to see you
eating likewise. A well-cooked, well-served supper is a
" function," in which every man and woman who can move
a jaw takes part, and though in plain parlance there is
nothing uglier than the act of putting food into one's mouth,
we have persuaded ourselves that it is a pretty and pleasant
performance enough for us to ask our friends to see us
do it. Byron's idea that human beings should eat privately
and apart, was not altogether without aesthetic justification,
though according to medical authority such a procedure
would be very injurious to health. The slow mastication
of a meal in the presence of cheerful company is said to
promote healthy digestion moreover, custom and habit
make even the most incongruous things acceptable, there-
fore the display of tables, crowded with food-stuffs and
surrounded by eating, drinking, chattering and perspiring
men and women, does not affect us to any sense of the
ridiculous or the unseemly. On the contrary, when some
of us see such tables, we exclaim " How lovely ! " or " How
delightful ! " according to our own pet vocabulary, or to
our knowledge of the humour of our host or hostess, or
perhaps, if we are young cynics, tired of life before we
have confronted one of its problems, we murmur, " Not
so bad ! " or " Fairly decent ! " when we are introduced to
the costly and appetising delicacies heaped up round masses
of flowers and silver for our consideration and entertain-
ment. At the supper given by David Helmsley for Lucy
Sorrel's twenty-first birthday, there was, however, no note
of dissatisfaction the blase breath of the callow 'critic
emitted no withering blight, and even latter-day satirists
in their teens, frosted like tender pease-blossom before their
prime, condescended to approve the lavish generosity, com-
bined with the perfect taste, which made the festive scene
a glowing picture of luxury and elegance. But Helmsley
29
SO THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
himself, as he led his beautiful partner, " the " guest of
the evening, to the head of the principal table, and took his
place beside her, was conscious of no personal pleasure,
but only of a dreary feeling which seemed lonelier than
loneliness and more sorrowful than sorrow. The wearied
scorn that he had lately begun to entertain for himself,
his wealth, his business, his influence, and all his surround-
ings, was embittered by a disappointment none the less
keen because he had dimly foreseen it. The child he had
petted, the girl he had indulged after the fashion of a father
who seeks to make the world pleasant to a young life just
entering it, she, even she, was, or seemed to be, practically
as selfish as any experienced member of the particular set
of schemers and intriguers who compose what is sometimes
called "society " in the present day. He had no wish to
judge her harshly, but he was too old and knew too much
of life to be easily deceived in his estimation of character.
A very slight hint was sufficient for him. He had seen a
great deal of Lucy Sorrel as a child she had always been
known as his " little favourite " but since she had attended
a fashionable school at Brighton, his visits to her home had
been less frequent, and he had had very few opportunities
of becoming acquainted with the gradual development of
her mental and moral self. During her holidays he had
given her as many little social pleasures and gaieties as he
had considered might be acceptable to her taste and age,
but on these occasions other persons had always been pres-
sent, and Lucy herself had worn what are called " company "
manners, which in her case were singularly charming and
attractive, so much so, indeed, that it would have seemed
like heresy to question their sincerity. But now whether
it was the slight hint dropped by Sir Francis Vesey on the
previous night as to Mrs. Sorrel's match-making proclivities,
or whether it was a scarcely perceptible suggestion of some-
thing more flippant and assertive than usual in the air and
"bearing of Lucy herself that had awakened his suspicions,
he was certainly disposed to doubt, for the first time in all
his knowledge of her, the candid nature of the girl for
whom he had hitherto entertained, half-unconsciously, an
almost parental affection. He sat by her side at supper,
seldom speaking, but always closely observant. He saw
everything ; he watched the bright, exulting flash of her eyes
as she glanced at her various friends, both near her and at a
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 31*
distance, and he fancied he detected in their responsive looks
a subtle inquiry and meaning which he would not allow him-
self to investigate. And while the bubbling talk and laughter
eddied round him, he made up his mind to combat the lurk-
ing distrust that teased his brain, and either to disperse it
altogether or else confirm it beyond all mere shadowy mis-
giving. Some such thought as this had occurred to him,
albeit vaguely, when he had, on a sudden unpremeditated
impulse, asked Lucy to give him a few minutes' private
conversation with her after supper, but now, what had pre-
viously -been a mere idea formulated itself into a fixed
resolve.
" For what, after all, does it matter to me ? " he mused.
" Why should I hesitate to destroy a dream ? Why should
I care if another rainbow bubble of life breaks and disap-
pears? I am too old to have ideals so most people would
tell me. And yet with the grave open and ready to
receive me, I still believe that love and truth and purity
surely exist in women's hearts if one could only know
just where to find the women ! "
" Dear King David ! " murmured a cooing voice at his
ear. " Won't you drink my health ? "
He started as from a reverie. Lucy Sorrel was bending
towards him, her face glowing with gratified vanity and
self-elation.
" Of course ! " he answered, and rising to his feet, he
lifted his glass full of as yet untasted champagne, at which
action on his part the murmur of voices suddenly ceased
and all eyes were turned upon him. " Ladies and gentle-
men," he said, in his soft, tired voice, " I beg to propose
the health of Miss Lucy Sorrel ! She has lived twenty-one
years on this interesting old planet of ours, and has found
it, so far, not altogether without charm. I have had seventy
years of it, and strange as it may seem to you all, I am
able to keep a few of the illusions and delusions I had when
I was even younger than our charming guest of the evening.
I still believe in good women ! I think I have one sitting
at my right hand to-night. L take for granted that her
nature is as fair as her face ; and I hope that every recurring
anniversary of this day may bring her just as much happi-
ness as she deserves. I ask you to drink to her health,
wealth, and prosperity ; and may she soon find a good
husband ! "
S2 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Applause and laughter followed this conventional little
speech, and the toast was honoured in the usual way, Lucy
bowing and smiling her thanks to all present. And then
there ensued one of those strange impressions one might
almost call them telepathic instead of atmospheric effects
which, subtly penetrating the air, exerted an inexplicable
influence on the mind ; the expectancy of some word never
to be uttered, the waiting for some incident never to take
place. People murmured and smiled, and looked and
laughed, but there was an evident embarrassment among
them, an under-sense of something like disappointment.
The fortunately commonplace and methodical habits of
waiters, whose one idea is to keep their patrons busy eating
and drinking, gradually overcame this insidious restraint,
and the supper went on gaily till at one o'clock the Hun-
garian band again began to play, and all the young people,
eager for their " extras " in the way of dances, quickly
rose from the various tables and began to crowd out towards
the ballroom. In the general dispersal, Lucy having left
him for a partner to whom she had promised the first
" extra," Helmsley stopped to speak to one or two men well
known to him in the business world. He was still convers-
ing with these when Mrs. Sorrel, not perceiving him in
the corner where he stood apart with his friend, trotted
past him with an agitated step and flushed countenance,
and catching her daughter by the skirt of her dress as that
young lady moved on with the pushing throng in front of
her, held her back for a second.
" What have you done ? " she demanded querulously, in
not too soft a tone. " Were you careful ? Did you manage
him properly ? What did he say to you ? "
Lucy's beautiful face hardened, and her lips met in a
thin, decidedly bad-tempered line.
" He said nothing to the purpose," she replied coldly.
" There was no time. But " and she lowered her voice
" he wants to speak to me alone presently. I'm going to
him in the library after this dance."
She passed on, and Mrs. Sorrel, heaving a deep sigh,
drew out a black pocket-fan and fanned herself vigorously.
Wreathing her face with social smiles, she made her way
slowly out of the supper-room, happily unaware that Helms-
ley had been near enough to hear every word that had
passed. And hearing, he had understood; but he went on
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 33
talking to his friends in the quiet, rather slow way which
was habitual to him, and when he left them there was noth-
ing about him to indicate that he was in a suppressed state
of nervous excitement which made him for the moment
quite forget that he was an old man. Impetuous youth itself
never felt a keener blaze of vitality in the veins than he did
at that moment, but it was the withering heat of indignation
that warmed him not the tender glow of love. The clarion
sweetness of the dance-music, now pealing loudly on the
air, irritated his nerves, the lights, the flowers, the bril-
liancy of the whole scene jarred upon his soul, what was
it all but sham, he thought! a show in the mere name of
friendship! an ephemeral rose of pleasure with a worm
at its core ! Impatiently he shook himself free of those who
sought to detain him and went at once to his library, a
sombre, darkly-furnished apartment, large enough to seem
gloomy by contrast with the gaiety and cheerfulness which
were dominant throughout the rest of the house that even-
ing. Only two or three shaded lamps were lit, and these
cast a ghostly flicker on the row of books that lined the
walls. A few names in raised letters of gold relief upon
the backs of some of the volumes, asserted themselves, or
so he fancied, with unaccustomed prominence. " Mon-
taigne," " Seneca," " Rochefoucauld," " Goethe," " Byron,"
and " The Sonnets of William Shakespeare," stood forth
from the surrounding darkness as though demanding special
notice.
" Voices of the dead ! " he murmured half aloud. " I
should have learned wisdom from you all long ago ! What
have the great geniuses of the world lived for? For what
purpose did they use their brains and pens? Simply to
teach mankind the folly of too much faith ! Yet we continue
to delude ourselves and the worst of it is that we do it
wilfully and knowingly. We are perfectly aware that when
we trust, we shall be deceived yet we trust on! Even I
old and frail and about to die cannot rid myself of a
belief in God, and in the ultimate happiness of each man's
destiny. And yet, so far as my own experience serves me,
I have nothing to go upon absolutely nothing ! "
He gave an unconscious gesture half of scorn, half of
despair and paced the room slowly up and down. A life
of toil a life rounding into worldly success, but blank of
all love and heart's comfort was this to be the only con-
34 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
elusion to his career? Of what use, then, was it to have
lived at all ?
" People talk foolishly of a ' declining birth-rate,' " he
went on ; " yet if, according to the modern scientist, all
civilisations are only so much output of wasted human
energy, doomed to pass into utter oblivion, and human be-
ings only live but to die and there an end, of what avail
is it to be born at all? Surely it is but wanton cruelty to
take upon ourselves the responsibility of continuing a race
whose only consummation is rottenness in unremembered
graves ! "
At that moment the door opened and Lucy Sorrel entered
softly, with a pretty air of hesitating timidity which became
her style of beauty excellently well. As he looked up and
saw her standing half shyly on the thresold, a white, light,
radiant figure expressing exquisitely fresh youth, grace and
innocence ? yes ! surely that wondrous charm which
hung about her like a delicate atmosphere redolent with
the perfume of spring, could only be the mystic ex-
halation of a pure mind adding spiritual lustre to the ma-
terial attraction of a perfect body, his heart misgave him.
Already he was full of remorse lest so much as a passing
thought in his brain might have done her unmerited wrong.
He advanced to meet her, and his voice was full of kindness
as he said :
" Is your dance quite over, Lucy ? Are you sure I am
not selfishly depriving you of pleasure by asking you to
come away from all your young friends just to talk to me
for a few minutes in this dull room ? "
She raised her beautiful eyes confidingly.
"Dear Mr. Helmsley, there can be no greater pleasure
for me than to talk to you ! " she answered sweetly.
His expression changed and hardened. " That's not true,"
he thought ; " and she knows it, and / know it." Aloud
he said : " Very prettily spoken, Lucy ! But I am aware of
my own tediousness and I won't detain you long. Will
you sit down ? " and he offered her an easy-chair, into
which she sank with the soft slow grace of a nestling
bird. " I only want to say just a few words, such as your
father might say to you if he were so inclined about your
future."
She gave him a swift glance of keen inquiry.
" My future ? " she echoed.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 35
" Yes. Have you thought of it at all yourself ? "
She heaved a little sigh, smiled, and shook her head in
the negative.
" I'm afraid I'm very silly," she confessed plaintively.
"I never think!"
He drew up another armchair and sat down opposite to
her.
" Well, try to do so now for five minutes at least," he
said, gently. " I am going away to-morrow or next day for
a considerable time "
A quick flush flew over her face.
" Going away ! " she exclaimed. " But not far ? "
" That depends on my own whim," he replied, watching
her attentively. " I shall certainly be absent from England
for a year, perhaps longer. But, Lucy, you were such
a little pet of mine in your childhood that I cannot help
taking an interest in you now you are grown up. That is,
I think, quite natural. And I should like to feel that you
have some good and safe idea of your own happiness in
life before I leave you."
She stared, her face fell.
" I have no ideas at all," she answered after a pause, the
corners of her red mouth drooping in petulant, spoilt-child
fashion, " and if you go away I shall have no pleasures
either!"
He smiled.
" I'm sorry you take it that way," he said. " But I'm
nearing the end of my tether, Lucy, and increasing age
makes me restless. I want change of scene and change
of surroundings. I am thoroughly tired of my present
condition."
" Tired ? " and her eyes expressed whole volumes of
amazement " Not really ? You tired of your present
condition? With all your money? "
" With all my money ! " he answered drily, " Money
is not the elixir of happiness, Lucy, though many people
seem to think it is. But I prefer not to talk about myself.
Let me speak of you. What do you propose to do with
your life ? You will marry, of course ? "
" I I suppose so," she faltered.
"Is there any one you specially favour? any young
fellow who loves you, or whom you are inclined to love
and who wants a start in the world? If there is, send
S6 - THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
him to me, and, if he has anything in him, I'll make myself
answerable for his prosperity."
She looked up with a cold, bright steadfastness.
" There is no one," she said. " Dear Mr. Helmsley, you
are very good, but I assure you I have never fallen in love
in my life. As I told you before supper, I don't believe in
that kind of nonsense. And I I want nothing. Of course
I know my father, and mother are poor, and that they
have kept up a sort of position which ranks them among
the ' shabby genteel,' and I suppose if I don't marry quickly
I shall have to do something for a living "
She broke off, embarrassed by the keenness of the gaze
he fixed upon her.
" Many good, many beautiful, many delicate women ' do
something,' as you put it, for a living," he said slowly.
" But the fight is always fierce, and the end is sometimes
bitter. It is better for a woman that she should be safe-
guarded by a husband's care and tenderness than that she
should attempt to face the world alone."
A flashing smile dimpled the corners of her mouth.
" Why, yes, I quite agree with you," she retorted play-
fully. " But if no husband come forward, then it cannot
be helped ! "
He rose, and, pushing away his chair, walked up and
down in silence.
She watched him with a sense of growing irritability, and
her heart beat with uncomfortable quickness. Why did
he seem to hesitate so long? Presently he stopped in his
slow movement to and fro, and stood looking down upon
her with a fixed intensity which vaguely troubled her.
" It is difficult to advise," he said, " and it is still more
difficult to control. In your case I have no right to do
either. I am an old man, and you are a very young woman.
You are beginning your life, I am ending mine. Yet,
young as you are, you say with apparent sincerity that
you do not believe in love. Now I, though I have loved and
lost, though I have loved and have been cruelly deceived
in love, still believe that if the true, heavenly passion be
fully and faithfully experienced, it must prove the chief
joy, if not the only one, of life. You think otherwise, and
perhaps you correctly express ttie opinion of the younger
generation of men and women. These appear to crowd more
emotion and excitement into their lives than ever was at-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 37
tained or attainable in the lives of their forefathers, but they
do not, or so it seems to me, secure for themselves as much
peace of mind and satisfaction of soul as were the inheritance
of bygone folk whom we now call ' old-fashioned.' Still,
you may be right in depreciating the power of love from
your point of view. All the same, I should be sorry to see
you entering into a loveless marriage."
For a moment she was silent, then she suddenly plunged
into speech.
" Dear Mr. Helmsley, do you really think all the silly
sentiment talked and written about love is any good in
marriage? We know so much nowadays, and the disillu-
sion of matrimony is so very complete ! One has only to
read the divorce cases in the newspapers to see what mis-
takes people make "
He winced as though he had been stung.
" Do you read the divorce cases, Lucy ? " he asked. " You
a mere girl like you ? "
She looked surprised at the regret and pain in his tone.
" Why, of course ! One must read the papers to keep
up with all the things that are going on. And the divorce
cases have always such startling headings, in such big
print ! one is obliged to read them positively obliged ! "
She laughed carelessly, and settled herself more cosily
in her chair.
" You nearly always find that it is the people who were
desperately in love with each other before marriage who
behave disgracefully and are perfectly sick of each other
afterwards," she went on. " They wanted perpetual poetry
and moonlight, and of course they find they can't have it.
Now, I don't want poetry or moonlight, I hate both!
Poetry makes me sleepy, and moonlight gives me neuralgia.
I should like a husband who would be a friend to me a
real kind friend ! some one who would be able to take care
of me, and be nice to me always some one much older
than myself, who was wise and strong and clever "
" And rich," said Helmsley quietly. " Don't forget that !
Very rich ! "
She glanced at him furtively, conscious of a slight nervous
qualm. Then, rapidly reviewing the situation in her shallow
brain, she accepted his remark smilingly.
" Oh, well, of course ! " she said. " It's not pleasant to live
without plenty of money."
S8 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
He turned from her abruptly, and resumed his leisurely
walk to and fro, much to her inward vexation. He was
becoming fidgety, she decided, old people were really very
trying! Suddenly, with the air of a man arriving at an
important decision, he sat down again in the armchair oppo-
site her own, and leaning indolently back against the cushion,
surveyed her with a calm, critical, entirely businesslike
manner, much as he would have looked at a Jew com-
pany-promoter, who sought his aid to float a " bogus "
scheme.
" It's not pleasant to live without plenty of money, you
think," he said, repeating her last words slowly. " Well !
The pleasantest time of my life was when I did not own a
penny in the bank, and when I had to be very sharp in
order to earn enough for my day's dinner. There was a
zest, a delight, a fine glory in the mere effort to live that
brought out the strength of every quality I possessed. I
learned to know myself, which is a farther reaching wisdom
than is found in knowing others. I had ideals then, and
old as I am, I have them still."
He paused. She was silent. Her eyes were lowered, and
she played idly with her painted fan.
" I wonder if it would surprise you," he went on, " to
know that I have made an ideal of you?"
She looked up with a smile.
" Really ? Have you ? I'm afraid I shall prove a dis-
appointment ! "
He did not answer by the obvious compliment which she
felt she had a right to expect. He kept his gaze fixed
steadily on her face, and his shaggy eyebrows almost met
in the deep hollow which painful thought had ploughed
along his forehead.
" I have made," he said, " an ideal in my mind of the
little child who sat on my knee, played with my watch-
chain and laughed at me when I called her my little sweet-
heart. She was perfectly candid in her laughter, she knew
it was absurd for an old man to have a child as his sweet-
heart. I loved to hear her laugh so, because she was
true to herself, and to her right and natural instincts. She
was the prettiest and sweetest child I ever saw, full of
innocent dreams and harmless gaiety. She began to grow
up, and I saw less and less of her, till gradually I lost
the child and found the woman. But I believe in the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 39
child's heart still I think that the truth and simplicity
of the child's soul are still in the womanly nature, and
in that way, Lucy, I yet hold you as an ideal."
Her breath quickened a little.
" You think too kindly of me," she murmured, furling
and unfurling her fan slowly ; " I'm not at all clever."
He gave a slight deprecatory gesture.
" Cleverness is not what I expect or have ever expected
of you," he said. " You have not as yet had to endure
the misrepresentation and wrong which frequently make
women clever, the life of solitude and despised dreams
which moves a woman to put on man's armour and sally
forth to fight the world and conquer it, or else die in the
attempt. How few conquer, and how many die, are mat-
ters of history. Be glad you are not a clever woman,
Lucy! for genius in a woman is the mystic laurel of
Apollo springing from the soft breast of Daphne. It hurts
in the growing, and sometimes breaks the heart from which
it grows."
She answered nothing. He was talking in a way she did
not understand, his allusion to Apollo and Daphne was
completely beyond her. She smothered a tiny yawn and
wondered why he was so tedious. Moreover, she was con-
scious of some slight chagrin, for though she said, out of
mere social hypocrisy, that she was not clever, she thought
herself exceptionally so. Why could he not admit her abili-
ties as readily as she herself admitted them?
" No, you are not clever," he resumed quietly. " And I
am glad you are not. You are good and pure and true,
these graces outweigh all cleverness."
Her cheeks flushed prettily, she thought of a girl who
had been her schoolmate at Brighton, one of the boldest
little hussies that ever flashed eyes to the light of day, yet
who could assume the dainty simpering air of maiden-
modest perfection at the moment's notice. She wished she
could do the same, but she had not studied the trick care-
fully enough, and she was afraid to try more of it than
just a little tremulous smile and a quick downward glance
at her fan. Helmsley watched her attentively almost
craftily. It did not strain his sense of perspicuity over
much to see exactly what was going on in her mind. He
settled himself a little more comfortably in his chair, and
pressing the tips of his fingers together, looked at her over
40 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
this pointed rampart of polished nails as though she were
something altogether curious and remarkable.
" The virtues of a woman are her wealth and worth," he
said sententiously, as though he were quoting a maxim out
of a child's copybook. " A jewel's price is not so much
for its size and weight as for its particular lustre. But
common commercial people like myself even if they have
the good fortune to find a diamond likely to surpass all
others in the market, are never content till they have tested
it. Every Jew bites his coin. And I am something of a
Jew. I like to know the exact value of what I esteem as
precious. And so I test it."
"Yes?" She threw in this interjected query simply be-
cause she did not know what to say. She thought he was
talking very oddly, and wondered whether he was quite
sane.
" Yes," he echoed ; " I test it. And, Lucy, I think so
highly of you, and esteem you as so very fair a pearl of
womanhood, that I am inclined to test you just as I would
a priceless gem. Do you object?"
She glanced up at him flutteringly, vaguely surprised.
The corners of his mouth relaxed into the shadow of a
smile, and she was reassured.
" Object? Of course not! As if I should object to any-
thing you wish ! " she said amiably. " But I don't quite
understand "
" No, possibly not," he interrupted ; " I know I have
not the art of making myself very clear in matters which
deeply and personally affect myself. I have nerves still,
and some remnant of a heart, these occasionally trouble
me "
She leaned forward and put her delicately gloved hand
on his.
" Dear King David ! " she murmured. " You are always
so good ! "
He took the little fingers in his own :clasp and held them
gently.
" I want to ask you a question, Lucy," he said ; " and
it is a very difficult question, because I feel that your answer
to it may mean a great sorrow for me, a great disappoint-
ment. The question is the 'test' I speak of. Shall I put
it to you?"
" Please do ! " she answered, her heart beginning to beat
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 41
violently. He was coming to the point at last, she thought,
and a few words more would surely make her the future
mistress of the Helmsley millions ! " If I can answer it
I will ! "
" Shall I ask you my question, or shall I not ? " he went
on, gripping her hand hard, and half raising himself in his
chair as he looked intently at her telltale face. " For it
means more than you can realise. It is an. audacious,
impudent question, Lucy, one that no man of my age ought
to ask any woman, one that is likely to offend you very
much ! "
She withdrew her hand from his.
" Offend me ? " and her eyes widened 1 with a blank won-
der. "What can it be?"
" Ah ! What can it be ! Think of all the most audacious
and impudent things a man an old man could say to a
young woman ! Suppose, it is only supposition, remem-
ber, suppose, for instance, I were to ask you to marry
me?"
A smile, brilliant and exultant, flashed over. her features,
she almost laughed out her inward joy.
" I should accept you at once ! " she said.
With sudden impetuosity he rose, and pushing away his
chair, drew himself up to his full height, looking down
upon her.
" You would ! " and his voice was low and tense. " You!
you would actually marry me ? "
She, rising likewise, confronted him in all her fresh and
youthful beauty, fair and smiling, her bosom heaving and
her eyes dilating with eagerness.
" I would, indeed I would ! " she averred delightedly.
" I would rather marry you than any man in the world ! "
There was a moment's silence. Then
"Why? "he asked.
The simple monosyllabic query completely confused her.
It was unexpected, and she was at her wit's end how to
reply to it. Moreover, he kept his eyes so pertinaciously
fixed upon her that she felt her blood rising to her cheeks
and brow in a hot flush of shame? Oh no! not shame,
but merely petulant vexation. The proper way for him to
behave at this juncture, so she reflected, would be that he
should take her tenderly in his arms and murmur, after
the penny-dreadful style of elderly hero, " My darling, my
42 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
darling! Can you, so young and beautiful, really care for
an old fogey like me ? " to which she would, of course, have
replied in the same fashion, and with the most charming in-
sincerity " Dearest ! Do not talk of age ! You will never
be old to my fond heart ! " But to stand, as he was stand-
ing, like a rigid figure of bronze, with a hard pale face in
which only the eyes seemed living, and to merely ask
" Why " she would rather marry him than any other man in
the world, was absurd, to say the least of it, and indeed
quite lacking in all delicacy of sentiment. She sought
about in her mind for some way out of the difficulty and
could find none. She grew more and more painfully crim-
son, and wished she could cry. A well worked-up passion
of tears would have come in very usefully just then, but
somehow she could not turn the passion on. And a horrid
sense of incompetency and failure began to steal over her
an awful foreboding of defeat. What could she do to
seize the slippery opportunity and grasp the doubtful prize ?
How could she land the big golden fish which she foolishly
fancied she had at the end of her line? Never had she felt
so helpless or so angry.
" Why ? " he repeated " Why would you marry me ? Not
for love certainly. Even if you believed in love which
you say you do not, you could not at your age love a man
at mine. That would be impossible and unnatural. I am
old enough to be your grandfather. Think again, Lucy!
Perhaps you spoke hastily out of girlish thoughtlessness
or out of kindness and a wish to please me, but do not,
in so serious a matter, consider me at all. Consider your-
self. Consider your own nature and temperament your
own life your own future your own happiness, would
you, young as you are, with all the world before you
would you, if I asked you, deliberately and of your own
free will, marry me ? "
She drew a sharp breath, and hurriedly wondered what
was best to do. He spoke so strangely! he looked so
oddly! But that might be because he was in love with
her ! Her lips parted, she faced him straightly, lifting her
head with a little air of something like defiance.
" I would ! of course I would ! " she replied. " Nothing
could make me happier ! "
He gave a kind of gesture with his hands as though
he threw aside some cherished object.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 43
" So vanishes my last illusion ! " he said. " Well ! Let
it go!"
She gazed at him stupidly. What did he mean ? Why did
he not now emulate the penny-dreadful heroes and say
" My darling ! " Nothing seemed further from his thoughts.
His eyes rested upon her with a coldness such as she
had never seen in them before, and his features hardened.
" I should have known the modern world and modern
education better," he went on, speaking more to himself
than to her. " I have had experience enough. I should
never have allowed myself to keep even the shred of a
belief in woman's honesty ! "
She started, and flamed into a heat of protest.
" Mr. Helmsley ! "
He raised a deprecatory hand.
" Pardon me ! " he said wearily " I am an old man,
accustomed to express myself bluntly. Even if I vex you,
I fear I shall not know how to apologise. I had
thought "
He broke off, then with an effort resumed
" I had thought, Lucy, that you were above all bribery
and corruption."
" Bribery ? Corruption ? " she stammered, and in a
tremor of excitement and perturbation her fan dropped from
her hands to the floor. He stooped for it with the ease
and grace of a far younger man, and returned it to her.
" Yes, bribery and corruption," he continued quietly.
" The bribery of wealth the corruption of position. These
are the sole objects for which (if I asked you, which I
have not done) you would marry me. For there is nothing
else I have to offer you. I could not give you the sentiment
or passion of a husband (if husbands ever have sentiment
or passion nowadays), because all such feeling is dead in
me. I could not be your ' friend ' in marriage because
I should always remember that our matrimonial ' friendship '
was merely one of cash supply and demand. You see 1
speak very plainly. I am not a polite person not even a
conventional one. I am too old to tell lies. Lying is never
a profitable business in youth but in age it is pure waste
of time and energy. With one foot in the grave it is as
well to keep the other from slipping."
He paused. She tried to say something, but could find
no suitable words with which to answer him. He looked
44 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
at her steadily, half expecting her to speak, and there was
both pain and sorrow in the depths of his tired eyes.
" I need not prolong this conversation," he said, after a
minute's silence. " For it must be as embarrassing to you
as it is to me. It is quite my own fault that I built too
many hopes upon you, Lucy! I set you up on a pedestal
and you have yourself stepped down from it I have put
you to the test, and you have failed. I daresay the failure
is as much the concern of your parents and the way in
which they have brought you up, as it is of any latent weak-
ness in your own mind and character. But, if, when I
suggested such an absurd and unnatural proposition as mar-
riage between myself and you, you had at once, like a true
woman, gently and firmly repudiatel the idea, then "
" Then what ?" she faltered.
" Why, then I should have made you my sole heiress,"
he said quietly.
Her eyes opened in blank wonderment and despair. Was
it possible ! Had she been so near her golden El Dorado
only to see the shining shores receding, and the glittering
harbour closed ! Oh, it was cruel ! Horrible ! There was
a convulsive catch in her throat which she managed to
turn into the laugh hysterical.
" Really ! " she ejaculated, with a poor attempt at flip-
pancy ; and, in her turn, she asked the question, " Why ? "
" Because I should have known you were honest," an-
swered Helmsley, with emphasis. " Honest to your wom-
anly instincts, and to the simplest and purest part of your
nature. I should have proved for myself the fact that
you refused to sell your beautiful person for gold that
you were no slave in the world's auction-mart, but a free,
proud, noble-hearted English girl who meant to be faithful
to all that was highest and best in her soul. Ah, Lucy!
You are not this little dream-girl of mine ! You are a very
realistic modern woman with whom a man's ' ideal ' has
nothing in common ! "
She was silent, half-stifled with rage. He stepped up to
her and took her hand.
" Good-night, Lucy ! Good-bye ! "
She wrenched her fingers from his clasp, and a sudden,
uncontrollable fury possessed her.
" I hate you ! " she said between her set teeth. " You are
mean ! Mean ! I hate you ! "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 45
He stood quite still, gravely irresponsive.
" You have deceived me cheated me ! " she went on,
angrily and recklessly. " You made me think you wanted
to marry me."
The corners of his mouth went up under his ashen-grey
moustache in a chill smile.
" Pardon me ! " he interrupted. " But did I make you
think ? or did you think it of your own accord ? "
She plucked at her fan nervously.
" Any girl I don't care who she is would accept you
if you asked her to marry you ! " she said hotly. " It would
be perfectly idiotic to refuse such a rich man, even if he
were Methusaleh himself. There's nothing wrong or dis-
honest in taking the chance of having plenty of money, if it is
offered."
He looked at her, vaguely compassionating her loss of
self-control.
" No, there is nothing wrong or dishonest in taking the
chance of having plenty of money, if such a chance can be
had without shame and dishonour," he said. " But I, per-
sonally, should consider a woman hopelessly lost to every
sense of self-respect, if at the age of twenty-one she con-
sented to marry a man of seventy for the sake of his wealth.
And I should equally consider the man of seventy a dis-
grace to the name of manhood if he condoned the voluntary
sale of such a woman by becoming her purchaser."
She lifted her head with a haughty air.
" Then, if you thought these things, you had no right
to propose to me ! " she said passionately.
He was faintly amused.
" I did not propose to you, Lucy," he answered, " and
I never intended to do so ! I merely asked what your answer
would be if I did."
" It comes to the same thing ! " she muttered.
" Pardon me, not quite ! I told you I was putting you
to a test. That you failed to stand my test is the conclusion
of the whole affair. We really need say no more about it.
The matter is finished."
She bit her lips vexedly, then forced a hard smile.
"It's about time it was finished, I'm sure!" she said
carelessly. " I'm perfectly tired out ! "
" No doubt you are you must be I was forgetting how
late it is," and with ceremonious politeness he opened the
46 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
door for her to pass. " You have had an exhausting even-
ing! Forgive me for any pain or vexation or or anger
I may have caused you and, good-night, Lucy ! God bless
you ! "
He held out his hand. He looked worn and wan, and
Tiis face showed pitiful marks of fatigue, loneliness,
and sorrow, but the girl was too much incensed by her
own disappointment to forgive him for the unexpected
trial to which he had submitted her disposition and
character.
" Good-night ! " she said curtly, avoiding his glance. " I
suppose everybody's gone by this time ; mother will be wait-
ing for me."
" Won't you shake hands ? " he pleaded gently. " I'm
sorry that I expected more of you than you could give,
Lucy! but I want you to be happy, and I think and hope
you will be, if you let the best part of you have its way.
Still, it may happen that I shall never see you again so
let us part friends ! "
She raised her eyes, hardened now in their expression
"by intense malignity and spite, and fixed them fully upon
him.
" I don't want to be friends with you any more ! " she
said. " You are cruel and selfish, and you have treated
me abominably! I am sure you will die miserably, without
a soul to care for you! And I hope yes, I hope I shall
never hear of you, never see you any more as long as you
live ! You could never have really had the least bit of
affection for me when I was a child."
He interrupted her by a quick, stern gesture.
" That child is dead ! Do not speak of her ! "
Something in his aspect awed her something of the mute
despair and solitude of a man who has lost his last hope
on earth, shadowed his pallid features as with a forecast
of approaching dissolution. Involuntarily she trembled, and
felt cold ; her head drooped ; for a moment her conscience
pricked her, reminding her how she had schemed and
plotted and planned to become the wife of this sad, frail
old man ever since she had reached the mature age of six-
teen, for a moment she was impelled to make a clean con-
fession of her own egotism, and to ask his pardon for
having, under the tuition of her mother, made him the un-
conscious pivot of all her worldly ambitions, then, with
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 47
a sudden impetuous movement, she swept past him without
a word, and ran downstairs.
There she found half the evening's guests gone, and the
other half well on the move. Some of these glanced at her
inquiringly, with " nods and becks and wreathed smiles,"
but she paid no heed to any of them. Her mother came
eagerly up to her, anxiety purpling every vein of her mot-
tled countenance, but no word did she utter, till, having put
on their cloaks, the two waited together on the steps of the
mansion, with flunkeys on either side, for the hired
brougham to bowl up in as im-hired a style as was possible
at the price of one guinea for the night's outing.
" Where is Mr. Helmsley ? " then asked Mrs. Sorrel.
" In his own room, I believe," replied Lucy, frigidly.
" Isn't he coming to see you into the carriage and say
good-night ? "
" Why should he ? " demanded the girl, peremptorily.
Mrs. Sorrel became visibly agitated. She glanced at the
impassive flunkeys nervously.
" O my dear! " she whimpered softly, " what's the matter?
Has anything happened ? "
At that moment the expected vehicle lumbered up with
a very creditable clatter of well-assumed importance. The
flunkeys relaxed their formal attitudes and hastened to as-
sist both mother and daughter into its somewhat stuffy
recess. Another moment and they were driven off, Lucy
looking out of the window at the numerous lights which
twinkled from every story of the stately building they had
just left, till the last bright point of luminance had vanished.
Then the strain on her mind gave way and to Mrs. Sorrel's
alarm and amazement, she suddenly burst into a stormy
passion of tears.
" It's all over! " she sobbed angrily, " all over! I've lost
him ! I've lost everything ! "
Mrs. Sorrel gave a kind of weasel cry and clasped her
fat hands convulsively.
" Oh, you little fool ! " she burst out, " what have you
done?"
Thus violently adjured, Lucy, with angry gasps of spite
and disappointment, related in full the maddening, the ec-
centric, the altogether incomprehensible and inexcusable
conduct of the famous millionaire, " old Gold-dust," towards
her beautiful, outraged, and injured self. Her mother sat
48 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
listening in a kind of frozen horror which might possibly
have become rigid, had it not been for the occasional bump-
ing of the hired brougham over ruts and loose stones, which
bumping shook her superfluous flesh into agitated bosom-
waves.
" I ought to have guessed it ! I ought to have followed
my own instinct ! " she said, in sepulchral tones. " It came
to me like a flash, when I was talking to him this evening!
I said to myself, ' he is in a moral mood.' And he was.
Nothing is so hopeless, so dreadful ! If I had only thought
he would carry on that mood with you, I would have warned
you ! You could have held off a little it would perhaps
have been the wiser course."
" I should think it would indeed ! " cried Lucy, dabbing
her eyes with her scented handkerchief ; " He would have
left me every penny he has in the world if I had refused
him ! He told me so as coolly as possible ! "
Mrs. Sorrel sank back with a groan.
" Oh dear, oh dear ! " she wailed feebly. " Can nothing
be done ? "
" Nothing ! " And Lucy, now worked up to hysterical
pitch, felt as if she could break the windows, beat her
mother, or do anything else equally reckless and irresponsi-
ble. " I shall be left to myself now, he will never ask
me to his house again, never give me any parties or drives
or opera-boxes or jewels, he will never come to see me,
and I shall have no pleasure at all ! I shall sink into a
dowdy, frowsy, shabby-genteel old maid for the rest of my
life! It is detestable!" and she uttered a suppressed small
shriek on the word, " It has been a hateful, abominable
birthday ! Everybody will be laughing at me up their
sleeves ! Think of Lady Larford ! "
This suggestion was too dreadful for comment, and Mrs.
Sorrel closed her eyes, visibly shuddering.
" Who would have thought it possible ! " she moaned
drearily, " a millionaire, with such mad ideas ! I had thought
him always such a sensible man ! And he seemed to admire
you so much ! What will he do with all his money ? "
The fair Lucy sighed, sobbed, and swallowed her tears
into silence. And again, like the doubtful refrain of a song
in a bad dream, her mother moaned and murmured
" What will he do with all his money ! "
CHAPTER IV
Two or three days later, Sir Francis Vesey was sitting in
his private office, a musty den enclosed within the heart
of the city, listening, or trying to listen, to the dull clerical
monotone of a clerk's dry voice detailing the wearisome
items of certain legal formulae preliminary to an impending
case. Sir Francis had yawned capaciously once or twice,
and had played absently with a large ink-stained paper-
knife, signs that his mind was wandering somewhat from
the point at issue. He was a conscientious man, but he was
getting old, and the disputations of obstinate or foolish
clients were becoming troublesome to him. Moreover, the
case concerning which his clerk was prosing along in the
style of a chapel demagogue engaged in extemporary prayer,
was an extremely uninteresting one, and he thought hazily
of his lunch. The hour for that meal was approaching,
a fact for which he was devoutly thankful. For after lunch,
he gave himself his own release from work for the rest of
the day. He left it all to his subordinates, and to his partner
Symonds, who was some eight or ten years his junior. He
glanced at the clock, and beat a tattoo with his foot on the
floor, conscious of his inward impatience with the reiterated
" Whereas the said " and " Witnesseth the so-and-so," which
echoed dully on the otherwise unbroken silence. It was a
warm, sunshiny morning, but the brightness of the outer air
was poorly reflected in the stuffy room, which though com-
fortably and even luxuriously furnished, conveyed the usual
sense of dismal depression common to London precincts of
the law. Two or three flies buzzed irritably now and then
against the smoke-begrimed windowpanes, and the clerk's
dreary preamble went on and on till Sir Francis closed his
eyes and wondered whether a small " catnap " would be pos-
sible between the sections of the seeming interminable docu-
ment. Suddenly, to his relief, there came a sharp tap at
the door, and an office boy looked in.
" Mr. Helmsley's man, sir," he announced. " Wants to
see you personally."
Sir Francis got up from his chair with alacrity.
" All right ! Show him in."
49
50 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
The boy retired, and presently reappearing, ushered in
a staid-looking personage in black who, saluting Sir Francis
respectfully, handed him a letter marked " Confidential."
" Nice day, Benson," remarked the lawyer cheerfully,
as he took the missive. " Is your master quite well ? "
" Perfectly well, Sir Francis, thank you," replied Benson.
" Leastways he was when I saw him off just now."
"Oh! He's gone then?"
" Yes, Sir Francis. He's gone."
Sir Francis broke the seal of the letter, then bethinking
himself of " Whereas the said " and " Witnesseth the so-
and-so," turned to his worn and jaded clerk.
" That will do for the present," he said. " You can go."
With pleasing haste the clerk put together the volu-
minous folios of blue paper from which he had been reading,
and quickly made his exit, while Sir Francis, still standing,
put on his glasses and unfolded the one sheet of note-paper
on which Helmsley's communication was written. Glancing
it up and down, he turned it over and over then addressed
himself to the attentively waiting Benson.
" So Mr. Helmsley has started on his trip alone ? "
" Yes, Sir Francis. Quite alone."
" Did he say where he was going? "
" He booked for Southhampton, sir."
"Oh!"
" And," proceeded Benson, " he only took one port-
manteau."
"Oh!" again ejaculated the lawyer. And, stroking his
bearded chin, he thought awhile.
" Are you going to stay at Carlton House Terrace till
he comes back ? "
" I have a month's holiday, sir. Then I return to my
place. The same order applies to all the servants, sir."
" I see ! Well ! "
And then there came a pause.
" I suppose," said Sir Francis, after some minutes' re-
flection, " I suppose you know that during Mr. Helmsley's
absence you are to apply to me for wages and household
expenses that, in fact, your master has placed me in charge
of 'all his affairs?"
" So I have understood, sir," replied Benson, deferentially.
" Mr. Helmsley called us all into his room last night and told
us so."
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 51
" Oh, he did, did he? But, of course, as a man of busi-
ness, he would leave nothing incomplete. Now, supposing
Mr. Helmsley is away more than a month, I will call or send
to the house at stated intervals to see how things are getting
on, and arrange any matters that may need arranging "
here he glanced at the letter in his hand " as your master
requests. And if you want anything or wish to know
any news, you can always call here and inquire."
" Thank you, Sir Francis."
" I'm sorry," and the lawyer's shrewd yet kindly eyes
looked somewhat troubled " I'm very sorry that my old
friend hasn't taken you with him, Benson."
Benson caught the ring of sympathetic interest in his
voice and at once responded to it.
" Well, sir, so am I ! " he said heartily. " For Mr. Helm-
sley's over seventy, and he isn't as strong as he thinks
himself to be by a long way. He ought to have some one
with him. But he wouldn't hear of my going. He can be
right down obstinate if he likes, you know, sir, though
he is one of the best gentlemen to work for that ever lived.
But he will have his own way, and, bad or good, he takes it."
" Quite true ! " murmured Sir Francis meditatively.
"Very true!"
A silence fell between them.
" You say he isn't as strong as he thinks himself to be,"
began Vesey again, presently. " Surely he's wonderfully
alert and active for his time of life ? "
" Why, yes, sir, he's active enough, but it's all effort and
nerve with him now. He makes up his mind like, and de-
termines to be strong, in spite of being weak. Only six
months ago the doctor told him to be careful, as his heart
wasn't quite up to the mark."
"Ah!" ejaculated Sir Francis ruefully. "And did the
doctor recommend any special treatment?"
" Yes, sir. Change of air and complete rest."
The lawyer's countenance cleared.
" Then you may depend upon it that's why he has gone
away by himself, Benson," he said. " He wants change
of air, rest, and different surroundings. And as he won't
have letters forwarded, and doesn't give any future ad-
dress, I shouldn't wonder if he starts off yachting some-
where "
" Oh, no, sir, I don't think so," interposed Benson, " The
52 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
yacht's in the dry dock, and I know he hasn't given any
orders to have her got ready."
" Well, well, if he wants change and rest, he's wise to
put a distance between himself and his business affairs "
and Sir Francis here looked round for his hat and walking-
stick. " Take me, for example ! Why, I'm a different man
when I leave this office and go home to lunch ! I'm going
now. I don't think I really don't think there is any cause
for uneasiness, Benson. Your master will let us know if
there's anything wrong with him."
" Oh, yes, sir, he'll be sure to do that. He said he would
telegraph for me if he wanted me."
" Good ! Now, if you get any news of him before I do,
or if you are anxious that I should attend to any special
matter, you'll always find me here till one o'clock. You
know my private address ? "
" Yes, sir."
" That's all right. And when I go down to my country
place for the summer, you can come there whenever your
business is urgent. I'll settle all expenses with you."
" Thank you, Sir Francis. Good-day ! "
w Good-day ! A pleasant holiday to you ! "
Benson bowed his respectful thanks again, and retired.
Sir Francis Vesey, left alone, took his hat and gazed
abstractedly into its silk-lined crown before putting it on
his head. Then setting it aside, he drew Helmsley's letter
from his pocket and read it through again. It ran as
follows :
" MY DEAR VESEY, I had some rather bad news on the
night of Miss Lucy Sorrel's birthday party. A certain
speculation in which I had an interest has failed, and I have
lost on the whole ' gamble.' The matter will not, however,
affect my financial position. You have all your instructions
in order as given to you when we last met, so I shall leave
town with an easy mind. I am likely to be away for some
time, and am not yet certain of my destination. Consider
me, therefore, for the present as lost. Should I die sud-
denly, or at sickly leisure, I carry a letter on my person
which will be conveyed to you, making you acquainted with
the sad ( ?) event as soon as it occurs. And for all your
kindly services in the way of both business and friendship,
I owe you a vast debt of thanks, which debt shall be fully
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 53
and gratefully acknowledged, when I make my Will. I
may possibly employ another lawyer than yourself for this
purpose. But, for the immediate time, all my affairs are in
your hands, as they have been for these twenty years or
more. My business goes on as usual, of course; it is a
wheel so well accustomed to regular motion that it can
very well grind for a while without my personal supervision.
And so far as my individual self is concerned, I feel the
imperative necessity of rest and freedom. I go to find
these, even if I lose myself in the endeavour. So farewell !
And as old-fashioned folks used to say ' God be with you ! '
If there be any meaning in the phrase, it is conveyed to you
in all sincerity by your old friend,
"DAVID HELMSLEY."
" Cryptic, positively cryptic ! " murmured Sir Francis, as
he folded up the letter and put it by. " There's no clue
to anything anywhere. What does he mean by a bad specu-
lation ? a loss ' on the whole gamble ' ? I know or at
least I thought I knew every number on which he had put
his money. It won't affect his financial position, he says.
I should think not! It would take a bigger Colossus than
that of Rhodes to overshadow Helmsley in the market!
But he's got some queer notion in his mind, some scheme
for finding an heir to his millions, I'm sure he has! A
fit of romance has seized him late in life, he wants to be
loved for himself alone, which, of course, at his age, is
absurd! No one loves old people, except, perhaps (in very
rare cases), their children, if the children are not hope-
lessly given over to self and the hour, which they generally
are." He sighed, and his brows contracted. He had a
spendthrift son and a "rapid" daughter, and he knew well
enough how little he could depend upon them for either
affection or respect.
" Old age is regarded as a sort of crime nowadays,"
he continued, apostrophising the dingy walls of his office,
as he took his walking-stick and prepared to leave the
premises "thanks to the donkey-journalism of the period
which brays down everything that is not like itself mere
froth and scum. And unlike our great classic teachers who
held that old age was honourable and deserved the highest
place in the senate, the present generation affects to con-
sider a man well on the way to dotage after forty. God
54 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
bless me ! what fools there are in this twentieth century !
what blatant idiots! Imagine national affairs carried on
in the country by its young men ! The Empire would soon
became a mere football for general kicking! However,
there's one thing in this Helmsley business "that I'm glad
of " and his eyes twinkled " I believe the Sorrels have
lost their game! Positively, I think Miss Lucy has broken
her line, and that the fish has gone without her hook in
its mouth! Old as he is, David is not too old to outwit a
woman! I gave him a hint, just the slightest hint in the
world, and I think he's taken it. Anyhow, he's gone,
booked for Southampton. And from Southampton a man
can ' ship himself all aboard of a ship/ like Lord Bateman
in the ballad, and go anywhere. Anywhere, yes ! but in
this case I wonder where he will go?' Possibly to America
yet no ! I think not ! " And Sir Francis, descending
his office stairs, went out into the broad sunshine which
flooded the city streets, continuing his inward reverie as he
walked, " I think not. From what he said the other night,
I fancy not even the haunting memory of 'ole Virginny '
will draw him back there. ' Consider me as lost/ he says.
An odd notion ! David Helmsley, one of the richest men in
the whole of two continents, wishes to lose himself! Im-
possible! He's a marked multi-millionaire, branded with
the golden sign of unlimited wealth, and as well known as a
London terminus ! If he were ' lost ' to-day, he'd be found
to-morrow. As matters stand I daresay he'll turn up all
right in a month's time and I need not worry my head
any more about him ! "
With this determination Sir Francis went home to lunch-
eon, and after luncheon duly appeared driving in the Park
with Lady Vesey, like the attentive and obliging husband
he ever was, despite the boredom which the " Row " and
the " Ladies' Mile " invariably inflicted upon him, yet
every now and then before him there rose a mental image
of his old friend " King David," grey, sad-eyed, and lonely
flitting past like some phantom in a dream, and wander-
ing far away from the crowded vortex of London life, where
his name \vas as honey to a swarm of bees, into some dim
unreachable region of shadow and silence, with the brief
farewell :
" Consider me as lost ! "
CHAPTER V
AMONG the many wild and lovely tangles of foliage and
flower which Nature and her subject man succeed in work-
ing out .together after considerable conflict and argument,
one of the most beautiful and luxuriant is a Somersetshire
lane. Narrow and tortuous, fortified on either side with
high banks of rough turf, topped by garlands of climbing
wild-rose, bunches of corn-cockles and tufts of meadow-
sweet, such a lane in midsummer is one of beauty's ways
through the world, a path, which if it lead to no moic
important goal than a tiny village or solitary farm, is, to the
dreamer and poet, sufficiently entrancing in itself to seem
a fairy road to fairyland. Here and there some grand elm
or beech tree, whose roots have hugged the soil for more
than a century, spreads out broad protecting branches all
a-shimmer with green leaves, between the uneven tufts
of grass, the dainty " ragged robin " sprays its rose-pink
blossoms contrastingly against masses of snowy star-wort
and wild strawberry, the hedges lean close together, as
though accustomed to conceal the shy confidences of young
lovers, and from the fields beyond, the glad singing of
countless skylarks, soaring one after the other into the
clear pure air, strikes a wave of repeated melody from
point to point of the visible sky. All among the delicate
or deep indentures of the coast, where the ocean creeps
softly inland with a caressing murmur, or scoops out caverns
for itself among the rocks with perpetual roar and dash of
foam, the glamour of the green extends, the " lane runs
down to meet the sea, carrying with it its garlands of blos-
soms, its branches of verdure, and all the odour and fresh-
ness of the woodlands and meadows, and when at last it
drops to a conclusion in some little sandy bay or sparkling
weir, it leaves an impression of melody on the soul like
the echo of a sweet song just sweetly sung. High up the
lanes run; low down on the shore-line they come to an
end, and the wayfarer, pacing along at the summit of their
devious windings, can hear the plash of the sea below him
as he walks, the little tender laughing plash if the winds
55
56 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
are calm and the day is fair, the angry thud and boom of
the billows if a storm is rising. These bye-roads, of which
there are so many along the Somersetshire coast, are often
very lonely, they are dangerous to traffic, as no two or-
dinary sized vehicles can pass each other conveniently within
so narrow a compass, and in summer especially they are
haunted by gypsies, " pea-pickers," and ill-favoured men and
women of the " tramp " species, slouching along across
country from Bristol to Minehead, and so over Countisbury
Hill into Devon. One such questionable-looking individual
there was, who, in a golden afternoon of July, when the
sun was beginning to decline towards the west, paused in
his slow march through the dust, which even in the greenest
of hill and woodland ways is bound to accumulate thickly
after a fortnight's lack of rain, and with a sigh of fatigue,
sat down at the foot of a tree to rest. He was an old man,
with a thin weary face which was rendered more gaunt and
haggard-looking by a ragged grey moustache and ugly stub-
ble beard of some ten days' growth, and his attire suggested
that he might possibly be a labourer dismissed from farm
work for the heinous crime of old age, and therefore " on
the tramp " looking out for a job. He wore a soft slouched
felt hat, very much out of shape and weather-stained, and
when he had been seated for a few minutes in a kind of
apathy of lassitude, he lifted the hat off, passing his hand
through his abundant rough white hair in a slow tired way,
as though by this movement he sought to soothe some teas-
ing pain.
" I think," he murmured, addressing himself to a tiny
brown bird which had alighted on a branch of briar-rose
hard by, and was looking at him with bold and lively inquisi-
tiveness, " I think I have managed the whole thing very
well ! I have left no clue anywhere. My portmanteau will
tell no tales, locked up in the cloak-room at Bristol. If it is
ever sold with its contents ' to defray expenses/ nothing will
be found in it but some unmarked clothes. And so far as
all those who know me are concerned, every trace of me
ends at Southampton. Beyond Southampton there is a
blank, into which David Helmsley, the millionaire, has van-
ished. And David Helmsley, the tramp, sits here in his
place ! "
The little brown bird preened its wing, and glanced at
him sideways intelligently, as much as to say : " I quite
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 57
understand! You have become one of us, a wanderer,
taking no thought for the morrow, but letting to-morrow
take thought for the things of itself. There is a bond of
sympathy between me, the bird, and you, the man we are
brothers ! "
A sudden smile illumined his face. The situation was
novel, and to him enjoyable. He was greatly fatigued, he
had over-exerted himself during the past three or four days,
walking much further than he had ever been accustomed to,
and his limbs ached sorely nevertheless, with the sense of
rest and relief from strain, came a certain exhilaration of
spirit, like the vivacious delight of a boy who has run away
from school, and is defiantly ready to take all the conse-
quences of his disobedience to the rules of discipline and
order. For years he had wanted a " new " experience of
life. No one would give him what he sought. To him the
" social " round was ever the same dreary, heartless and
witless thing, as empty under the sway of one king or queen
as another, and as utterly profitless to peace or happiness as
it has always been. The world of finance was equally unin-
teresting so far as he was concerned ; he had exhausted it,
and found it no more than a monotonous grind of gain which
ended in a loathing of the thing gained. Others might and
would consume themselves in fevers of avarice, and surfeits
of luxury, but for him such temoprary pleasures were past.
He desired a complete change, a change of surroundings,
a change of associations and for this, what could be more
excellent or more wholesome than a taste of poverty? In
his time he had met men who, worn out with the constant
fight of the body's materialism against the soul's idealism,
had turned their backs for ever on the world and its glitter-
ing shows, and had shut themselves up as monks of "en-
closed " or " silent " orders, others he had known, who,
rushing away from what we call civilisation, had encamped
in the backwoods of America, or high up among the Rocky
Mountains, and had lived the lives of primeval savages in
their strong craving to assert a greater manliness than the
streets of cities would allow them to enjoy, and all were
moved by the same mainspring of action, the overpower-
ing spiritual demand within themselves which urged them
to break loose from cowardly conventions and escape from
Sham. He could not compete with younger men in taking
up wild sport and " big game " hunting in far lands, in
58 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
order to give free play to the natural savage temperament
which lies untamed at the root of every man's individual
being, and he had no liking for " monastic " immurements.
But he longed for liberty, liberty to go where he liked
without his movements being watched and commented upon
by a degraded " personal " press, liberty to speak as he felt
and do as he wished, without being compelled to weigh his
words, or to consider his actions. Hence he had decided
on his present course, though how that course was likely to
shape itself in its progress he had no very distinct idea. His
actual plan was to walk to Cornwall, and there find out the
native home of his parents, not so much for sentiment's sake
as for the necessity of having a definite object or goal in
view. And the reason of his determination to go " on the
road," as it were, was simply that he wished to test for him-
self the actual happiness or misery experienced by the very
poor as contrasted with the supposed joys of the very
wealthy. This scheme had been working in his brain for
the past year or more, all his business arrangements had
"been made in such a way as to enable him to carry it out
satisfactorily to himself without taking any one else into his
confidence. The only thing that might possibly have deter-
red him from his quixotic undertaking would have been the
moral triumph of Lucy Sorrel over the temptation he had
held out to her. Had she been honest to her better woman-
hood, had she still possessed the " child's heart," with
which his remembrance and imagination had endowed her,
he would have resigned every other thought save that of so
smoothing the path of life for her that she might tread it
easily to the end. But now that she had disappointed him,
he had, so he told himself, done with fine illusions and fair
"beliefs for ever. And he had started on a lonely quest, a
search for something vague and intangible, the very nature
of which he himself could not tell. Some glimmering ghost
of a notion lurked in his mind that perhaps, during his self-
imposed solitary ramblings, he might find some new and
unexplored channel wherein his vast wealth might flow to
good purpose after his death, without the trammels of Com-
mittee-ism and Red-Tape-ism. But he expected and formu-
lated nothing, he was more or less in a state of quiescence,
awaiting adventures without either hope or fear. In the
meantime, here he sat in the shady Somersetshire lane, rest-
ing, the multi-millionaire whose very name shook the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 59
money-markets of the world, but who to all present appear-
ances seemed no more than a tramp, footing it wearily along
one of the many winding" " short cuts " through the country
between Somerset and Devon, and as unlike the actual self
of him as known to Lombard Street and the Stock Exchange
as a beggar is unlike a king.
"After all, it's quite as interesting as ' big game ' shoot-
ing ! " he said, the smile still lingering in his eyes. " I am
after ' sport/ in a novel fashion ! I am on the look-out for
new specimens of men and women, real honest ones ! I
may find them, I may not, but the search will surely prove
at least as instructive and profitable as if one went out to
the Arctic regions for the purpose of killing innocent polar
bears! Change and excitement are what every one craves
for nowadays I'm getting as much as I want in my own
way ! "
He thought over the whole situation, and reviewed with
a certain sense of interest and amusement his method of
action since he left London. Benson, his valet, had packed
his portmanteau, according to orders, with everything that
was necessary for a short sea trip, and then had seen him off
at the station for Southampton, and to Southampton he
had gone. Arrived there, he had proceeded to a hotel,
where, under an assumed name, he had stayed the night.
The next day he had left Southampton for Salisbury by
train, and there staying another night, had left again for
Bath and Bristol. On the latter journey he had " tipped "
the guard heavily to keep his first-class compartment re-
served to himself. This had been done ; and the train being
an express, stopping at very few stations, he had found leis-
ure and opportunity to unpack his portmanteau and cut away
every mark on his linen and other garments which could
give the slightest clue to their possessor. When he had
removed all possible trace of his identity on or in this one
piece of luggage, he packed it up again, and on reaching
Bristol, took it to the station's cloak-room, and there de-
posited it with the stated intention of calling back for it at the
hour of the next train to London. This done, he stepped
forth untrammelled, a free man. He had with him five
hundred pounds in bank-notes, and for a day or so was con-
tent to remain in Bristol at one of the best hotels, under an
assumed name as before, while privately making such other
preparations for his intended long " tramp " as he thought
60 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
necessary. In one of the poorest quarters of the town he
purchased a few second-hand garments such as might be
worn by an ordinary day-labourer, saying to the dealer that
he wanted to " rig out " a man who had just left hospital
and who was going in for " field " work. The dealer saw
nothing either remarkable or suspicious in this seemingly
benevolent act of a kindly-looking well-dressed old gentle-
man, and sent him the articles he had purchased done up in
a neat package and addressed to him at his hotel, by the
name he had for the time assumed. When he left the hotel
for good, he did so with nothing more than this neat pack-
age, which he carried easily in one hand by a loop of string.
And so he began his journey, walking steadily for two or
three hours, then pausing to rest awhile, and after rest,
going on again. Once out of Bristol he was glad, and at
certain lonely places, when the shadows of night fell, he
changed all his garments one by one till he stood trans-
formed as now he was. The clothes he was compelled to
discard he got rid of by leaving them in unlikely holes and
corners on the road, as for example, at one place he filled
the pockets of his good broadcloth coat with stones and
dropped it into the bottom of an old disused well. The
curious sense of guilt he felt when he performed this inno-
cent act surprised as well as amused him.
" It is exactly as if I had murdered somebody and had
sunk a body into the well instead of a coat ! " he said
" and perhaps I have ! Perhaps I am killing my Self,
getting rid of my Self, which would be a good thing, if I
could only find Some one or Some thing better than my Self
in my Self's place ! "
When he had finally disposed of every article that could
suggest any possibility of his ever having been clothed as a
gentleman, he unripped the lining of his rough " work-
man's " vest, and made a layer of the bank-notes he had with
him between it and the cloth, stitching it securely over and
over with coarse needle and thread, being satisfied by this
arrangement to carry all his immediate cash hidden upon his
person, while for the daily needs of hunger and thirst he had
a few loose shillings and coppers in his pocket. He had
made up his mind not to touch a single one of the bank-
notes, unless suddenly overtaken by accident or illness.
When his bit of silver and copper came to an end, he meant
to beg alms along the road and prove for himself how far
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 61
it was true that human beings were in the main kind and
compassionate, and ready to assist one another in the battle
of life. With these ideas and many others in his mind, he
started on his " tramp " and during the first two or three
days of it suffered acutely. Many years had passed since
he had been accustomed to long sustained bodily exercise,
and he was therefore easily fatigued. But by the time he
reached the open country between the Quantocks and the
Brendon Hills, he had got somewhat into training, and had
begun to feel a greater lightness and ease as well as pleasure
in walking. He had found it quite easy to live on very sim-
ple food, in fact one of the principal charms of the strange
" holiday " he had planned for his own entertainment was
to prove for himself beyond all dispute that no very large
amount of money is required to sustain a man's life and
health. New milk and brown bread had kept him going
bravely every day, fruit was cheap and so was cheese, and
all these articles of diet are highly nourishing, so that he had
wanted for nothing. At night, the weather keeping steadily
fine and warm, he had slept in the open, choosing some quiet
nook in the woodland under a tree, or else near a haystack
in the fields, and he had benefited greatly by thus breathing
the pure air during slumber, and getting for nothing the
" cure " prescribed by certain Artful Dodgers of the medical
profession who take handfuls of guineas from credulous
patients for what Mother Nature willingly gives gratis.
And he was beginning to understand the joys of " loaf-
ing," so much so indeed that he felt a certain sympathy
with the lazy varlet who prefers to stroll aimlessly about
the country begging his bread rather than do a stroke of
honest work. The freedom of such a life is self-evident,
and freedom is the broadest and best way of breathing on
earth. To " tramp the road " seems to the well-dressed,
Conventional human being a sorry life ; but it may be ques-
tioned whether, after all, he with his social trammels and
household cares, is not leading a sorrier one. Never in all
his brilliant, successful career till now had David Helmsley,
that king of modern finance, realised so intensely the beauty
and peace of being alone with Nature, the joy of feeling
the steady pulse of the Spirit of the Universe throbbing
through one's own veins and arteries, the quiet yet ex-
ultant sense of knowing instinctively beyond all formulated
theory or dogma, that one is a vital part of the immortal
62 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Entity, as indestructible as Itself. And a great calm was
gradually taking possession of his soul, a smoothing of all
the waves of his emotional and nervous temperament.
Under this mystic touch of unseen and uncomprehended
heavenly tenderness, all sorrows, all disappointments, all
disillusions sank out of sight as though they had never been.
It seemed to him that he had put away his former life for
ever, and that another life had just begun, and his brain
was ready and eager to rid itself of old impressions in order
to prepare for new. Nothing of much moment had oc-
curred to him as yet. A few persons had said " good-day " or
" good-night " to him in passing, a farmer had asked him
to hold his horse for a quarter of an hour, which he had
done, and had thereby earned threepence, but he had met
with no interesting or exciting incidents which could come
under the head of " adventures." Nevertheless he was gath-
ering fresh experiences, experiences which all tended to
show him how the best and brightest part of life is foolishly
wasted and squandered by the modern world in a mad rush
for gain.
" So very little money really suffices for health, content-
ment, and harmless pleasure ! " he thought. " The secret of
our growing social mischief does not lie with the natural
order of created things, but solely with ourselves. We will
not set any reasonable limit to our desires. If we would,
we might live longer and be far happier ! "
He stretched out his limbs easefully, and dropped into a
reclining posture. The tree he had chosen to rest under
was a mighty elm, whose broad branches, thick with leaves,
formed a deep green canopy through which the sunbeams
filtered in flecks and darts of gold. A constant twittering
of birds resounded within this dome of foliage, and a thrush
whistled melodious phrases from one of the highest boughs.
At his feet was spread a carpet of long soft moss, inter-
spersed with wild thyme and groups of delicate harebells,
and the rippling of a tiny stream into a hollow cavity of
stones made pleasant and soothing music. Charmed with
the tranquillity and loveliness of his surroundings, he de-
termined to stay here for a couple of hours, reading, and
perhaps sleeping, before resuming his journey. He had in
his pocket a shilling edition of Keats's poems which he
had bought in Bristol by way of a silent companion to his
thoughts, and he took it out and opened it now, reading
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 63
and re-reading some of the lines most dear and familiar to
hirn, when, as a boy, he had elected this poet, so wickedly
done to death ere his prime by commonplace critics, as one
of his chief favourites among the highest Singers. And
his lips, half-murmuring, followed the verse which tells
of that
" untrodden region of the mind,
Where branched thoughts, new-grown with pleasant pain,
Instead of pines, shall murmur in the wind;
Far, far around shall these dark clustered trees,
Fledge the wild ridged mountains steep by steep,
And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds and bees,
The moss-lain Dryads shall be lulled to sleep ;
And in the midst of this wide quietness,
A rosy sanctuary will I dress
With the wreathed trellis of a working brain,
With buds and bells and stars without a name,
With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign,
Who, breeding flowers, will never breed the same ;
And there shall be for thee all soft delight,
That shadowy thought can win,
A bright torch and a casement ope at night,
To let the warm Love in ! "
A slight sigh escaped him.
" How perfect is that stanza ! " he said. " How I used
to believe in all it suggested ! And how, when I was a
young man, my heart was like that ' casement ope at night,
to let the warm Love in ! ' But Love never came, only a
spurious will-o'-the-wisp imitation of Love. I wonder if
many people in this world are not equally deceived with
myself in their conceptions of this divine passion? All the
poets and romancists may be wrong, and Lucy Sorrel, with
her hard materialism encasing her youth like a suit of steel
armour, may be right. Boys and girls ' love,' so they say, -
men and women ' love ' and marry and with marriage, the
wondrous light that led them on and dazzled them, seems,
in nine cases out of ten, to suddenly expire ! Taking myself
as an example, I cannot say that actual marriage made me
happy. It was a great disillusion ; a keen disappointment.
The birth of my sons certainly gave me some pleasure as
well as latent hope, for as little children they were lovable
and lovely ; but as boys as men what bitterness they
brought me ! Were they the heirs of Love ? Nay ! surely
Love never generated such callous hearts ! They were the
double reflex of their mother's nature, grasping all and giv-
64 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ing nothing. Is there no such virtue on earth as pure un-
selfish Love? love that gives itself freely, unasked, with-
out hope of advantage or reward and without any per-
sonal motive lurking behind its offered tenderness ? "
He turned over the pages of the book he held, with a
vague idea that some consoling answer to his thoughts
would flash out in a stray line or stanza, like a beacon light-
ing up the darkness of a troubled sea. But no such cheer-
ing word met his eyes. Keats is essentially the poet of the
young, and for the old he has no comfort. Sensuous, pas-
sionate, and almost cloying in the excessive sweetness of
his amorous muse, he offers no support to the wearied
spirit, no sense of strength or renewal to the fagged brain.
He does not grapple with the hard problems of life ; and his
mellifluous murmurings of delicious fantasies have no place
in the poignant griefs and keen regrets of those who have
passed the meridian of earthly hopes, and who see the
shadows of the long night closing in. And David Helms-
ley realised this all suddenly, with something of a pang.
" I am too old for Keats," he said in a half-whisper to
the leafy branches that bowed their weight of soft green
shelteringly over him. " Too old ! Too old for a poet in
whose imaginative work I used to take such deep delight.
There is something strange in this, for I cherished a belief
that fine poetry would fit every time and every age, and that
no matter how heavy the burden of years might be, I should
always be able to forget myself and my sorrows in a poet's
immortal creations. But I have left Keats behind me. He
was with me in the sunshine, he does not follow me into
the shade."
A cloud of melancholy darkened his worn features, and
he slowly closed the book. He felt that it was from hence-
forth a sealed letter. For him the half-sad, half-scornful
musings of Omar Khayyam were more fitting, such as the
lines that run thus:
" Fair wheel of heaven, silvered with many a star,
Whose sickly arrows strike us from afar,
Never a purpose to my soul was dear,
But heaven crashed down my little dream to mar.
Never a bird within my sad heart sings
But heaven a flaming stone of thunder flings;
O valiant wheel ! O most courageous heaven,
To leave me lonely with the broken wings ! "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 65
A stinging pain, as of tears that rose but would not fall,
troubled his eyes. He passed his hand across them, and
leaned back against the sturdy trunk of the elm which served
him for the moment as a protecting haven of rest. The
gentle murmur of the bees among the clover, the soft sub-
dued twittering of the birds, and the laughing ripple of the
little stream hard by, all combined to make one sweet mono-
tone of sound which lulled his senses to a drowsiness that
gradually deepened into slumber. He made a pathetic figure
enough, lying fast asleep there among the wilderness of
green, a frail and apparently very poor old man, adrift
and homeless, without a friend in the world. The sun sank,
and a crimson after-glow spread across the horizon from
west to east, the rich colours flung up from the centre of the
golden orb merging by slow degrees into that pure pearl-
grey which marks the long and lovely summer twilight of
English skies. The air was very still, not so much as the
rumble of a distant cart wheel disturbing the silence. Pres-
ently, however, the slow shuffle of hesitating footsteps
sounded through the muffling thickness of the dust, and a
man made his appearance on the top of the little rising
where the lane climbed up into a curve of wild-rose hedge
and honeysuckle which almost hid the actual road from
view. He was not a prepossessing object in the landscape;
short and squat, unkempt and dirty, and clad in rough gar-
ments which were almost past hanging together, he looked
about as uncouth and ugly a customer as one might expect
to meet anywhere on a lonely road at nightfall. He carried
a large basket on his back, seemingly full of weeds, the
rope which supported it was tied across his chest, and he
clasped this rope with both hands crossed in the middle,
after the fashion of a praying monk. Smoking a short
black pipe, he trudged along, keeping his eyes fixed on the
ground with steady and almost surly persistence, till arriving
at the tree where Helmsley lay, he paused, and lifting his
head stared long and curiously at the sleeping man. Then,
unclasping his hands, he lowered his basket to the ground
and set it down. Stealthily creeping close up to Helmsley 's
side, he examined the prone figure from head to foot with
quick and eager scrutiny. Spying the little volume of Keats
on the grass where it had dropped from the slumberer's
relaxed hand, he took it up gingerly, turning over its pages
with grimy thumb and finger.
66 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Portry ! " he ejaculated. " Glory be good to me ! 'E's
a reg'ler noddy none-such ! An' measly old enuff to know
better!"
He threw the book on the grass again with a sniff of con-
tempt. At that moment Helmsley stirred, and opening his
eyes fixed them full and inquiringly on the lowering face
above him.
" 'Ullo, gaffer ! Woke up, 'ave yer ? " said the man gruf-
fly. "Offyerlay?"
Helmsley raised himself on one elbow, looking a trifle
dazed.
" Off my what ? " he murmured. " I didn't quite hear
you "
" Oh come, stow that ! " said the man. " You dunno
what I'm talkin' about; that's plain as a pike. You aint
used to the road! Where d'ye come from?"
" I've walked from Bristol," he answered "And you're
quite right, I'm not used to the road."
The man looked at him and his hard face softened. Push-
ing back his tattered cap from his brows he showed his
features more openly, and a smile, half shrewd, half kindly,
made them suddenly pleasant.
"Av coorse you're not ! " he declared. " Glory be good
to me! I've tramped this bit o' road for years, an' never
come across such a poor old chuckle-headed gammer as you
sleepin' under a tree afore ! Readin' portry an' droppin' to
by-by over it ! The larst man as iver I saw a' readin' portry
was wh'at they called a ' Serious Sunday ' man, an' 'e's doin'
time now in Portland."
Helmsley smiled. He was amused ; his " adventures,"
he thought, were beginning. To be called " a poor old
chuckle-headed gammer " was a new and almost delightful
experience.
" Portland's an oncommon friendly place," went on his
uninvited companion. " Once they gits ye, they likes ye to
stop. 'Taint like the fash'nable quality what says to their
friends : ' Do-ee come an' stay wi' me, loveys ! ' wishin' all
the while as they wouldn't. Portland takes ye willin',
whether ye likes it or not, an' keeps ye so fond that ye can't
git away nohow. Oncommon 'ospitable Portland be ! "
And he broke into a harsh laugh. Then he glanced
at Helmsley again with a more confiding and favour-
able eye.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 67
" Ye seems a 'spectable sort," he said. " What's .wrong
wi' ye ? Out o' work ? "
Helmsley nodded.
"Turned off, eh? Too old?"
" That's about it ! " he answered.
" Well, ye do look a bit of a shivery-shake, a kind o* not-
long-for-this-world," said the man. " Howsomiver, we'se
be all 'elpless an' 'omeless soon, for the Lord hisself don't
stop a man growin' old, an' under the new ways o' the world,
it's a reg'lar crime to run past forty. I'm sixty, an' I gits
my livin' my own way, axin' nobody for the kind permission.
That's my fortin ! "
And he pointed to the basket of weedy stuff which he
had just set down. Helmsley looked at it with some
curiosity.
"What's in it? "he asked.
" What's in it? What's not in it! " And the man gave
a gesture of mingled pride and defiance. " There's all what
the doctors makes their guineas out of with their purr-escrip-
tions, for they can't purr-escribe no more than is in that
there basket without they goes to minerals. An' minerals
is rank poison to ivery 'uman body. But so far as 'erbs an'
seeds, an' precious stalks an' flowers is savin' grace for man
an' beast, Matthew Peke's got 'em all in there. An' Mat-
thew Peke wouldn't be the man he is, if he didn't know
where to find 'em better'n any livin' soul iver born ! Ah !
an' there aint a toad in a hole hoppin' out between Quan-
tocks an' Cornwall as hasn't seen Matthew Peke gatherin'
the blessin' an' health o' the fields at rise o' sun an' set o'
moon, spring, summer, autumn, ay, an' even winter, all the
year through ! "
Helmsley became interested.
"And you are the man ! " he said questioningly " You
are Matthew Peke ? "
"I am ! An' proud so ter be ! An' you 'ave yer got a
name for the arskin' ? "
" Why, certainly ! " And Helmsley's pale face flushed.
" My name is David."
" Chrisen name ? Surname ? "
" Both."
Matthew Peke shook his head.
" 'Twon't fadge ! " he declared. " It don't sound right.
It's like th' owld Bible an' the Book o' Kings where there's
68 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
nowt but Jews ; an' Jews is the devil to pay wheriver you
finds 'em ! "
" I'm not a Jew," said Helmsley, smiling-.
"Mebbe not mebbe not but yer name's awsome like it.
An' if ye put it short, like D. David, that's just Damn David
an' nothin' plainer. Aint it ? "
Helmsley laughed.
" Exactly ! " he said " You're right ! Damn David suits
me down to the ground ! "
Peke looked at him dubiously, as one who is not quite
sure of his man.
" You're a rum old sort ! " he said ; " an' I tell ye what it
is you're as tired as a dog limpin' on three legs as has
nipped his fourth in a weasel-trap. Wheer are ye goin'
onto?"
" I don't know," answered Helmsley " I'm a stranger
to this part of the country. But I mean to tramp it to the
nearest village. I slept out in the open yesterday, I think
I'd like a shelter over me to-night."
" Got any o' the King's pictures about ye ? " asked Peke.
Helmsley looked, as he felt, bewildered.
"The King's pictures?" he echoed "You mean ?"
" This ! " and Peke drew out of his tattered trouser pocket
a dim and blackened sixpence " 'Ere 'e is, as large as life,
a bit bald about the top o' 'is blessed old 'ead, Glory be good
to 'im, but as useful as if all 'is 'air was still a blowin' an' a
growin'! Aint that the King's picture, D. David? Don't
it say 'Edwardus VII. D. G. Britt.,' which means Edward
the Seventh, thanks be to God Britain? Don't it?"
" It do \ " replied Helmsley emphatically, taking a fan-
tastic pleasure in the bad grammar of his reply. " I've got
a few more pictures of the same kind," and he took out two
or three loose shillings and pennies " Can we get a night's
lodging about here for that ? "
"Av coorse we can ! I'll take ye to a place where ye'll be
as welcome as the flowers in May with Matt Peke in-
terroducin' of ye. Two o' them thank-God Britts in
silver will set ye up wi' a plate o' wholesome food an' a
clean bed at the 'Trusty Man.' It's a pub, but Miss
Tranter what keeps it is an old maid, an' she's that proud
o' the only ' Trusty Man ' she ever 'ad that she calls it
an 'Otel!"
He grinned good-humouredly at what he considered his
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 69
own witticism concerning 1 the little weakness of Miss Tran-
ter, and proceeded to shoulder his basket.
"You aint proud, are ye?" he said, as he turned his fer-
ret-brown eyes on Helmsley inquisitively.
Helmsley, who had, quite unconsciously to himself, drawn
up his spare figure in his old habitual way of standing very
erect, with that composed air of dignity and resolution which
those who knew him personally in business were well accus-
tomed to, started at the question.
" Proud ! " he exclaimed " I ? What have I to be proud
of? I'm the most miserable old fellow in the world, my
friend! You may take my word for that! There's not a
soul that cares a button whether I live or die ! I'm seventy
years of age out of work, and utterly wretched and friend-
less ! Why the devil should / be proud ? "
" Well, if ye never was proud in yer life, ye can be now,"
said Peke condescendingly, " for I tell ye plain an' true that
if Matt Peke walks with a tramp on this road, every one
round the Quantocks knows as how that tramp aint alto-
gether a raskill! I've took ye up on trust as 'twere, likin'
yer face for all that it's thin an' mopish, an' steppin' in wi'
me to the 'Trusty Man' will mebbe give ye a character.
Anyways, I'll do my best for ye ! "
" Thank you," said Helmsley simply.
Again Peke looked at him, and again seemed troubled.
Then, stuffing his pipe full of tobacco, he lit it and stuck it
sideways between his teeth.
" Now tome along ! " he said. " You're main old, but ye
must put yer best foot foremost all the same. We've more'n
an hour's trampin' up hill an' down dale, an' the dew's be-
ginnin' to fall. Keep goin' slow an' steady I'll give ye a
hand."
For a moment Helmsley hesitated. This shaggy, rough,
uncouth herb-gatherer evidently regarded him as very feeble
and helpless, and, out of a latent kindliness of nature,
wished to protect him and see him to some safe shelter for
the night. Nevertheless, he hated the position. Old as he
knew himself to be, he resented being pitied for his age,
while his mind was yet so vigorous and his heart felt still so
warm and young. Yet the commonplace fact remained that
he was very tired, very worn out, and conscious that only
a good rest would enable him to continue his journey with
comfort. Moreover, his experiences at the " Trusty Man "
70 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
might prove interesting. It was best to take what came in
his way, even though some episodes should possibly turn
out less pleasing than instructive. So putting aside all
scruples, he started to walk beside his ragged comrade of
the road, finding, with some secret satisfaction, that after a
few paces his own step was light and easy compared to the
heavy shuffling movement with which Peke steadily trudged
along. Sweet and pungent odours of the field and wood-
land floated from the basket of herbs as it swung slightly to
and fro on its bearer's shoulders, and amid the slowly dark-
ening shadows of evening, a star of sudden silver brilliance
sparkled out in the sky.
" Yon's the first twinkler," said Peke, seeing it at once,
though his gaze was apparently fixed on the ground. " The
love-star's allus up early o' nights to give the men an' maids
a chance ! "
"Yes, Venus is the evening star just now," rejoined
Helmsley, half-absently.
" Stow Venus ! That's a reg'lar fool's name," said Peke
surlily. " Where did ye git it from ? That aint no Venus,
that's just the love-star, an' it'll be nowt else in these parts
till the world-without-end-amen ! "
Helmsley made no answer. He walked on patiently, his
limbs trembling a little with fatigue and nervous exhaustion.
But Peke's words had started the old dream of his life again
into being, the latent hope within him, which though often
half-killed, was not yet dead, flamed up like newly kindled
vital fire in his mind, and he moved as in a dream, his eyes
fixed on the darkening heavens and the brightening star.
CHAPTER VI
THEY plodded on together side by side for some time in
unbroken silence. At last, after a short but stiff climb up a
rough piece of road which terminated in an eminence com-
manding a wide and uninterrupted view of the surrounding
Country, they paused. The sea lay far below them, dimly
covered by the gathering darkness, and the long swish and
roll of the tide could be heard sweeping to and from
the shore like the grave and graduated rhythm of organ
music.
" We'd best 'ave a bit of a jabber to keep us goin'," said
Peke, then " Jabberin' do pass time, as the wimin can prove
t' ye; an' arter such a jumblegut lane as this, it'll seem less
lonesome. We're off the main road to towns an' sich like
this is a bye, an' 'ere it stops. We'll 'ave to git over yon
stile an' cross the fields 'taint an easy nor clean way, but
it's the best goin'. We'll see the lights o' the ' Trusty Man *
just over the brow o' the next hill."
Helmsley drew a long breath, and sat down on a stone
by the roadside. Peke surveyed him critically.
" Poor old gaffer ! Knocked all to pieces, aint ye ! Not
used to the road ? Glory be good to me ! I should think
ye wornt ! Short in yer wind an' w r eak on yer pins ! I'd as
soon see my old grandad trampin' it as you. Look 'ere!
Will ye take a dram out o' this 'ere bottle ? "
He held up the bottle he spoke of, it was black, and
untemptingly dirty. Yet there was such a good-natured ex-
pression in the man's eyes, and so much honest solicitude
written on his rough bearded face, that Helmsley felt it
would be almost like insulting him to refuse his invitation.
" Tell me what's in it first! " he said, smiling.
" 'Taint whisky," said Peke. "And 'taint brandy neither.
Nor rum. Nor gin. Nor none o' them vile stuffs which
brewers makes as arterwards goes to Parl'ment on the
profits of 'avin' poisoned their consti/ooants. 'Tis nowt
but just yerb wine."
" Yerb wine? Wine made of herbs?"
71
72 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" That's it ! 'Erbs or yerbs I aint pertikler which I sez
both. This," and he shook the bottle he held vigorously
" is genuine yerb wine an' made as I makes it, what do the
Wise One say of it ? 'E sez : ' It doth strengthen the heart
of a man mightily, and refresheth the brain ; drunk fasting,
it braceth up the sinews and maketh the old feel young ; it is
of rare virtue to expel all evil humours, and if princes should
drink of it oft it would be but an ill service to the world, as
they might never die ! ' '
Peke recited these words slowly and laboriously; it was
evident that he had learned them by heart, and that the
effort of remembering them correctly was more or less pain-
ful to him.
Helmsley laughed, and stretched out his hand.
"Give it over here!" he said. "It's evidently just the
.'Stuff for me. How much shall I take at one go ? "
Peke uncorked the precious fluid with care, smelt it, and
nodded appreciatively.
" Swill it all if ye like," he remarked graciously.
' 'Twont hurt ye, an' there's more where that came from.
It's cheap enuff, too nature don't keep it back from no
man. On'y there aint a many got sense enuff to thank the
S^ord when it's offered."
f* As he thus talked, Helmsley took the bottle from him and
tasted its contents. The " yerb wine " was delicious. More
grateful to his palate than Chambertin or Clos Vougeot, it
warmed and invigorated him, and he took a long draught,
Matthew Peke watching him drink it with great satisfaction.
" Let the yerbs run through yer veins for two or three
minits, an' ye'll step across yon fields as light as a bird
'oppin' to its nest," he declared. " Talk o' tonics, there's
more tonic in a handful o' green stuff growin' as the Lord
makes it to grow, than all the purr-escriptions what's sent
out o' them big 'ouses in 'Arley Street, London, where the
doctors sits from ten to two like spiders waitin' for flies, an'
gatherin' in the guineas for lookin' at fools' tongues. Glory
be good to me! If all the world were as sick as it's silly,
there'd be nowt wantin' to 't but a grave an' a shovel ! "
Helmsley smiled, and taking another pull at the black
bottle, declared himself much better and ready to go on.
iHe was certainly refreshed, and the weary aching of his
limbs which had made every step of the road painful and
difficult to him, was gradually passing off.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 73
" You are very good to me," he said, as he returned the
remainder of the " yerb wine " to its owner. " I wonder
why?"
Peke took a draught of his mixture before replying.
Then corking the bottle, he thrust it in his pocket.
" Ye wonders why ? " And he uttered a sound between
a grunt and a chuckle " Ye may do that ! I wonders
myself ! "
And, giving his basket a hitch, he resumed his slow
trudging movement onward.
" You see," pursued Helmsley, keeping up the pace beside
him, and beginning to take pleasure in the conversation
" I may be anything or anybody "
" Ye may that," agreed Peke, his eyes fixed as usual on
the ground. " Ye may be a jail-bird or a missioner,
they'se much of a muchity, an' goes on the road lookin' quite
simple like, an' the simpler they seems the deeper they is.
White 'airs an' feeble legs 'elps 'em along considerable,
nowt's better stock-in-trade than tremblin' shins. Or ye
might be a War-office neglect, ye looks a bit set that way."
" What's a War-office neglect ? " asked Helmsley,
laughing.
" One o' them totterin' old chaps as was in the Light
Brigade," answered Peke. " There's no end to 'em.
They'se all over every road in the country. All of 'em
fought wi' Lord Cardigan, an' all o' 'em's driven to starve
by an ungrateful Gov'ment. They won't be all dead an'
gone till a hundred years 'as rolled away, an' even then I
shouldn't wonder if one or two was still left on the tramp
a-pipin' his little 'arf-a-league onard tale o' woe to the first
softy as forgits the date o' the battle." Here he gave an
inquisitive side-glance at his companion. " But you aint
quite o' the Balaclava make an' colour. Yer shoulders is
millingterry, but yer 'ead is business. Ye might be a gen-
tleman if 'twornt for yer clothes."
Helmsley heard this definition of himself without
flinching.
" I might be a thief," he said " or an escaped convict.
You've been kind to me without knowing whether I am one
or the other, or both. And I want to know why ? "
Peke stopped in his walk. They had come to the stile over
which the way lay across the fields, and he rested himself
and his basket for a moment against it.
74 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Why ? " he repeated, then suddenly raising one hand,
he whispered, " Listen ! Listen to the sea ! "
The evening had now almost closed in, and all around
them the country lay dark and solitary, broken here and
there by tall groups of trees which at night looked like sable
plumes, standing stiff and motionless in the stirless summer
air. Thousands of stars flashed out across this blackness,
throbbing in their orbits with a quick pulsation as of uneasy
hearts beating with nameless and ungratified longing. And
through the tense silence came floating a long, sweet, pas-
sionate cry, a shivering moan of pain that touched the
edge of joy, a song without words, of pleading and of
prayer, as of a lover, who, debarred from the possession of
the beloved, murmurs his mingled despair and hope to the
unsubstantial dream of his own tortured soul. The sea was
calling to the earth, calling to her in phrases of eloquent
and urgent music, caressing her pebbly shores with wind-
ing arms of foam, and showering kisses of wild spray against
her rocky bosom. " If I could come to thee ! If thou
couldst come to me ! " was the burden of the waves, the
ceaseless craving of the finite for the infinite, which is, and
ever shall be, the great chorale of life. The shuddering
sorrow of that low rhythmic boom of the waters rising and
falling fathoms deep under cliffs which the darkness veiled
from view, awoke echoes from the higher hills around, and
David Helmsley, lifting his eyes to the countless planet-
worlds sprinkled thick as flowers in the patch of sky imme-
diately above him, suddenly realised with a pang how near
he was to death, how very near to that final drop into the
unknown where the soul of man is destined to find All or
Nothing! He trembled, not with fear, but with a kind
of anger at himself for having wasted so much of his life.
What had he done, with all his toil and pains? He had
gathered a multitude of riches. Well, and then? Then,
why then, and now, he had found riches but vain getting.
Life and Death were still, as they have always been, the two
supreme Facts of the universe. Life, as ever, asserted itself
with an insistence demanding something far more enduring
than the mere possession of gold, and the power which gold
brings. And Death presented its unwelcome aspect in the
same perpetual way as the Last Recorder who, at the end
of the day, closes up accounts with a sum-total paid exactly
in proportion to the work done. No more, and no less.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 75
And with Helmsley these accounts were reaching a figure
against which his whole nature fiercely rebelled, the figure
of Nought, showing no value in his life's efforts or its re-
sults. And the sound of the sea to-night in his ears was
more full of reproach than peace.
" When the water moans like that," said Peke softly,
under his breath, " it seems to me as if all the tongues of
drowned sailors 'ad got into it an' was beggin' of us not to
forget 'em lyin' cold among the shells an' weed. An' not
only the tongues o' them seems a-speakin' an' a-cryin', but
all the stray bones o' them seems to rattle in the rattle o' the
foam. It goes through ye sharp, like a knife cuttin' a sour
apple ; an' it's made me wonder many a time why we was all
put 'ere to git drowned or smashed or choked off or beat
down somehows just when we don't expect it. Howsom-
iver, the Wise One sez it's all right ! "
"And who is the Wise One ? " asked Helmsley, trying to
rouse himself from the heavy thoughts engendered in his
mind by the wail of the sea.
" The Wise One was a man what wrote a book a 'underd
years ago about 'erbs," said Peke. " 'The Way o' Long
Life' it's called, an' my father an' grandfather and great-
grandfather afore 'em 'ad the book, an' I've got it still,
though I shows it to nobody, for nobody but me wouldn't
unnerstand it. My father taught me my letters from it, an'
I could spell it out when I was a kid I've growed up on it,
an' it's all I ever reads. It's 'ere " and he touched his
ragged vest. " I trusts it to keep me goin' 'ale an' 'arty till
I'm ninety, an' that's drawin' it mild, for my father lived
till a 'underd, an' then on'y went through slippin' on a wet
stone an' breakin' a bone in 'is back ; an' my grandfather
saw 'is larst Christmas at a 'underd an' ten, an' was up to
kissin' a wench under the mistletoe, 'e was sich a chirpin'
old gamecock. 'E didn't look no older'n you do now, an'
you're a chicken compared to 'im. You've wore badly like,
not knowin' the use o' yerbs."
" That's it ! " said Helmsley, now following his companion
over the stile and into the dark dewy fields beyond " I
need the advice of the Wise" One ! Has he any remedy for
old age, I wonder ? "
"Ay, now there ye treads on my fav'rite corn ! " and Peke
shook his head with a curious air of petulance. " That's
what I'm a-lookin' for day an' night, for the Wise One 'as
76 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
got a bit in 'is book which 'e's cropped out o' another Wise
One's sayin's, a chap called Para-Cel-Sus " and Peke
pronounced this name in three distinct and well-divided
syllables. "An' this N is what it is : ' Take the leaves of the
Daura, which prevent those who use it from dying for a
hundred and twenty years. In the same way the flower of
the secta croa brings a hundred years to those who use it,
whether they be of lesser or of longer age.' I've been on
the 'unt for the ' Daura ' iver since I was twenty, an' I've
arskt ivery 'yerber I've ivir met for the 'Secta Croa,' an' all
I've 'ad sed to me is ' Go 'long wi' ye for a loony jackass !
There aint no sich thing.' But jackass or no, I'm of a mind
to think there is such things as both the ' Daura ' an' the
' Secta Croa,' if I on'y knew the English of 'em. An'
s'posin' I ivir found 'em "
" You would become that most envied creature of the
present age, a millionaire," said Helmsley ; " you could
command your own terms for the wonderful leaves, you
would cease to tramp the road or to gather herbs, and you
would live in luxury like a king ! "
" Not I ! " and Peke gave a grunt of contempt. " Kings
aint my notion of 'appiness nor 'onesty neither. They does
things often for which some o' the poor 'ud be put in quod,
an' no mercy showed 'em, an' yet 'cos they're kings they
gits off. An' I aint great on millionaires neither. They'se
mis'able ricketty coves, all gone to pot in their in'ards
through grubbin' money an' eatin' of it like, till ivery other
kind o' food chokes 'em. There's a chymist in London what
pays me five shillings an ounce for a little green yerb I
knows on, cos' it's the on'y med'cine as keeps a millionaire
customer of 'is a-goin'. I finds the yerb, an' the chymist
gits the credit. I gits five shillin', an' the chymist gits a
guinea. That's all right ! / don't mind ! I on'y gathers,
the chymist, 'e's got to infuse the yerb, distil an' bottle it.
I'm paid my price, an 'e's paid 'is. All's fair in love an'
war!"
He trudged on, his footsteps now rendered almost noise-
less by the thick grass on which he trod. The heavy dew
sparkled on every blade, and here and there the pale green
twinkle of a glow-worm shone like a jewel dropped from
a lady's gown. Helmsley walked beside his companion at
an even pace, the " yerb wine " had undoubtedly put
strength in him and he was almost unconscious of his former
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 77
excessive fatigue. He was interested in Peke's " jabber,"
and wondered, somewhat enviously, why such a man as
this, rough, ragged, and uneducated, should seem to possess
a contentment such as he had never known.
" Millionaires is gin'rally fools," continued Peke ; " they
buys all they wants, an' then they aint got nothin' more to
live for. They gits into motor-cars an' scours the country,
but they never sees it. They never 'ears the birds singin',
an' they misses all the flowers. They never smells the vi'lets
nor the mayblossom they on'y gits their own petrol stench
wi' the flavour o' the dust mixed in. Larst May I was
a-walkin' in the lanes o' Devon, an' down the 'ill comes a
motor-car tearin' an' scorchin' for all it was worth, an' bang
went somethin' at the bottom o' the thing, an' it stops sud-
dint. Out jumps a French chauffy, parly vooin' to hisself,
an' out jumps the man what owns it an' takes off his gog-
gles. ' This is Devonshire, my man ? ' sez 'e to me. ' It
is,' I sez to 'im. An' then the cuckoo started callin' away
over the trees. ' What's that ? ' sez 'e lookin' startled like.
' That's the cuckoo,' sez I. An' he takes off 'is 'at an' rubs
'is 'ead, which was a' fast goin' bald. ' Dear, dear me ! '
sez 'e ' I 'aven't 'card the cuckoo since I was a boy ! ' An'
he rubs 'is 'ead again, an' laughs to hisself ' Not since
I was a boy ! ' 'e sez. ' An' that's the cuckoo, is it ? Dear,
dear me ! ' ' You 'aven't bin much in the country p'r'aps ? '
sez I. ' I'm always in the country,' 'e sez ' I motor every-
where, but I've missed the cuckoo somehow ! ' An' then
the chauffy puts the machine right, an' he jumps in an'
gives me a shillin'. ' Thank-ye, my man ! ' sez 'e Tm glad
you told me 'twas a real cuckoo ! ' Hor er hor er
hor er ! " And Peke gave vent to a laugh peculiarly his
own. " Mebbe 'e thought I'd got a Swiss clock with a sham
cuckoo workin' it in my basket ! ' I'm glad,' sez 'e, ' you
told me 'twas a real cuckoo ! ' Hor er hor er
hor er!"
The odd chuckling sounds of merriment which were
slowly jerked forth as it were from Peke's husky wind-
pipe, were droll enough in themselves to be somewhat
infectious, and Helmsley laughed as he had not done for
many days.
" Ay, there's a mighty sight of tringum-trangums an'
nonsense i' the world," went on Peke, still occasionally giv-
ing vent to a suppressed " Hor er hor " " an' any
78 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
amount o' Tom Conys what don't know a real cuckoo from
a sham un'. Glory be good to me ! Think o' the numskulls
as goes in for pendlecitis! There's a fine name for ye!
Pendlecitis! Hor er hor! All the fash'nables 'as got
it, an' all the doctors 'as their knives sharpened an' ready
to cut off the remains o' the tail we 'ad when we was all
'appy apes together ! Hor er hor ! An' the bit o' tail 's
curled up in our in'ards now where it ain't got no business
to be. Which shows as 'ow Natur' don't know 'ow to do
it, seein' as if we 'adn't wanted a tail, she'd a' took it sheer
off an' not left any behind. But the doctors thinks they
knows a darn sight better'n Natur', an' they'll soon be givin'
lessons in the makin' o' man to the Lord A'mighty hisself I
Hor er hor! Pendlecitis! That's a precious monkey's
tail, that there! In my grandfather's day we didn't 'ear
'bout no monkey's tails, 'twas just a chill an' inflammation
o' the in'ards, an' a few yerbs made into a tea an' drunk 'ot
fastin', cured it in twenty-four hours. But they've so
many new-fangled notions nowadays, they've forgot all the
old 'uns. There's the cancer illness, people goes off all
over the country now from cancer as never used to in
my father's day, an' why ? 'Cos they'se gittin' too wise for
Nature's own cure. Nobody thinks o' tryin' agrimony,
water agrimony some calls it water hemp an' bastard agri-
mony 'tis a thing that flowers in this month an' the next,
a brown-yellow blossom on a purple stalk, an' ye find it
in cold places, in ponds an' ditches an' by runnin' waters.
Make a drink of it, an' it'll mend any cancer, if 'taint too
far gone. An' a cancer that's outside an' not in, 'ull clean
away beautiful wi' the 'elp o' red clover. Even the juice
o' nettles, which is common enough, drunk three times a
day will kill any germ o' cancer, while it'll set up the blood
as fresh an' bright as iver. But who's a-goin' to try com-
mon stuff like nettles an' clover an' water hemp, when there's
doctors sittin' waitin' wi' knives an' wantin' money for cuttin'
up their patients an' 'urryin' 'em into kingdom-come afore
their time ! Glory be good to me ! What wi' doctors an'
'omes an' nusses, an' all the fuss as a sick man makes about
hisself in these days, I'd rather be as I am, Matt Peke,
a-wanderin' by hill an' dale, an' lyin' down peaceful to die
under a tree when my times comes, than take any part wi'
the pulin' cowards as is afraid o' cold an' fever an' wet
feet an' the like, just as if they was poor little shiverin' mice
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 79
instead o' men. Take 'em all round, the wimin's the
bravest at bearin' pain, they'll smile while they'se burnin'
so as it sha'n't ill-convenience anybody. Wonderful suf-
ferers, is wimin ! "
" Yet they are selfish enough sometimes," said Helmsley,
quickly.
" Selfish ? Wheer was ye born, D. David ? " queried Peke
" An' what wimin 'ave ye know'd ? Town or country ? "
Helmsley was silent.
" Arsk no questions an' ye'll be told no lies ! " commented
Peke, with a chuckle. " I sees ! Ye've bin a gay old
chunk in yer time, mebbe ! An' it's the wimin as goes in
for gay old chunks as ye've made all yer larnin of. But
they ain't wimin not as the country knows 'em. Country
wimin works all day an' as often as not dandles a babby
all night, they've not got a minnit but what they aint
a-troublin' an' a-worryin' 'bout 'usband or childer, an' their
faces is all writ over wi' the curse o' the garden of Eden.
Selfish ? They aint got the time ! Up at cock-crow, scrub-
bin' the floors, washin' the babies, feedin' the fowls or the
pigs, peelin' the taters, makin' the pot boil, an' tryin' to
make out 'ow twelve shillin's an' sixpence a week can be
made to buy a pound's worth o' food, trapsin' to market,
an' wonderin' whether the larst born in the cradle aint
somehow got into the fire while mother's away, 'opin' an'
prayin' for the Lord's sake as 'usband don't come 'ome
blind drunk, where's the room for any selfishness in sich
a life as that? the life lived by 'undreds o' wimin all over
this 'ere blessed free country ? Ger 'long wi' ye, D. David !
Old as y' are, ye 'ad a mother in yer time, an' I'll take my
Gospel oath there was a bit o' good in 'er ! "
Helmsley stopped abruptly in his walk.'
" You are right, man ! " he said, " And I am wrong !
You know women better than I do, and you give me a
lesson ! One is never too old to learn," and he smiled a
rather pained smile. " But I have had a bad experience ! "
" Well, if y'ave 'ad it ivir so bad, yer 'xperience aint every-
one's, " retorted Peke. " If one fly gits into the soup, that
don't argify that the hull pot 's full of 'em. An' there's
more good wimin than bad takin' 'em all round an' in-
cludin' 'op pickers, gypsies an' the like. Even Miss Tranter
aint wantin' in feelin', though she's a bit sour like, owin'
to 'avin missed a 'usband an' all the savin" worrity wear-an-
80 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
tear a 'usband brings, but she aint arf bad. Yon's the lamp
of 'er ' Trusty Man ' now."
A gleam of light, not much larger than the glitter of one
of the glow-worms in the grass, was just then visible at the
end of the long field they were traversing.
" That's an old cart-road down there wheer it stands,"
continued Peke. " As bad a road as ivir was made, but
it runs straight into Devonshire, an' it's a good place for
a pub. For many a year 'twornt used, bein' so rough an'
ready, but now there's such a crowd o' motors tearin, over
Countisbury '111, the carts takes it, keepin' more to their-
selves like, an' savin' smashin'. Miss Tranter she knew
what she was a-doin' of when she got a licence an' opened
'er bizniss. 'Twas a ramshackle old farm-'ouse, goin' all
to pieces when she bought it an' put up 'er sign o' the
'Trusty Man,' an' silly wenches round 'ere do say as 'ow
it's 'aunted, owin' to the man as 'ad it afore Miss Tranter,
bein' found dead in 'is bed with 'is 'ands a-clutchin' a pack
o' cards. An' the ace o' spades that's death was turned
uppermost. So they goes chatterin' an' chitterin' as 'ow
the old chap 'ad been playin' cards wi' the devil, an' got
a bad end. But Miss Tranter, she don't listen to maids'
gabble, she's doin' well, devil or no devil an' if any one
was to talk to 'er 'bout ghosteses an' sich-like, she'd wallop
'em out of 'er bar with a broom ! Ay, that she would ! She's
a powerful strong woman Miss Tranter, an' many's the
larker what's felt 'er 'and on 'is collar a-chuckin' 'im out
o' the ' Trusty Man ' neck an' crop for sayin' somethin' what
aint ezackly agreeable to 'er feelin's. She don't stand no
nonsense, an' though she's lib'ral with 'er pennorths an'
pints she don't wait till a man's full boozed 'fore lockin' up
the tap-room. ' Git to bed, yer hulkin' fools ! ' sez she,
' or ye may change my 'Otel for the Sheriff's.' An' they
all knuckles down afore 'er as if they was childer gettin'
spanked by their mother. Ah, she'd 'a made a grand wife
for a man ! 'E wouldn't 'ave 'ad no chance to make a pig
of hisself if she'd been anywheres round ! "
" Perhaps she won't take me in ! " suggested Helmsley.
" She will, an' that sartinly ! " said Peke. " She'll not
refuse bed an' board to any friend o' mine."
" Friend ! " Helmsley echoed the word wonderingly.
" Ay, friend ! Any one's a friend what trusts to ye on
the road, aint 'e? Leastways that's 'ow I take it."
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 81
"As I said before, you are very kind to me," murmured
Helmsley ; " and I have already asked you Why ? "
" There aint no rhyme nor reason in it," answered Peke.
" You 'elps a man along if ye sees 'e wants 'elpin', sure-/y,
that's nat'ral. 'Tis on'y them as is born bad as don't
'elp nothin' nor nobody. Ye're old an' fagged out, an' yer
face speaks a bit o' trouble that's enuff for me. Hi' y'
are ! hi' y' are, old ' Trusty Man ! ' '
And striding across a dry ditch which formed a kind
of entrenchment between the field and the road, Peke guided
his companion round a dark corner and brought him in
front of a long low building, heavily timbered, with queer
little lop-sided gable windows set in the slanting, red-tiled
roof. A sign-board swung over the door and a small
lamp fixed beneath it showed that it bore the crudely painted
portrait of a gentleman in an apron, spreading out both
hands palms upwards as one who has nothing to conceal,
the ideal likeness of the " Trusty Man " himself. The
door itself stood open, and the sound of male voices evinced
the presence of customers within. Peke entered without
ceremony, beckoning Helmsley to follow him, and made
straight for the bar, where a tall woman with remarkably
square shoulders stood severely upright, knitting.
" 'Evenin', Miss Tranter ! " said Peke, pulling off his
tattered cap. " Any room for poor lodgers ? "
Miss Tranter glanced at him, and then at his companion.
" That depends on the lodgers," she answered curtly.
"That's right! That's quite right, Miss!" said Peke
with propitiatory deference. " You 'se allus right whatso-
ever ye does an' sez! But yer knows me, yer knows
Matt Peke, don't yer?"
Miss Tranter smiled sourly, and her knitting needles
glittered like crossed knives as she finished a particular
row of stitches on which she was engaged before conde-
scending to reply. Then she said :
" Yes, I know you right enough, but I don't know your
company. I'm not taking up strangers."
" Lord love ye ! This aint a stranger ! " exclaimed Peke.
" This 'ere's old David, a friend o' mine as is out o' work
through gittin' more years on 'is back than the British
Gov'ment allows, an' Vs trampin' it to see 'is relations
afore 'e gits put to bed wi' a shovel. 'E's as 'armless as they
makes 'em, an' I've told 'im as 'ow ye' don't take in nowt
82 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
but 'spectable folk. Doant 'ee turn out an old gaffer like
'e be, fagged an' footsore, to sleep in open doant 'ee now,
there's a good soul ! "
Miss Tranter went on kitting rapidly. Presently she
turned her piercing gimlet grey eyes on Helmsley.
" Where do you come from, man ? " she demanded.
Helmsley lifted his hat with the gentle courtesy habitual
to him.
" From Bristol, ma'am."
"Tramping it?"
" Yes."
"Where are you going?"
" To Cornwall."
" That's a long way and a hard road," commented Miss
Tranter ; " You'll never get there ! "
Helmsley gave a slight deprecatory gesture, but said
nothing.
Miss Tranter eyed him more keenly.
" Are you hungry ? "
He smiled.
" Not very ! "
" That means you're half-starved without knowing it,"
she said decisively. " Go in yonder," and she pointed with
one of her knitting needles to the room beyond the bar
whence the hum of male voices proceeded. " I'll send you
some hot soup with plenty of stewed meat and bread in it.
An old man like you wants more than the road food. Take
him in, Peke ! "
"Didn't I tell ye!" ejaculated Peke, triumphantly look-
ing round at Helmsley. " She's one that's got 'er 'art in
the right place! I say, Miss Tranter, beggin' yer parding,
my friend aint a sponger, ye know ! 'E can pay ye a shillin'
or two for yer trouble ! "
Miss Tranter nodded her head carelessly.
" The food's threepence and the bed fourpence," she said.
" Breakfast in the morning, threepence, and two-pence for
the washing towel. That makes a shilling all told. Ale
and liquors extra."
With that she turned her back on them, and Peke, pulling
Helmsley by the arm, took him into the common room of
the inn, where there were several men seated round a
long oak table with " gate-legs " which must have been
turned by the handicraftsmen of the time of Henry the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 83
Seventh. Here Peke set down his basket of herbs in a cor-
ner, and addressed the company generally.
''' 'Evenin', mates ! All well an' 'arty ? "'
Three or four of the party gave gruff response. The
others sat smoking silently. One end of the table was
unoccupied, and to this Peke drew a couple of rush -bot-
tomed chairs with sturdy oak backs, and bade Helmsley
sit down beside him.
" It be powerful warm to-night ! " he said, taking off
his cap, and showing a disordered head of rough dark hair,
sprinkled with grey. " Powerful warm it be trampin' the
road, from sunrise to sunset, when the dust lies thick and
'eavy, an' all the country's dry for a drop o' rain."
" Wai, you aint got no cause to grumble at it," said a
fat-faced man in very dirty corduroys. " It's your chice,
an' your livin'! You likes the road, an' you makes your
grub on it ! 'Taint no use you findin' fault with the gettin'
o' your victuals ! "
" Who's findin' fault, Mister Bubble ? " asked Peke sooth-
ingly. " I on'y said 'twas powerful warm."
" An' no one but a sawny 'xpects it to be powerful cold
in July," growled Bubble " though some there is an' some
there be what cries fur snow in August, but I aint one
on 'em."
" No, 'e aint one on 'em," commented a burly farmer,
blowing away the foam from the brim of a tankard
of ale which was set on the table in front of him. " 'E
alluz takes just what cooms along easy loike, do Mizter
Bubble!"
There followed a silence. It was instinctively felt that
the discussion was hardly important enough to be con-
tinued. Moreover, every man in the room was conscious
of a stranger's presence, and each one cast a furtive glance
at Helmsley, who, imitating Peke's example, had taken off
his hat, and now sat quietly under the flickering light of
the oil lamp which was suspended from the middle of the,
ceiling. He himself was intensely interested in the turn
his wanderings had taken. There was a certain excitement
in his present position, he was experiencing the " new sen-
sation " he had longed for, and he realised it with the
fullest sense of enjoyment. To be one of the richest men
in the world, and yet to seem so miserably poor and help-
less as to be regarded with suspicion by such a class of
84 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
fellows as those among whom he was now seated, was de-
cidedly a novel way of acquiring an additional relish for
the varying chances and changes of life.
" Brought yer father along wi' ye, Matt ? " suddenly
asked a wizened little man of about sixty, with a questioning
grin on his hard weather-beaten features.
" I aint up to 'awkin' dead bodies out o' their graves
yet, Bill Bush," answered Peke. " Unless my old dad's
corpsy's turned to yerbs, which is more'n likely, I aint got
'im. This 'ere's a friend o' mine, Mister David e's out
o' work through the Lord's speshul dispensation an' rule
o' natur gettin' old ! "
A laugh went round, but a more favourable impression
towards Peke's companion was at once created by this in-
troduction.
" Sorry for ye ! " said the individual called Bill Bush,
nodding encouragingly to Helmsley. " I'm a bit that way
myself."
He winked, and again the company laughed. Bill was
known as one of the most daring and desperate poachers
in all the countryside, but as yet he had never been caught
in the act, and he was one of Miss Tranter's " respectable "
customers. But, truth to tell, Miss Tranter had some very
odd ideas of her own. One was that rabbits were vermin,
and that it was of no consequence how or by whom they
were killed. Another was that " wild game " belonged to
everybody, poor and rich. Vainly was it explained to her
that rich landowners spent no end of money on breeding and
preserving pheasants, grouse, and the like, she would hear
none of it.
" Stuff and nonsense," she said sharply. " The birds
breed by themselves quite fast enough if let alone, and the
Lord intended them so to do for every one's use and eating,
not for a few mean and selfish money-grubs who'd shoot
and sell their own babies if they could get game prices for
them ! "
And she had a certain sympathy with Bill Bush and his
nefarious proceedings. As long as he succeeded in evad-
ing the police, so long would he be welcome at the " Trusty
Man," but if once he were to be clapped into jail the door
of his favourite " public " would be closed to him. Not
that Miss Tranter was a woman who " went back," as the
saying is, on her friends, but she had to think of her licence,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 85
and could not afford to run counter to those authorities
who had the power to take it away from her.
" I'm a-shrivellin' away for want o' suthin' to do," pro-
ceeded Bill. " My legs aint no show at all to what they
once was."
And he looked down at those members complacently.
They were encased in brown velveteens much the worse
for wear, and in- shape resembled a couple of sticks with
a crook at the knees.
" I lost my sitiwation as gamekeeper to 'is Royal 'Ighness
the Dook o' Duncy through bein' too 'onest," he went on
with another wink. " 'Orful pertikler, the Dook was, no-
buddy was 'llowed to be 'onest wheer 'e was but 'imself!
Lord love ye! It don't do to be straight an' square in this
world ! "
Helmsley listened to this bantering talk, saying nothing.
He was pale, and sat very still, thus giving the impression
of being too tired to notice what was going on around him.
Peke took up the conversation.
" Stow yer gab, Bill ! " he said. " When you gits straight
an' square, it'll be a round 'ole ye'll 'ave to drop into, mark
my wurrd ! An' no Dook o' Duncy 'ull pull ye out ! This
'ere old friend o' mine don't unnerstand ye wi' yer fustian
an' yer galligaskins. 'E's kinder eddicated got a bit o'
larnin' as I 'aves myself."
" Eddicated ! " echoed Bill. " Eddication's a fine thing,
aint it, if it brings an old gaffer like 'im to trampin' the road !
Seems to me the more people's eddicated the less they's
able to make a livin'."
" That's true ! that's domed true ! " said the man named
Dubble, bringing his great fist down on the table with a
force that made the tankards jump. " My darter, she's
larned to play the pianner, an' I'm domed if she kin do any-
thin' else! Just a gillflurt she is, an' as sassy as a magpie.
That's what eddication 'as made of 'er an' be domed to 't ! "
" 'Scuse me," and Bill Brush now addressed himself im-
mediately to Helmsley, " ef I may be so bold as to arsk
you wheer ye comes from, meanin' no 'arm, an' what's yer
purfession ? "
Helmsley looked up with a friendly smile.
" I've no profession now," he answered at once. " But
in my time before I got too old I did a good deal of
office work."
86 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Office work ! In a 'ouse of business, ye means ?
Readin', 'ritin', 'rithmetic, an' mebbe sweepin' the floor at
odd times an' runnin' errands ? "
" That's it ! " answered Helmsley, still smiling.
" An' they won't 'ave ye no more ? "
" I am too old," he answered quietly.
Here Bubble turned slowly round and surveyed him.
"How old be ye?"
"Seventy."
Silence ensued. The men glanced at one another. It
was plain that the " one touch of nature which makes the
whole world kin " was moving them all to kindly and com-
passionate feeling for the age and frail appearance of their
new companion. What are called " rough " and " coarse "
types of humanity are seldom without a sense of reverence
and even affection for old persons. It is only among ultra-
selfish and callous communities where over-luxurious living
has blunted all the finer emotions, that age is considered
a crime, or what by some individuals is declared worse than
a crime, a " bore."
At that moment a short girl, with a very red face and
round beady eyes, came into the room carrying on a tray
two quaint old pewter tureens full of steaming soup, which
emitted very savoury and appetising odours. Setting these
down before Matt Peke and Helmsley, with two goodly
slices of bread beside them, she held out her podgy hand.
" Threepence each, please ! "
They paid her, Peke adding a halfpenny to his three-
pence for the girl herself, and Helmsley, who judged it
safest to imitate Peke's behaviour, doing the same. She
giggled.
" 'Ope you aint deprivin' yourselves ! " she said pertly.
" No, my dear, we aint ! " retorted Peke. " We can afford
to treat ye like the gentlemen doos ! Buy yerself a ribbin
to tie up yer bonnie brown 'air ! "
She giggled again, and waited to see them begin their
meal, then, with a comprehensive roll of her round eyes
upon all the company assembled, she retired. The soup she
had brought was certainly excellent, strong, invigorating,
and tasty enough to have done credit to a rich man's table,
and Peke nodded over it with mingled surprise and ap-
preciation.
" Miss Tranter knows what's good, she do ! " he remarked
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 87
to Helmsley in a low tone. " She's cooked this up speshul !
This 'ere broth aint flavoured for me, it's for you! Glory
be good to me if she aint taken a fancy ter yer ! shouldn't
wonder if ye 'ad the best in the 'ouse ! "
Helmsley shook his head demurringly, but said nothing.
He knew that in the particular position in which he had
placed himself, silence was safer than speech.
Meanwhile, the short beady-eyed handmaiden returned
to her mistress in the kitchen, and found that lady gazing
abstractedly into the fire.
" They've got their soup," she announced, " an' they're
eatin' of it up ! "
" Is the old man taking it ? " asked Miss Tranter.
" Yes'm. An' 'e seems to want it 'orful bad, 'orful bad
'e do, on'y 'e swallers it slower an' more soft like than Matt
Peke swallers."
Miss Tranter ceased to stare at the fire, and stared at her
domestic instead.
" Prue," she said solemnly, " that old man is a gentle-
man ! "
Prue's round eyes opened a little more roundly.
" Lor', Mis' Tranter ! "
" He's a gentleman," repeated the hostess of the " Trusty
Man " with emphasis and decision ; " and he's fallen on
bad times. He may have to beg his bread along the road
or earn a shilling here and there as best he can, but noth-
ing " and here Miss Tranter shook her forefinger de-
fiantly in the air " nothing will alter the fact that he's a
gentleman ! "
Prue squeezed her fat red hands together, breathed hard,
and not knowing exactly what else to do, grinned. Her
mistress looked at her severely.
" You grin like a Cheshire cat," she remarked. " I wish
you wouldn't."
Prue at once pursed in her wide mouth to a more serious
double line.
" How much did they give you ? " pursued Miss Tranter.
" 'Apenny each," answered Prue.
" How much have you made for yourself to-day all
round ! "
" Sevenpence three fardin's," confessed Prue, with an ap-
pealing look.
" You know I don't allow you to take tips from my
88 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
customers," went on Miss Tranter. " You must put those
three farthings in my poor-box."
" Yes'm ! " sighed Prue meekly.
" And then you may keep the sevenpence."
" Oh thank y' 'm ! Thank y', Mis' Tranter ! " And Prue
hugged herself ecstatically.- " You'se 'orful good to me,
you is, Mis' Tranter ! "
Miss Tranter stood a moment, an upright inflexible figure,
surveying her.
" Do you say your prayers every night and morning as
I told you to do ? "
Prue became abnormally solemn.
" Yes, I allus do, Mis' Tranter, wish I may die right 'ere
if I don't ! "
" What did I teach you to say to God for the poor trav-
ellers who stop at the ' Trusty Man ' ? "
" ' That it may please Thee to succour, help and comfort
all that are in danger, necessity and tribulation, we beseech
Thee to hear us Good Lord ! ' " gabbled Prue, shutting her
eyes and opening them again with great rapidity.
" That's right ! " And Miss Tranter bent her head gra-
ciously. " I'm glad you remember it so well ! Be sure you
say it to-night. And now you may go, Prue."
Prue went accordingly, and Miss Tranter, resuming her
knitting, returned to the bar, and took up her watchful
position opposite the clock, there to remain patiently till
closing time.
CHAPTER VII
THE minutes wore on, and though some of the company
at the " Trusty Man " went away in due course, others came
in to replace them, so that even when it was nearing ten
o'clock the common room was still fairly full. Matt Peke
was evidently hail-fellow-well-met: with many of the loafers
of the district, and his desultory talk, with its quaint lean-
ing towards a kind of rustic philosophy intermingled with
an assumption of profound scientific wisdom, appeared to
exercise considerable fascination over those who had the
patience and inclination to listen to it. Helmsley accepted
a pipe of tobacco offered to him by the surly-looking Bubble
and smoked peacefully, leaning back in his chair and half
closing his eyes with a drowsy air, though in truth his senses
had never been more alert, or his interest more keenly
awakened. He gathered from the general conversation that
Bill Bush was an accustomed night lodger at the " Trusty
Man," that Bubble had a cottage not far distant, with a
scolding wife and an uppish daughter, and that it was be-
cause she knew of his home discomforts that Miss Tranter
allowed him to pass many of his evenings at her inn, smok-
ing and sipping a mild ale, which without fuddling his
brains, assisted him in part to forget for a time his domestic
worries. And he also found out that the sturdy farmer
sedately sucking his pipe in a corner, and now and then
throwing in an unexpected and random comment on what-
ever happened to be the topic of conversation, was known as
" Feathery " Joltram, though why " Feathery " did not seem
very clear, unless the term was, as it appeared to be, an
adaptation of " father " or " feyther " Joltram. Matt Peke
explained that old " Feathery " was a highly respected char-
acter in the " Quantocks," and not only rented a large farm,
but thoroughly understood the farming business. More-
over, that he had succeeded in making himself somewhat
of a terror to certain timorous time-servers, on account of
his heterodox and obstinate principles. For example, he
had sent his children to school because Government com-
pelled him to do so, but when their schooldays were over,
80
SO THE TREASUEE OF HEAVEN
lie had informed them that the sooner they forgot all they
had ever learned during that period and took to " clean
an' 'olesome livin'," the better he should be pleased.
" For it's all rort an' rubbish," he declared, in his broad,
soft dialect. " I dozn't keer a tinker's baad 'apenny whether
tha knaw 'ow to 'rite tha mizchief or to read it, or whether
king o' England is eatin' 'umble pie to the U-nited States
top man, or noa, I keerz nawt aboot it, noben way or
t'other. My boys 'as got to laarn draawin' crops out o'
fields, an' my gels must put 'and to milkin' and skimmin'
cream an' makin' foinest butter as iver went to market.
An' time comin' to wed, the boys 'ull take strong dairy
wives, an' the gels 'ull pick men as can thraw through
men's wurrk, or they'ze nay gels nor boys o' mine. Tarlk
o' Great Britain! Heart alive! Wheer would th' owd
country be if 'twere left to pulin' booky clerks what thinks
they're gemmen, an' what weds niminy-piminy shop gels,
an' breeds nowt but ricketty babes fit for workus' burial!
Noa, by the Lord! No school larnin' for me nor mine,
thank-ee ! Why, the marster of the Board School 'ere doant
know more practical business o' life than a suckin' calf!
With a bit o' garden ground to 'is cot, e' doant reckon 'ow
to till it, an' that's the rakelness o' book larnin'. Noa, noa !
Th' owd way o' wurrk's the best way, brain, 'ands, feet
an' good ztrong body all zet on't, an' no meanderin' aff it !
Take my wurrd the Lord A'mighty doant 'elp corn to grow
if there's a whinin' zany ahint the plough ! "
With these distinctly " out-of-date " notions, " Feathery "
Joltram had also set himself doggedly against church-going
and church people generally. Few dared mention a clergy-
man in his presence, for his open and successful warfare
with the minister of his own parish had been going on
for years and had become well-nigh traditional. Looking
at him, however, as he sat in his favourite corner of the
" Trusty Man's " common room, no one would have given
him credit for any particular individuality. His round red
face expressed nothing, his dull fish-like eyes betrayed no
intelligence, he appeared to be nothing more than a par-
ticularly large, heavy man, wedged in his chair rather than
seated in it, and absorbed in smoking a long pipe after the
fashion of an infant sucking a feeding-bottle, with infinite
relish that almost suggested gluttony.
The hum of voices grew louder as the hour grew later^"
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 91
and one or two rather noisy disputations brought Miss
Tranter to the door. A look of hers was sufficient to silence
all contention, and having bent the warning flash of her
eyes impressively upon her customers, she retired as
promptly and silently as she had appeared. Helmsley was
just thinking that he would slip away and get to bed, when
a firm tread sounded in the outer passage, and a tall man,
black-haired, black-eyed, and of herculean build, suddenly
looked in upon the tavern company with a familiar nod and
smile.
" Hullo, my hearties ! " he exclaimed. " Is all tankards
drained, or is a drop to spare ? "
A shout of welcome greeted him : " Tom ! " " Tom o'
the Gleam ! " " Come in, Tom ! " " Drinks all round ! "
and there followed a general hustle and scraping of chairs
on the floor, every one seemed eager to make room for the
newcomer. Helmsley, startled in a manner by his appear-
ance, looked at him with involuntary and undisguisel ad-
miration. Such a picturesque figure of a man he had sel-
dom or never seen, yet the fellow was clad in the roughest,
raggedest homespun, the only striking and curious note
of colour about him being a knitted crimson waistcoat, which
instead of being buttoned was tied together with two or
three tags of green ribbon. He stood for a moment watch-
ing the men pushing up against one another in order to give
him a seat at the table, and a smile, half-amused, half-
ironical, lighted up his sun-browned, handsome face.
" Don't put yourselves out, mates ! " he said carelessly.
" Mind Feathery's toes ! if you tread on his corns there'll
be the devil to pay ! Hullo, Matt Peke ! How are you ? "
Matt rose and shook hands.
" All the better for seein' ye again, Tom," he answered.
" Wheer d'ye hail from this very present minit? "
" From the caves of Cornwall ! " laughed the man. " From
picking up drift on the shore and tracking seals to their
lair in the hollows of the rocks ! " He laughed again, and
his great eyes flashed wildly. " All sport, Matt ! I live
like a gentleman born, keeping or killing at my pleasure!"
Here " Feathery " Joltram looked up and dumbly pointed
with the stem of his pipe to a chair left vacant near the
middle of the table. Tom o' the Gleam, by which name he
seemed to be known to every one present, sat down, and
in response to the calls of the company, a wiry pot-boy
92 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
in shirt-sleeves made his appearance with several fresh
tankards of ale, it now being past the hour for the attendance
of that coy handmaiden of the " Trusty Man," Miss Prue.
"Any fresh tales to tell, Tom?" inquired Matt Peke
then " Any more harum-scarum pranks o' yours on the
road?"
Tom drank off a mug of ale before replying, and took
a comprehensive glance around the room.
" You have a stranger here," he said suddenly, in his
deep, thrilling voice, " One who is not of our breed, one
who is unfamiliar with our ways. Friend or foe ? "
" Friend ! " declared Peke emphatically, while Bill Bush
and one or two of the men exchanged significant looks and
nudged each other. " Now, Tom, none of yer gypsy tan-
trums ! I knows all yer Romany gibberish, an' I ain't takin'
any. Ye've got a good 'art enough, so don't work yer
dander up with this 'ere old chap what's a-trampin' it to
try and find out all that's left o's fam'ly an' friends 'fore
turnin' up 'is toes to the daisies. 'Is name is David, an' 'e's
teen kickt out o' office work through bein' too old. That's
'is ticket ! "
Tom o' the Gleam listened to this explanation in silence,
playing absently with the green tags of ribbon at his waist-
coat. Then slowly lifting his eyes he fixed them full
on Helmsley, who, despite himself, felt an instant's confu-
sion at the searching intensity of the man's bold bright
gaze.
" Old and poor ! " he ejaculated. " That's a bad lookout
in this world ! Aren't you tired of living ! "
" Nearly," answered Helmsley quietly " but not quite."
Their looks met, and Tom's dark features relaxed into a
smile.
" You're fairly patient ! " he said, " for it's hard enough
to be poor, but it's harder still to be old. If I thought I
should live to be as old as you are, I'd drown myself in
the sea ! There's no use in life without body's strength and
heart's love."
" Ah, tha be graat on the love business, Tom ! " chuckled
"" Feathery " Joltram, lifting his massive body with a shake
out of the depths of his comfortable chair. " Zeems to me
tha's zummat like the burd what cozies a new mate ivery
zummer ! "
Tom o' the Gleam laughed, his strong even white teeth
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 93
shining like a row of pearls between his black moustaches
and short-cropped beard.
" You're a steady-going man, Feathery," he said, " and
I'm a wastrel. But I'm ne'er as fickle as you think. I've
but one love in the world that's left me my kiddie."
" Ay, an' 'ow's the kiddie? " asked Matt Peke " Thrivin'
as iver?"
" Fine ! As strong a little chap as you'll see between
Ouantocks and Land's End. He'll be four Eome Mar-
tinmas."
" Zo agem' quick as that ! " commented Joltram with a
broad grin. " For zure 'e be a man grow'd ! Tha'll be
puttin' the breechez on 'im an' zendin' 'im to the school "
" Never ! " interrupted Tom defiantly. " They'll never
catch my kiddie if I know it! I want him for myself,
others shall have no part in him. He shall grow up wild
like a flower of the fields wild as his mother was wild as
the wild roses growing over her grave "
He broke off suddenly with an impatient gesture.
" Psha ! Why do you drag me over the old rough ground
talking of Kiddie ! " he exclaimed, almost angrily. " The
child's all right. He's safe in camp with the women."
" Anywheres nigh ? " asked Bill Bush.
Tom o' the Gleam made no answer, but the fierce look in
his eyes showed that he was not disposed to be communica-
tive on this point. Just then the sound of voices raised in
some dispute on the threshold of the " Trusty Man," caused
all the customers in the common room to pause in their
talking and drinking, and to glance expressively at one
another. Miss Tranter's emphatic accents rang out sharply
on the silence.
" It wants ten minutes to ten, and I never close till half-
past ten," she said decisively. " The law does not compel
me to do so till eleven, and I resent private interference."
" I am aware that you resent any advice offered for your
good," was the reply, delivered in harsh masculine tones.
" You are a singularly obstinate woman. But I have my
duty to perform, and as minister of this parish I shall
perform it."
" Mind your own business first ! " said Miss Tranter, with
evident vehemence.
" My business is my duty, and my duty is my business,"
and here the male voice grew more rasping and raucous.
94, THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" I have as much right to use this tavern as any one of
the misled men who spend their hard earnings here and neg-
lect their homes and families for the sake of drink. And
as you do not close till half-past ten, it is not too late for
me to enter."
During this little altercation, the party round the table
in the common room sat listening intently. Then Bubble,
rousing himself from a pleasant ale-warm lethargy, broke
the spell.
" Domed if it aint old Arbroath ! " he said.
" Ay, ay, 'tis old Arbroath zartin zure ! " responded
" Feathery " Joltram placidly. " Let 'un coom in ! Let 'un
coom in ! "
Tom o' the Gleam gave vent to a loud laugh, and throw-
ing himself back in his chair, crossed his long legs and
administered a ferocious twirl to his moustache, humming
carelessly under his breath:
" ' And they called the parson to marry them,
But devil a bit would he
For they were but a pair of dandy prats
As couldn't pay devil's fee ! ' '
Helmsley's curiosity was excited. There was a marked
stir of expectation among the guests of the " Trusty Man " ;
they all appeared to be waiting for something about to
happen of exceptional interest. He glanced inquiringly at
Peke, who returned the glance by one of warning.
" Best sit quiet a while longer," he said. " They won't
break up till closin' hour, an' m'appen there'll be a bit
o' fun."
" Ay, sit quiet ! " said Tom o' the Gleam, catching these
words, and turning towards Helmsley with a smile
" There's more than enough time for tramping. Come !
Show me if you can smoke that!" "That" was a choice
Havana cigar which he took out of the pocket of his crimson
wool waistcoat. " You've smoked one before now, I'll
warrant ! "
Helmsley met his flashing eyes without wavering.
" I will not say I have not," he answered quietly, ac-
cepting and lighting the fragrant weed, " but it was long
ago!"
" Ay, away in the Long, long ago ! " said Tom, still re-
garding him fixedly, but kindly " where we have all buried
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 95
such a number of beautiful things, loves and hopes and
beliefs, and dreams and fortunes! all, all tucked away
under the graveyard grass of the Long Ago ! "
Here Miss Tranter's voice was heard again outside, say-
ing acidly :
" It's clear out and lock up at half-past ten, business or
no business, duty or no duty. Please remember that ! "
" 'Ware, mates ! " exclaimed Tom, " Here comes our
reverend ! "
The door was pushed open as he spoke, and a short,
dark man in clerical costume walked in with a would-be
imposing air of dignity.
" Good-evening, my friends ! " he said, without lifting
his hat.
There was no response.
He smiled sourly, and surveyed the assembled company
with a curious air of mingled authority and contempt. He
looked more like a petty officer of dragoons than a min-
ister of the Christian religion, one of those exacting small
military martinets accustomed to brow-beating and bullying
every subordinate without reason or justice.
" So you're there, are you, Bush ! " he continued, with a
frowning glance levied in the direction of the always sus-
pected but never proved poacher, " I wonder you're not
in jail by this time! "
Bill Bush took up his pewter tankard, and affected to
drain it to the last dregs, but made no reply.
" Is that Mr. Dubble ! " pursued the clergyman, shad-
ing his eyes with one hand from the flickering light of the
lamp, and feigning to be doubtful of the actual personality
of the individual he questioned. " Surely not ! I should
be very much surprised and very sorry to see Mr. Dubble
here at such a late hour ! "
" Would ye now ! " said Dubble. " Wai, I'm allus glad
to give ye both a sorrer an' a surprise together, Mr. Ar-
broath darned if I aint ! "
" You must be keeping your good wife and daughter up
waiting for you," proceeded Arbroath, his iron-grey eye-
brows drawing together in an ugly line over the bridge of
his nose. " Late hours are a mistake, Dubble ! "
" So they be, so they be, Mr. Arbroath ! " agreed Dubble.
" Ef I was oop till midnight naggin' away at my good wife
an' darter as they nags away at me, I'd say my keepin' o'
96 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
late 'ours was a domed whoppin' mistake an' no doubt
o't. But seein' as 'taint arf-past ten yet, an' I aint naggin'
nobody nor interferin' with my neighbours nohow, I reckon
I'm on the right side o' the night so fur."
A murmur of approving laughter from all the men about
him ratified this speech. The Reverend Mr. Arbroath
gave a gesture of disdain, and bent his lowering looks on
Tom o' the Gleam.
" Aren't you wanted by the police ? " he suggested sar-
castically.
The handsome gypsy glanced him over indifferently.
" I shouldn't wonder ! " he retorted. " Perhaps the police
want me as much as the devil wants you ! "
Arbroath flushed a dark red, and his lips tightened over
his teeth vindictively.
" There's a zummat for tha thinkin' on, Pazon Arbroath ! "
said " Feathery " Joltram, suddenly rising from his chair
and showing himself in all his great height and burly build.
" Zummat for a zermon on owd Nick, when tha're wantin'
to scare the zhoolboys o' Zundays ! "
Mr. Arbroath's countenance changed from red to pale.
" I was not aware of your presence, Mr. Joltram," he
said stiffly.
" Noa, noa, Pazon, m'appen not, but tha's aweer on it
now. Nowt o' me's zo zmall as can thraw to heaven through
tha straight and narrer way. I'd 'ave to squeeze for 't ! "
He laughed, a big, slow laugh, husky with good living
and good humour. Arbroath shrugged his shoulders.
" I prefer not to speak to you at all, Mr. Joltram," he
said. " When people are bound to disagree, as we have
disagreed for years, it is best to avoid conversation."
" Zed like the Church all over, Pazon ! " chuckled the
imperturable Joltram. " Zeems as if I 'erd the ' Glory be ' !
But if tha don't want any talk, why does tha coom in
'ere wheer we'se all a-drinkin' steady and talkin' 'arty, an'
no quarrellin' nor backbitin' of our neighbours ? Tha wants
us to go 'ome, why doezn't tha go 'ome thysen? Tha's
a wife a zettin' oop there, an' m'appen she's waitin' with as
fine a zermon as iver was preached from a temperance cart
in a wasterne field ! "
He laughed again; Arbroath turned his back upon him
in disgust, and strode up to the shadowed corner where
Helmsley sat watching the little scene.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 97
" Now, my man, who are you?" demanded the clergyman
imperiously. " Where do you come from ? "
Matt Peke would have spoken, but Helmsley silenced
him by a look and rose to his feet, standing humbly with
bent head before his arrogant interlocutor. There were
the elements of comedy in the situation, and he was in-
clined to play his part thoroughly.
" From Bristol," he replied.
" What are you doing here ? "
" Getting rest, food, and a night's lodging."
" Why do you leave out drink in the list ? " sneered
Arbroath. " For, of course, it's your special craving !
Where are you going ? "
' To Cornwall."
'Tramping it? "
' Yes."
' Begging, I suppose? "
' Sometimes."
' Disgraceful ! " And the reverend gentleman snorted
offence like a walrus rising from deep waters. " Why don't
you work? "
" I'm too old."
" Too old ! Too lazy you mean ! How old are you ? "
" Seventy."
Mr. Arbroath paused, slightly disconcerted. He had
entered the " Trusty Man " in the hope of discovering some
or even all of its customers in a state of drunkenness. To
his disappointment he had found them perfectly sober. He
had pounced on the stray man whom he saw was a stranger,
in the expectation of proving him, at least, to be intoxi-
cated. Here again he was mistaken. Helmsley's simple
straight answers left him no opening for attack.
" You'd better make for the nearest workhouse," he said,
at last. " Tramps are not encouraged on these roads."
" Evidently not ! " And Helmsley raised his calm eyes
and fixed them on the clergyman's lowering countenance
with a faintly satiric smile.
" You're not too old to be impudent, I see ! " retorted
Arbroath, with an unpleasant contortion of his features.
" I warn you not to come cadging about anywhere in this
neighbourhood, for if you do I shall give you in charge. I
have four parishes under my control, and I make it a rule
to hand all beggars over to the police."
98 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" That's not very good Christianity, is it ? " asked Helms-
ley quietly.
Matt Peke chuckled. The Reverend Mr. Arbroath started
indignantly, and stared so hard that his rat-brown eyes
visibly projected from his head.
" Not very good Christianity ! " he echoed. " What
what do you mean? How dare you speak to me about
Christianity ! "
" Ay, 'tis a bit aff ! " drawled " Feathery " Joltram, thrust-
ing his great hands deep into his capacious trouser-pockets.
" 'Tis a bit aff to taalk to Christian parzon 'bout Christianity,
zeein' 'tis the one thing i' this warld 'e knaws nawt on ! "
Arbroath grew livid, but his inward rage held him
speechless.
" That's true ! " [cried Tom o' the Gleam excitedly
" That's as true as there's a God in heaven ! I've read all
about the Man that was born a carpenter in Galilee, and
so far as I can understand it, He never had a rough word
for the worst creatures that crawled, and the worse they
were, and the more despised and down-trodden, the gentler
He was with them. That's not the way of the men that
call themselves His ministers ! "
" I 'eerd once," said Mr. Dubble, rising slowly and laying
down his pipe, " of a little chap what was makin' a posy
for 'is mother's birthday, an' passin' the garden o' the
rector o' the parish, 'e spied a bunch o' pink chestnut bloom
'angin' careless over the 'edge, ready to blow to bits wi'
the next puff o' wind. The little raskill pulled it down an'
put it wi' the rest o' the flowers 'e'd got for 'is mother, but
the good an' lovin' rector seed 'im at it, an' 'ad 'im nabbed
as a common thief an' sent to prison. 'E wornt but a ten-
year-old lad, an' that prison spoilt 'im for life. 'E wor a
fust-class Lord's man as did that for a babby boy, an'
the hull neighbourhood's powerful obleeged to 'im. So don't
ye," and here he turned his stolid gaze on Helmsley,
" don't ye, for all that ye're old, an' poor, an' 'elpless, go
cadgin' round this 'ere reverend gemmen's property, cos
'e's got a real pityin' Christian 'art o's own, an' ye'd be
sent to bed wi' the turnkey." Here he paused with a com-
prehensive smile round at the company, then taking up
his hat, he put it on. " There's one too many 'ere for
pleasantness, an' I'm goin'. Good-den, Tom! Good-den,
all!"
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 99
And out he strode, whistling as he went. With his de-
parture every one began to move, the more quickly as
the clock in the bar had struck ten a minute or two since.
The Reverend Mr. Arbroath stood irresolute for a moment,
wishing- his chief enemy, " Feathery " Joltram, would go.
But Joltram remained where he was, standing erect, and
surveying the scene like a heavily caparisoned charger scent-
ing battle.
" Tha's heerd Mizter Bubble's tale afore now, Pazon,
hazn't tha ? " he inquired. " M'appen tha knaw'd the little
chap as Christ's man zent to prizon thysen ? "
Arbroath lifted his head haughtily.
" A theft is a theft," he said, " whether it is committed
by a young person or an old one, and whether it is for a
penny or a hundred pounds makes no difference. Thieves
of all classes and all ages should be punished as such. Those
are my opinions."
" They were nowt o' the Lord's opinions," said Joltram,
" for He told the thief as 'ung beside Him, ' This day shalt
thou be with Me in Paradise," but He didn't say nowt o'
the man as got the thief punished ! "
" You twist the Bible to suit your own ends, Mr. Joltram,"
retorted Arbroath contemptuously. " It is the common habit
of atheists and blasphemers generally."
" Then, by the Lord ! " exclaimed the irrepressible
" Feathery," " All th' atheists an' blasphemers must be
a-gathered in the fold o' the Church, for if the pazons
doan't twist the Bible to suit their own ends, I'm blest if
I knaw whaat else they does for a decent livin' ! "
Just then a puff of fine odour from the Havana cigar
which Helmsley was enjoying floated under the nostrils
of Mr. Arbroath, and added a fresh touch of irritation to
his temper. He turned at once upon the offending smoker.
"So! You pretend to be poor!" he snarled, "And yet
you can smoke a cigar that must have cost a shilling ! "
" It was given to me," replied Helmsley gently.
" Given to you ! Bah ! Who would give an old tramp
a cigar like that? "
" I would ! " And Tom o' the Gleam sprang lightly up
from his chair, his black eyes sparkling with mingled defi-
ance and laughter " And I did ! Here ! will you take
another?" And her drew out and opened a handsome
case full of the cigars in question.
100 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Thank you ! " and Arbroath's pallid lips trembled with
rage. " I decline to share in stolen plunder ! "
" Ha ha ha ! Ha ha ! " laughed Tom hilariously.
" Stolen plunder ! That's good ! D'ye think I'd steal when
I can buy! Reverend sir, Tom o' the Gleam is particular
as to what he smokes, and he hasn't travelled all over the
world for nothing:
' Qu'en dictes-vous ? Faut-il a ce musier,
II n'est tresor que de vivre d son aise!'"
Helmsley listened in wonderment. Here was a vagrant
of the highroads and woods, quoting the refrain of Villon's
Contreditz de Franc -Gontier, and pronouncing the French
language with as soft and pure an accent as ever came out
of Provence. Meanwhile, Mr. Arbroath, paying no at-
tention whatever to Tom's outburst, looked at his watch.
" It is now a quarter-past ten," he announced dictatorially ;
" I should advise you all to be going."
" By the law we needn't go till eleven, though Miss Tran-
ter docs halve it," said Bill Bush sulkily " and perhaps
we won't ! "
Mr. Arbroath fixed him with a stern glance.
" Do you know that I am here in the cause of Temper-
ance ? " he said.
" Oh, are ye ? Then why don't ye call on Squire Evans,
as is the brewer wi' the big 'ouse yonder ? " queried Bill
defiantly. " 'E's the man to go to ! Arsk 'im to shut up 'is
brewery an' sell no more ale wi' pizon in't to the poor!
That'll do more for Temp'rance than the early closin' o'
the ' Trusty Man.' "
" Ye're right enough," said Matt Peke, who had refrained
from taking any part in the conversation, save by now and
then whispering a side comment to Helmsley. " There's
stuff put i' the beer what the brewers brew, as is enough
to knock the strongest man silly. I'm just fair tired o'
hearin' o' Temp'rance this an' Temp'rance that, while 'arf
the men as goes to Parl'ment takes their livin' out o' the
brewin' o' beer an' spiritus liquors. An' they bribes their
poor silly voters wi' their drink till they'se like a flock o'
sheep runnin' into wotever field o' politics their shepherds
drives 'em. The best way to make the temp'rance cause
pop'lar is to stop big brewin'. Let every ale'ouse 'ave its
own pertikler brew, an' m'appen we'll git some o' the old-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 101
fashioned malt an' 'ops agin. That'll be good for the small
trader, an' the big brewin' companies can take to somethin*
'onester than the pizonin' bizness."
" You are a would-be wise man, and you talk too much,
Matthew Peke ! " observed the Reverend Mr. Arbroath,
smiling darkly, and still glancing askew at his watch. " I
know you of old ! "
" Ye knows me an' I knows you," responded Peke pla-
cidly. " Yer can't interfere wi' me nohow, an' I dessay it
riles ye a bit, for ye loves interferin' with ivery sort o' folk,
as all the parsons do. I b'longs to no parish, an' aint under
you no more than Tom o' the Gleam be, an' we both thanks
the Lord for't! An' I'm earnin' a livin' my own way an'
bein' a benefit to the sick an' sorry, which aint so far from
proper Christianity. Lor', Parson Arbroath ! I wonder ye
aint more 'uman like, seein' as yer fav'rite gel in the village
was arskin' me t'other day if I 'adn't any yerb for to make
a love-charm. ' Love-charm ! ' sez I ' what does ye want
that for, my gel ? ' An' she up an' she sez ' I'd like to make
Parson Arbroath eat it ! ' Hor er hor er hor er !
' I'd like to make Parson Arbroath eat it ! ' sez she. An'
she's a foine strappin' wench, too ! 'Ullo, Parson ! Coin' ? "
The door slammed furiously, Arbroath had suddenly
lost his dignity and temper together. Peke's raillery proved
too much for him, and amid the loud guffaws of " Feathery "
Joltram, Bill Bush and the rest, he beat a hasty retreat, and
they heard his heavy footsteps go hurriedly across the pas-
sage of the " Trusty Man," and pass out into the road be-
yond. Roars of laughter accompanied his departure, and
Peke looked round with a smile of triumph.
"It's just like a witch-spell!" he declared. "There's
nowt to do but whisper, ' Parson's fav'rite ! ' an' Parson
hisself melts away like a mist o' the mornin' or a weasel
runnin' into its 'ole ! Hor er, hor er, hor er ! '
And again the laughter pealed out long and loud,
" Feathery " Joltram bending himself double with merri-
ment, and slapping the sides of his huge legs in ecstasy.
Miss Tranter hearing the continuous uproar, looked in
warningly, but there was a glimmering smile on her face.
" We'se goin', Miss Tranter ! " announced Bill Bush, his
wizened face all one broad grin. " We aint the sort to
keep you up, never fear! Your worst customer's just
cleared out ! "
X
102 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" So I see ! " replied Miss Tranter calmly, then, nodding
towards Helmsley, she said " Your room's ready."
Helmsley took the hint. He rose from his chair, and
held out his hand to Peke.
" Good-night ! " he said. " You've been very kind to me,
and I shan't forget it ! "
The herb-gatherer looked for a moment at the thin, re-
fined white hand extended to him before grasping it in his
own horny palm. Then
" Good-night, old chap ! " he responded heartily. " Ef I
don't see ye i' the mornin' I'll leave ye a bottle o' yerb wine
to take along wi' ye trampin', for the more ye drinks o't
the soberer ye'll be an' the better ye'll like it. But ye should
give up the idee o' footin' it to Cornwall ; ye'll never git
there without a liftin'."
" I'll have a good try, anyway," rejoined Helmsley.
"Good-night!"
He turned towards Tom o' the Gleam.
" Good-night ! "
" Good-night ! " And Tom's dark eyes glowed upon him
with a sombre intentness. " You know the old proverb
which says, ' It's a long lane which has never a turning ' ? "
Helmsley nodded with a faint smile.
" Your turning's near at hand," said Tom. " Take my
word for it ! "
"Will it be a pleasant turning?" asked Helmsley, still
smiling.
"Pleasant? Ay, and peaceful!" And Tom's mellow
voice sank into a softer tone. " Peaceful as the strong love
of a pure woman, and as sweet with contentment as is the
summer when the harvest is full ! Good-night ! "
Helmsley looked at him thoughtfully ; there was some-
thing poetic and fascinating about the man.
" I should like to meet you again," he said impulsively.
" Would you ? " Tom o' the Gleam smiled. " So you
will, as sure as God's in heaven ! But how or when, who
can tell ! " His handsome face clouded suddenly, some
dark shadow of pain or perplexity contracted his brows,
then he seemed to throw the feeling, whatever it was, aside,
and his features cleared. " You are bound to meet me,"
he continued. " I am as much a part of this country as
the woods and hills, the Quantocks and Brendons know me
as well as Exmoor and the Valley of Rocks. But you are safe
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 103
from me and mine ! Not one of our tribe will harm you,
you can pursue your way in peace and if any one of us
can give you help at any time, we will."
" You speak of a community ? "
" I speak of a Republic ! " answered Tom proudly. " There
are thousands of men and women in these islands whom
no king governs and no law controls, free as the air and
independent as the birds! They ask nothing at any man's
hands they take and they keep ! "
" Like the millionaires ! " suggested Bill Bush, with a
grin.
" Right you are, Bill ! like the millionaires ! None
take more than they do, and none keep their takings closer ! "
" And very miserable they must surely be sometimes, on
both their takings and their keepings," said Helmsley.
" No doubt of it! There'd be no justice in the mind of
God if millionaires weren't miserable," declared Tom o'
the Gleam. " They've more money than they ought to
have, it's only fair they should have less happiness. Com-
pensation's a natural law that there's no getting away from,
that's why a gypsy' 5 merrier than a king ! "
Helmsley smiled assent, and with another friendly good-
night all round, left the room. Miss Tranter awaited him,
candle in hand, and preceding him up a short flight of
ancient and crooked oaken stairs, showed him a small attic
room with one narrow bed in it, scrupulously neat and clean.
" You'll be all right here," she said. " There's no lock
to your door, but you're out of the truck of house work,
and no one will come nigh you."
" Thank you, madam," and Helmsley bent his head gen-
tly, almost humbly, " You are very good to me. I am
most grateful ! "
" Nonsense ! " said Miss Tranter, affecting snappishness.
" You pay for a bed, and here it is. The lodgers here
generally share one room between them, but you are an
old man and need rest. It's better you should get your
sleep without any chance of disturbance. Good-night ! "
" Good-night ! "
She set down the candle by his bedside with a " Mind
you put it out ! " final warning, and descended the stairs to
see the rest of her customers cleared off the premises, with
the exception of Bill Bush, Matt Peke, and Tom o' the
Gleam, who were her frequent night lodgers. She found
104 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Tom o' the Gleam standing up and delivering a kind of ex-
temporary oration, while his rough cap, under the pilotage
of Bill Bush, was being passed round the table in the
fashion of a collecting plate.
" The smallest contribution thankfully received ! " he
laughed, as he looked and saw her. " Miss Tranter, we're
doing a mission ! We're Salvationists ! Now's your chance !
Give us a sixpence ! "
" What for ? " And setting her arms akimbo, the hostess
of the " Trusty Man " surveyed all her lingering guests
with a severe face. " What games are you up to now ? It's
time to clear ! "
" So it is, and all the good little boys are going to bed,"
said Tom. " Don't be cross, Mammy ! We want to close
our subscription list that's all ! We've raised a few pennies
for the old grandfather upstairs. He'll never get to Corn-
wall, poor chap! He's as white as paper. Office work
doesn't fit a man of his age for tramping the road. We've
collected two shillings for him among us, you give six-
pence, and there's half-a-crown all told. God bless the
total!"
He seized his cap as it was handed back to him, and
shook it, to show that it was lined with jingling half-pence,
and his eyes sparkled like those of a child enjoying a bit
of mischief.
" Come, Miss Tranter ! Help the Gospel mission ! "
Her features relaxed into a smile, and feeling in her apron
pocket, she produced the requested coin.
" There you are ! " she said. " And now you've got it,
how are you going to give him the money ? "
" Never you mind ! " and Tom swept all the coins to-
gether, and screwed them up in a piece of newspaper.
" We'll surprise the old man as the angels surprise the
children ! "
Miss Tranter said nothing more, but withdrawing to the
passage, stood and watched her customers go out of the
door of the " Trusty Man," one by one. Each great hulk-
ing fellow doffed his cap to her and bade her a respectful
" Good-night " as he passed, " Feathery " Joltram pausing
a moment to utter an " aside " in her ear.
" 'A fixed oop owd Arbroath for zartin zure ! " and here,
with a sly wink, he gave a forcible nudge to her arm, "An
owd larrupin' fox 'e be ! an' Matt Peke giv' 'im the finish
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 105
wi's fav'rite ! Ha ha ha ! 'A can't abide a wurrd o' that
long-legged wench ! Ha ha ha ! An' look y'ere, Miss
Tranter! I'd 'a given a shillin' in Tom's 'at when it went
round, but I'm thinkin' as zummat in the face o' the owd
gaffer up in bed ain't zet on beggin', an' m'appen a charity'd
'urt 'is feelin's like the poor-'ouse do. But if 'e's wantin' to
'arn a mossel o' victual, I'll find 'im a lightsome job on the
farm if he'll reckon to walk oop to me afore noon to-mor-
rer. Tell 'im that from farmer Joltram, an' good-night
t'ye!"
He strode out, and before eleven had struck, the old-
fashioned iron bar clamped down across the portal, and the
inn was closed. Then Miss Tranter turned into the bar,
and before shutting it up paused, and surveyed her three
lodgers critically.
" So you pretend to be all miserably poor, and yet you
actually collect what you call a ' fund ' for the old tramp
upstairs who's a perfect stranger to you ! " she said " Ras-
cals that you are! "
Bill Bush looked sheepish.
" Only halfpence, Miss," he explained. " Poor we be as
church mice, an' ye knows that, doesn't ye? But we aint
gone broken yet, an' Tom 'e started the idee o' doin' a good
turn for th' old gaffer, for say what ye like 'e do look a bit
feeble for trampin' it."
Miss Tranter sniffed the atmosphere of the bar with a
very good assumption of lofty indifference.
"You started the idea, did you?" she went on, looking
at Tom o' the Gleam. " You're a nice sort of ruffian to
start any idea at all, aren't you ? I thought you always took,
and never gave ! "
He smiled, leaning his handsome head back against the
white-washed wall of the little entry where he stood, but
said nothing. Matt Peke then took up the parable.
" Th' old man be mortal weak an' faint for sure," he said.
" I come upon 'im lyin' under a tree wi' a mossel book aside
'im, an' I takes an' looks at the book, an' 'twas all portry an'
simpleton stuff like, an' 'e looked old enough to be my dad,
an' tired enough to be fast goin' where my dad's gone, so
I just took 'im along wi' me, an' giv' 'im my name an' pur-
fession, an' 'e did the same, a-tellin' me as 'ow 'is name was
D. David, an' 'ow 'e 'd lost 'is office work through bein' too
old an' shaky. 'E's all right, an office man aint much good
106 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
on the road, weak on 'is pins an' failin' in 'is sight M'ap-
pen the 'arf-crown we've got 'im 'ull 'elp 'im to a ride part
o' the way 'e's goin'."
" Well, don't you men bother about him any more," said
Miss Tranter decisively. " You get off early in the morn-
ing, as usual. /'// look after him ! "
" Will ye now ? " and Peke's rugged features visibly
brightened "That's just like ye, Miss! Aint it, Tom?
Aintit, Bill?"
Both individuals appealed to agreed that it was " Miss
Tranter all over."
" Now off to bed with you ! " proceeded that lady per-
emptorily. "And leave your collected ' fund ' with me I'll
give it to him."
But Tom o' the Gleam would not hear of this.
" No, Miss Tranter ! with every respect for you, no ! "
he said gaily. " It's not every night we can play angels !
I play angel to my kiddie sometimes, putting a fairing in
his little hammock where he sleeps like a bird among the
trees all night, but I've never had the chance to do it to
an old grandad before ! Let me have my way ! "
And so it chanced that at about half-past eleven, Helms-
ley, having lain down with a deep sense of relief and repose
on his clean comfortable little bed, was startled out of his
first doze by hearing stealthy steps approaching his door.
His heart began to beat quickly, a certain vague misgiving
troubled him, after all, he thought, had he not been very
rash to trust himself to the shelter of this strange and lonely
inn among the wild moors and hills, among unknown men,
who, at any rate by their rough and uncouth appearance,
might be members of a gang of thieves? The steps came
nearer, and a hand fumbled gently with the door handle. In
that tense moment of strained listening he was glad to re-
member that when undressing, he had carefully placed his
vest, lined with the bank-notes he carried, under the sheet
on which he lay, so that in the event of any one coming to
search his clothes, nothing would be found but a few loose
coins in his coat pocket. The fumbling at his door con-
tinued, and presently it slowly opened, letting in a pale
stream of moonlight from a lattice window outside. He
just saw the massive figure of Tom o' the Gleam standing
on the threshold, clad in shirt and trousers only, and behind
him there seemed to be the shadowy outline of Matt Peke's
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 107
broad shoulders and Bill Bush's bullet head. Uncertain
what to expect, he determined to show no sign of conscious-
ness, and half closing his eyes, he breathed heavily and reg-
ularly, feigning to be in a sound slumber. But a cold chill
ran through his veins as Tom o' the Gleam slowly and
cautiously approached the bed, holding something in his
right hand, while Matt Peke and Bill Bush tiptoed gently
after him half-way into the room.
" Poor old gaffer ! " he heard Tom whisper " Looks all
ready laid out and waiting for the winding ! "
And the hand that held the something stole gently and
ever gentlier towards the pillow. By a supreme effort
Helmsley kept quite still. How he controlled his nerves he
never knew, for to see through his almost shut eyelids the
dark herculean form of the gypsy bending over him with the
two other men behind, moved him to a horrible fear. Were
they going to murder him? If so, what for? To them
he was but an old tramp, unless unless somebody had
tracked him from London! unless somebody knew wha
he really was, and had pointed him out as likely to have
money about him. These thoughts ran like lightning
through his brain, making his blood burn and his pulses
tingle almost to the verge of a start and cry, when the
creeping hand he dreaded quietly laid something on his
pillow and withdrew itself with delicate precaution.
" He'll be pleased when he wakes," said Tom o' the Gleam,
in the mildest of whispers, retreating softly from the bed-
side " Won't he ?"
"Ay, that he will ! " responded Peke, under his breath ;
"aint 'e sleepin' sound ? "
" Sound as a babe ! "
Slowly and noiselessly they stepped backward, slowly
and noiselessly they closed the door, and the faint echo of
their stealthy footsteps creeping away along the outer pas-
sage to another part of the house, was hushed at last into
silence. After a long pause of intense stillness, some clock
below stairs struck midnight with a mellow clang, and
Helmsley opening his eyes, lay waiting till the excited beat-
ing of his heart subsided, and his quickened breath grew
calm. Blaming himself for his nervous terrors, he presently
rose from his bed, and struck a match from the box which
Miss Tranter had thoughtfully left beside him, and lit his
candle. Something had been placed on his pillow, and
108 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Curiosity moved him to examine it. He looked, but saw
nothing save a mere screw of soiled newspaper. He took
it up wonderingly. It was heavy, and opening it he found
it full of pennies, halfpennies, and one odd sixpence. A
scrap of writing accompanied this collection, roughly pen-
cilled thus : " To help you along the road. From friends
at the Trusty Man, Good luck ! "
For a moment he stood inert, fingering the humble
coins, for a moment he could hardly realise that these
rough men of doubtful character and calling, with whom
he had passed one evening, were actually humane enough to
feel pity for his age, and sympathy for his seeming loneli-
ness and poverty, and that they had sufficient heart and
generosity to deprive themselves of money in order to help
one whom they judged to be in greater need ; then the
pure intention and honest kindness of the little " surprise "
gift came upon him all at once, and he was not ashamed to
feel his eyes full of tears.
" God forgive me ! " he murmured " God forgive me
that I ever judged the poor by the rich ! "
With an almost reverential tenderness, he folded the paper
and coins together, and put the little packet carefully away,
determining never to part with it.
" For its value outweighs every bank-note I ever han-
dled ! " he said "And I am prouder of it than of all my
millions ! "
CHAPTER VIII
THE light of the next day's sun, beaming with all the heat
and effulgence of full morning, bathed moor and upland in
a wide shower of gold, when Miss Tranter, standing on the
threshold of her dwelling, and shading her eyes with one
hand from the dazzling radiance of the skies, watched a
man's tall figure disappear down the rough and precipitous
road which led from the higher hills to the sea-shore. All
her night's lodgers had left her save one and he was still
soundly sleeping. Bill Bush had risen as early as five and
stolen away, Matt Peke had broken his fast with a cup of
hot milk and a hunch of dry bread, and shouldering his
basket, had started for Crowcombe, where he had several
customers for his herbal wares.
" Take care o' the old gaffer I brought along wi' me,"
had been his parting recommendation to the hostess of the
" Trusty Man." " Tell 'im I've left a bottle o' yerb wine
in the bar for 'im. M'appen ye might find an odd job or
two about th' 'ouse an' garden for 'im, just for lettin' 'im
rest a while."
Miss Tranter had nodded curtly in response to this sug-
gestion, but had promised nothing.
The last to depart from the inn was Tom o' the Gleam.
Tom had risen in what he called his " dark mood." He had
eaten no breakfast, and he scarcely spoke at all as he took
up his stout ash stick and prepared to fare forth upon his
way. Miss Tranter was not inquisitive, but she had rather
a liking for Tom, and his melancholy surliness was not lost
upon her.
"What's the matter with you?" she asked ^sharply.
" You're like a bear with a sore head this morning! "
He looked at her with sombre eyes in which the flame of
strongly restrained passions feverishly smouldered.
" I don't know what's the matter with me," he answered
slowly. " Last night I was happy. This morning I am
wretched ! "
" For no cause? "
" For no cause that I know of," and he heaved a sudden
sigh. " It is the dark spirit the warning of an evil hour ! "
109
110 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Stuff and nonsense ! " said Miss Tranter.
He was silent. His mouth compressed itself into a petu-
lant line, like that of a chidden child ready to cry.
" I shall be all right when I have kissed the kiddie,"
he said.
Miss Tranter sniffed and tossed her head.
" You're just a fool over that kiddie," she declared with
emphasis, " You make too much of him."
" How can I make too much of my all ? " he asked.
Her face softened.
" Well, it's a pity you look at it in that way," she said.
" You shouldn't set your heart on anything in this world."
" Why not ? " he demanded. " Is God a friend that He
should grudge us love ? "
Her lips trembled a little, but she made no reply.
" What am I to set my heart on ? " he continued " If not
on anything in this world, what have I got in the next ? "
A faint tinge of colour warmed Miss Tranter's sallow
cheeks.
" Your wife's in the next," she answered, quietly.
His face changed his eyes lightened.
" My wife ! " he echoed. " Good woman that you are,
you know she was never my wife ! No parson ever mocked
us wild birds with his blessing! She was my love my
love ! so much more than wife ! By Heaven ! If prayer
and fasting would bring me to the world where she is, I'd
fast and pray till I turned this body of mine to dust and
ashes! But my kiddie is all I have that's left of her; and
shall I not love him, nay, worship him for her sake ? "
Miss Tranter tried to look severe, but could not, the
strong vehemence of the man shook her self-possession.
" Love him, yes ! but don't worship him," she said.
" It's a mistake, Tom ! He's only a child, after all, and
he might be taken from you."
" Don't say that ! " and Tom suddenly gripped her by
the arm. " For God's sake don't say that ! Don't send me
away this morning with those words buzzing in my ears ! "
Great tears flashed into his eyes, his face paled and con-
tracted as with acutest agony.
" I'm sorry, Tom," faltered Miss Tranter, herself quite
overcome by his fierce emotion " I didn't mean "
" Yes yes ! that's right ! Say you didn't mean it ! "
muttered Tom, with a pained smile "You didn't ?"
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 111
" I didn't mean it ! " declared Miss Tranter earnestly.
" Upon my word I didn't, Tom ! "
He loosened his hold of her arm.
" Thank you ! God bless you ! " and a shudder ran
through his massive frame. " But it's all one with the
dark hour! all one with the wicked tongue of a dream
that whispers to me of a coming storm ! "
He pulled his rough cap over his brows, and strode for-
ward a step or two. Then he suddenly wheeled round
again, and doffed the cap to Miss Tranter.
" It's unlucky to turn back," he said, " yet I'm doing it,
because because I wouldn't have you think me sullen or
ill-tempered with youl Nor ungrateful. You're a good
woman, for all that you're a bit rough sometimes. If you
want to know where we are, we've camped down by Cleeve,
and we're on the way to Dunster. I take the short cuts
that no one else dare venture by over the cliffs and through
the cave-holes of the sea. When the old man comes down,
tell him I'll have a care of him if he passes my way. I like
his face ! I think he's something more than he seems."
" So do I ! " agreed Miss Tranter. " I'd almost swear
that he's a gentleman, fallen on hard times."
"A gentleman ! " Tom o' the Gleam laughed disdain-
fully " What's that ? Only a robber grown richer than
his neighbours ! Better be a plain Man any day than your
up-to-date ' gentleman ' ! "
With another laugh he swung away, and Miss Tranter
remained, as already stated, at the door of the inn for many
minutes, watching his easy stride over the rough stones and
clods of the " by-road " winding down to the sea. His
figure, though so powerfully built, was singularly graceful
in movement, and commanded the landscape much as that
of some chieftain of old might have commanded it in that
far back period of time when mountain thieves and maraud-
ers were the progenitors of all the British kings and their
attendant nobility.
" I wish I knew that man's real history ! " she mused, as
he at last disappeared from her sight. !< The folks about
here, suoh as Mr. Joltram, for instance, say he was never
born to the gypsy life, he speaks too well, and knows too
much. Yet he's wild enough and yes! I'm afraid he's
bad enough sometimes to be anything! "
Her meditations were here interrupted by a touch on her
112 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
arm, and turning, she beheld her round-eyed handmaiden,
Prue.
" The old man you sez is a gentleman is down, Mis'
Tranter ! "
Miss Tranter at once stepped indoors and confronted
Helmsley, who, amazed to find it nearly ten o'clock, now
proffered humble excuses to his hostess for his late rising.
She waived these aside with a good-humoured nod and
smile.
" That's all right ! " she said. " I wanted you to have a
good long rest, and I'm glad you got it. Were you dis-
turbed at all ? "
" Only by kindness," answered Helmsley in a rather
tremulous voice. " Some one came into my room while I
was asleep and and I found a ' surprise packet ' on my
pillow "
" Yes, I know all about it," interrupted Miss Tranter,
with a touch of embarrassment " Tom o' the Gleam did
that. He's just gone. He's a rough chap, but he's got a
heart. He thinks you're not strong enough to tramp it to
Cornwall. And all those great babies of men put their
heads together last night after you'd gone upstairs, and
clubbed up enough among them to give you a ride part of
the way "
"They're very good!" murmured Helmsley. "Why
should they trouble about an old fellow like me ? "
" Oh well! " said Miss Tranter cheerfully, " it's just be-
cause you are an old fellow, I suppose ! You see you might
walk to a station to-day, and take the train as far as Mine-
head before starting on the road again. Anyhow you've
time to think it over. If you'll step into the room yonder,
I'll send Prue with your breakfast."
She turned her back upon him, and with a shrill call of
" Prue ! Prue ! " affected to be too busy to continue the con-
versation. Helmsley, therefore, went as she bade him into
the common room, which at this hour was quite empty. A
neat white cloth was spread at one end of the table, and on
this was set a brown loaf, a pat of butter, a jug of new milk,
a basin of sugar, and a brightly polished china cup and
saucer. The window was open, and the inflow of the pure
fresh morning air had done much to disperse the odours of
stale tobacco and beer that subtly clung to the walls as re-
minders of the drink and smoke of the previous evening.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 113
Just outside, a tangle of climbing roses hung like a delicate
pink curtain between Helmsley's eyes and the sunshine,
while the busy humming of bees in and out the fragrant
hearts of the flowers, made a musical monotony of soothing
sound. He sat down and surveyed the simple scene with a
quiet sense of pleasure. He contrasted it in his memory
with the weary sameness of the breakfasts served to him in
his own palatial London residence, when the velvet-footed
butler creeping obsequiously round the table, uttered his
perpetual " Tea or coffee, sir ? 'Am or tongue ? Fish or
heggs ? " in soft sepulchral tones, as though these comestibles
had something to do with poison rather than nourishment.
With disgust at the luxury which engendered such domestic
appurtenances, he thought of the two tall footmen, whose
chief duty towards the serving of breakfast appeared to be
the taking of covers off dishes and the putting them on
again, as if six-footed able-bodied manhood were not equip-
ped for more muscular work than that !
" We do great wrong," he said to himself " We who are
richer than what are called the rich, do infinite wrong to
our kind by tolerating so much needless waste and useless
extravagance. We merely generate mischief for ourselves
and others. The poor are happier, and far kindlier to each
other than the moneyed classes, simply because they cannot
demand so much self-indulgence. The lazy habits of wealthy
men and women who insist on getting an unnecessary num-
ber of paid persons to do for them what they could very well
do for themselves, are chiefly to blame for all our tiresome
and ostentatious social conditions. Servants must, of course,
be had in every well-ordered household but too many of
them constitute a veritable hive of discord and worry. Why
have huge houses at all? Why have enormous domestic
retinues? A small house is always cosiest, and often pret-
tiest, and the fewer servants, the less trouble. Here again
comes in the crucial question Why do we spend all our best
years of youth, life, and sentiment in making money, when,
so far as the sweetest and highest things are concerned,
money can give so little ! "
At that moment, Prue entered with a brightly shining
old brown " lustre " teapot, and a couple of boiled eggs.
" Mis' Tranter sez you're to eat the eggs cos' they'se
new-laid an' incloodid in the bill," she announced glibly
"An' 'opes you've got all ye want."
114 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Helmsley looked at her kindly.
" You're a smart little girl ! " he said. " Beginning to
earn your own living already, eh ? "
" Lor', that aint much ! " retorted Prue, putting a knife by
the brown loaf, and setting the breakfast things even more
straightly on the table than they originally were. " I lives
on nothin' scarcely, though I'm turned fifteen an' likes a bit
o' fresh pork now an' agen. But I've got a brother as is
on'y ten, an' when 'e aint at school 'e's earnin' a bit by gath-
erin' mussels on the beach, an' 'e do collect a goodish bit
too, though 'taint reg'lar biziness, an' 'e gets hisself into such
a pickle o' salt water as never was. But he brings mother
a shillin' or two."
"And who is your mother?" asked Helmsley, drawing
up his chair to the table and sitting down.
" Misses Clodder, up at Blue-bell Cottage, two miles from
'ere across the moor," replied Prue. " She goes out a-char-
ing, but it's 'ard for 'er to be doin' chars now she's gettin'
old an' fat orful fat she be gettin'. Dunno what we'll do
if she goes on fattenin'."
It was difficult not to laugh at this statement, Prue's eyes
were so round, her cheeks were so red, and she breathed so
spasmodically as she spoke. David Helmsley bit his lips to
hide a broad smile, and poured out his tea.
" Have you no father ? "
" No, never 'ad," declared Prue, quite jubilantly. " 'E
droonk 'isself to death an' tumbled over a cliff near 'ere one
dark night an' was drowned ! " This, with the most thrill-
ing emphasis.
" That's very sad ! But you can't say you never had a
father," persisted Helmsley. " You had him before he was
drowned ? "
" No, I 'adn't," said Prue. " 'E never corned 'ome at all.
When 'e seed me 'e didn't know me, 'e was that blind droonk.
When my little brother was born 'e was 'owlin' wild down
Watchet way, an' screechin' to all the folks as 'ow the baby
wasn't his'n ! "
This was a doubtful subject, a "delicate and burning
question," as reviewers for the press say when they want
to praise some personal friend's indecent novel and pass it
into decent households, and Helmsley let it drop. He de-
voted himself to the consideration of his breakfast, which
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 115
was excellent, and found that he had an appetite to enjoy it
thoroughly.
Prue watched him for a minute or two in silence.
" Ye likes yer food ? " she demanded, presently.
"Very much!"
" Thought yer did ! I'll tell Mis' Tranter."
With that she retired, and shutting the door behind her
left Helmsley to himself.
Many and conflicting were the thoughts that chased one
another through his brain during the quiet half-hour he gave
to his morning meal, a whole fund of new suggestions and
ideas were being generated in him by the various episodes
in which he was taking an active yet seemingly passive part.
He had voluntarily entered into his present circumstances,
and so far, he had nothing to complain of. He had met
with friendliness and sympathy from persons who, judged
by the world's conventions, were of no social account what-
ever, and he had seen for himself men in a condition of
extreme poverty, who were nevertheless apparently con-
tented with their lot. Of course, as a well-known million-
aire, his secretaries had always had to deal with endless
cases of real or assumed distress, more often the latter, and
shoals of begging letters from people representing them-
selves as starving and friendless, formed a large part of the
daily correspondence with which his house and office were
besieged, but he had never come into personal contact with
these shameless sort of correspondents, shrewdly judging
them to be undeserving simply by the very fact that they
wrote begging letters. ' He knew that no really honest or
plucky-spirited man or woman would waste so much as a
stamp in asking money from a stranger, even if such a
stranger were twenty times a millionaire. He had given
huge sums away to charitable institutions anonymously ; and
he remembered with a thrill of pain the " Christian kind-
ness " of some good " Church " people, who, when the news
accidentally slipped out that he was the donor of a particu-
larly munificent gift to a certain hospital, remarked that " no
doubt Mr. Helmsley had given it anonymously at first, in
order that it might be made public more effectively after-
wards, by way of a personal advertisement!" Such spite-
ful comment often repeated, had effectually checked the out-
flow of his naturally warm and generous spirit, nevertheless
116 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
he was always ready to relieve any pressing cases of want
which were proved genuine, and many a wretched family in
the East End of London had cause to bless him for his timely
and ungrudging aid. But this present kind of life, the life
of the tramp, the poacher, the gypsy, who is content to be
" on the road " rather than submit to the trammels of cus-
tom and ordinance, was new to him and full of charm. He
took a peculiar pleasure in reflecting as to what he could
do to make these men, with whom he had casually foregath-
ered, happier? Did it lie in his power to give them any
greater satisfaction than that which they already possessed?
He doubted whether a present of money to Matt Peke, for
instance, would not offend that rustic philosopher, more than
it would gratify him ; while, as for Tom o' the Gleam, that
handsome ruffian was more likely to rob a" man of gold than
accept it as a gift from him. Then involuntarily, his
thoughts reverted to the " kiddie." He recalled the look in
Tom's wild eyes, and the almost womanish tremble of ten-
derness in his rough voice, when he had spoken of this little
child of his on whom he openly admitted he had set all
his love.
" I should like," mused Helmsley, " to see that kiddie !
Not that I believe in the apparent promise of a child's life,
for my own sons taught me the folly of indulging in any
hopes on that score and Lucy Sorrel has completed the
painful lesson. Who would have ever thought that she,
the little angel creature who seemed too lovely and innocent
for this world at ten, could at twenty have become the ex-
tremely .commonplace and practical woman she is, prac-
tical enough to wish to marry an old man for his money!
But that talk among the men last night about the ' kiddie '
touched me somehow, I fancy it must be a sturdy little
lad, with a bright face and a will of its own. I might pos-
sibly do something for the child if, if its father would let
me ! And that's very doubtful ! Besides, should I not be
interfering with the wiser and healthier dispensations of
nature ? The ' kiddie ' is no doubt perfectly happy in its
wild state of life, free to roam the woods and fields, with
every chance of building up a strong and vigorous constitu-
tion in the simple open-air existence to which it has been
born and bred. All the riches in the world could not make
health or freedom for it, and thus again I confront myself
with my own weary problem Why have I toiled all my life
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 117
to make money, merely to find money so useless and com-
fortless at the end ? "
With a sigh he rose from the table. His simple break-
fast was finished, and he went to the window to look at the
roses that pushed their pretty pink faces up to the sun
through a lattice-work of green leaves. There was a small
yard outside, roughly paved with cobbles, but clean, and
bordered here and there with bright clusters of flowers, and
in one particularly sunny corner where the warmth from the
skies had made the cobbles quite hot, a tiny white kitten
rolled on its back, making the most absurd efforts to catch
its own tail between its forepaws, and a promising 'brood
of fowls were clucking contentedly /round some scattered
grain lately flung out from the*. window of the "Trusty
Man's " wash-house for their delectation. There was noth-
ing in the scene at all of a character to excite envy in the
most morbid and dissatis'fiecl min'd; it, was full of the tam-
est domesticity, and yet it was a picture such as some
thoughtful Dutch artist would have liked to paint as a sug-
gestion of rural simplicity and peace.
" But if one only knew the ins and outs of the life here,
it might not prove so inviting," he thought. " I daresay
all the little towns and villages in this neighbourhood are
full of petty discords, jealousies, envy ings and spites, even
Prue's mother, Mrs. Clodder, may have, and probably has,
a neighbour whom she hates, and wishes to get the better of
in some way or other, for there is really no such thing as
actual peace anywhere except in the grave! And who
knows whether we shall even find it there! Nothing dies
which does not immediately begin to live in another fash-
ion. And every community, whether of insects, birds, wild
animals, or men and women, is bound to fight for exist-
ence, therefore those who cry : ' Peace, peace ! ' only
clamour for a vain thing. The very stones and rocks and
mountains maintain a perpetual war with destroying ele-
ments, they appear immutable things to our short lives,
but they change in their turn even as we do they die to live
again in other forms, even as we do. And what is it all for?
What is the sum and substance of so much striving if
merest Nothingness is the end ? "
He was disturbed from his reverie by the entrance of
Miss Tranter. He turned round and smiled at her.
" Well " she said" Enjoyed your breakfast? "
118 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Very much indeed, thanks to your kindness ! " he replied.
" I hardly thought I had such a good appetite left to me. I
feel quite strong and hearty this morning."
" You look twice the man you were last night, certainly,"
and she eyed him thoughtfully " Would you like a
job here? "
A flush rose to his brows. He hesitated before replying.
" You'd rather not ! " snapped out Miss Tranter " I can
see ' No ' in your face. Well, please yourself ! "
He looked at her. Her lips were compressed in a thin
line, and she wore a decidedly vexed expression.
"Ah, you think I don't want to work ! " he said " There
you're wrong! But I haven't many years of life in me,
there's not much time left to do what I have to do, and I
must get on."
' Get on, where ? "
' To Cornwall."
' Whereabouts in Cornwall ? "
' Down by Penzance way."
' You want to start off on the tramp again at once ? "
' Yes."
'All right, you must do as you like, I suppose," and
Miss Tranter sniffed whole volumes of meaning in one
sniff " But Farmer Joltram told me to say that if you
wanted a light job up on his place, that's about a mile
from here, he wouldn't mind giving you a chance. You'd
get good victuals there, for he feeds his men well. And I
don't mind trusting you with a bit of gardening you could
make a shilling a day easy so don't say you can't get work.
That's the usual whine but if you say it "
" I shall be a liar ! " said Helmsley, his sunken eyes light-
ing up with a twinkle of merriment "And don't you fear,
Miss Tranter, I won't say it! I'm grateful to Mr. Jolt-
ram but I've only one object left to me in life, and that
is to get on, and find the person I'm looking for if a
can ! "
" Oh, you're looking for a person, are you ? " queried Miss
Tranter, more amicably " Some long-lost relative ? "
" No, not a relative, only a friend."
" I see ! " Miss Tranter smoothed down her neatly fitting
plain cotton gown with both hands reflectively "And you'll
be all right if you find this friend ? "
" I shall never want anything any more," he answered,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN lip
with an unconsciously pathetic tremor in his voice " My
dearest wish will be granted, and I shall be quite content
to die ! "
" Well, content or no content, you've got to do it," com-
mented Miss Tranter "And so have I and so have all of
us. Which I think is a pity. I shouldn't mind living for
ever and ever in this world. It's a very comfortable world,
though some folks say it isn't. That's mostly liver with
them though. People who don't over-eat or over-drink
themselves, and who get plenty of fresh air, are generally
fairly pleased with the world as they find it. I suppose the
friend you're looking for will be glad to see you ? "
" The friend I'm looking for will certainly be glad to see
me," said Helmsley, gently " Glad to see me glad to help
me glad above all things to love me ! If this were not so,
I should not trouble to search for my friend at all."
Miss Tranter fixed her eyes full upon him while he thus
spoke. They were sharp eyes, and just now they were visi-
bly inquisitive.
" You've not been very long used to tramping," she
observed.
" No."
" I expect you've seen better days ? "
" Some few, perhaps," and he smiled gravely " But
it comes harder to a man who has once known comfort to
find himself comfortless in his old age."
" That's very true ! Well ! " and Miss Tranter gave a
short sigh " I'm sorry you won't stay on here a bit to pick
up your strength but a wilful man must have his way ! I
hope you'll find your friend ! "
" I hope I shall ! " said Helmsley earnestly. "And believe
me I'm most grateful to you "
" Tut ! " and Miss Tranter tossed her head. " What do
you want to be grateful to me for! You've had food and
lodging, and you've paid me for it. I've offered you work
and you won't take it. That's the long and short of it be-
tween us."
And thereupon she marched out of the room, her head
very high, her shoulders very square, and her back very
straight. Helmsley watched her dignified exit with a curi-
ous sense of half-amused contrition.
"What odd creatures some women are!" he thought.
" Here's this sharp-tongued, warm-hearted hostess of a
120 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
roadside inn quite angry because, apparently, an old tramp
won't stay and do incompetent work for her! She knows
that I should make a mere boggle of her garden, she is
equally aware that I could be no use in any way on
' Feathery ' Joltram's farm and yet she is thoroughly an-
noyed and disappointed because I won't try to do what she
is perfectly confident I can't do, in order that I shall rest
well and be fed well for one or two days ! Really the kind-
ness of the poor to one another outvalues all the gifts of the
rich to the charities they help to support. It is so much
more than ordinary ' charity,' for it goes hand in hand with
a touch of personal feeling. And that is what few rich men
ever get, except when their pretended ' friends ' think they
can make something for themselves out of their assumed
' friendship ' ! "
He put on his hat, and plucked one of the roses clamber-
ing in at the window to take with him as a remembrance of
the " Trusty Man," a place which he felt would hencefor-
ward be a kind of landmark for the rest of his life to save
him from drowning in utter cynicism, because within its
walls he had found unselfish compassion for his age and
loneliness, and disinterested sympathy for his seeming need.
Then he went to say good-bye to Miss Tranter. She was,
as usual, in the bar, standing very erect. She had taken up
her knitting, and her needles clicked and glittered busily.
" Matt Peke left a bottle of his herb wine for you," she
said. " There it is."
She indicated by a jerk of her head a flat oblong quart
flask, neatly corked and tied with string, which lay on the
counter. It was of a conveniently portable shape, and
Helmsley slipped it into one of his coat pockets with ease.
"Shall you be seeing Peke soon again, Miss Tranter?"
he asked.
" I don't know. Maybe so, and maybe not. He's
gone on to Crowcombe. I daresay he'll come back this
way before the end of the month. He's a pretty regular
customer."
" Then, will you thank him for me, and say that I shall
never forget his kindness ? "
" Never forget is a long time," said Miss Tranter. " Most
folks forget their friends directly their backs are turned."
"That's true," said Helmsley, gently; "but I shall not.
Good-bye!"
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 121
" Good-bye ! " Miss Tranter paused in her knitting.
" Which road are you going from here ? "
Helmsley thought a moment.
" Perhaps," he said at last, " one of the main roads would
be best. I'd rather not risk any chance of losing my way."
Miss Tranter stepped out of the bar and came to the open
doorway of the inn.
" Take that path across the moor," and she pointed with
one of her bright knitting needles to a narrow beaten track
between the tufted grass, whitened here and there by clusters
of tall daisies, " and follow it as straight as you can. It will
bring you out on the highroad to Williton and Watchett.
It's a goodish bit of tramping on a hot day like this, but if
you keep to it steady you'll be sure to get a lift or so in
waggons going along to Dunster. And there are plenty of
publics about where I daresay you'd get a night's sixpenny
shelter, though whether any of them are as comfortable as
the ' Trusty Man,' is open to question."
" I should doubt it very much," said Helmsley, his rare
kind smile lighting up his whole face. " The ' Trusty Man '
thoroughly deserves trust; and, if I may say so, its kind
hostess commands respect."
He raised his cap with the deferential easy grace which
was habitual to him, and Miss Tranter's pale cheeks red-
dened suddenly and violently.
" Oh, I'm only a rough sort ! " she said hastily. " But
the men like me because I don't give them away. I hold
that the poor must get a bit of attention as well as the
rich."
" The poor deserve it more," rejoined Helmsley. " The
rich get far too much of everything in these days, they are
too much pampered and too much flattered. Yet, with it
all, I daresay they are often miserable."
" It must be pretty hard to be miserable on twenty or
thirty thousand a year ! " said Miss Tranter.
" You think so ? Now, I should say it was very easy.
For when one has everything, one wants nothing."
"Well, isn't it all right to want nothing?" she queried,
looking at him inquisitively.
"All right? No! rather all wrong! For want stimu-
lates the mind and body to work, and work generates health
and energy, and energy is the pulse of life. Without that
pulse, one is a mere husk of a man as I am ! " He doffed
122 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
his cap again. " Thank you for all your friendliness. Good-
bye ! "
" Good-bye ! Perhaps I shall see you again some time
this way ? "
" Perhaps but "
" With your friend ? " she suggested.
"Ay if I find my friend then possibly I may return.
Meanwhile, all good be with you ! "
He turned away, and began to ascend the path indicated
across the moor. Once he looked back and waved his
hand. Miss Tranter, in response, waved her piece of knit-
ting. Then she went on clicking her needles rapidly
through a perfect labyrinth of stitches, her eyes fixed all
the while on the tall, thin, frail figure which, with the as-
sistance of a stout stick, moved slowly along between the
nodding daisies.
" He's what they call a mystery," she said to herself.
" He's as true-born a gentleman as ever lived with a gen-
tleman's ways, a gentleman's voice, and a gentleman's hands,
and yet he's ' on the road ' like a tramp ! Well ! there's many
ups and downs in life, certainly, and those that's rich to-day
may be poor to-morrow. It's a queer world and God who
made it only knows what it was made for ! "
With that, having seen the last of Helmsley's retreating
figure, she went indoors, and relieved her feelings by put-
ting Prue through her domestic paces in a fashion that con-
siderably flurried that small damsel and caused her to won-
der, " what 'ad come over Miss Tranter suddint, she was
that beside 'erself with work and temper ! "
CHAPTER IX
IT was pleasant walking across the moor. The July sun
was powerful, but to ageing men the warmth and vital in-
fluences of the orb of day are welcome, precious, and salu-
tary. An English summer is seldom or never too warm
for those who are conscious that but few such summers are
left to them, and David Helmsley was moved by a devout
sense of gratitude that on this fair and tranquil morning he
was yet able to enjoy the lovely and loving beneficence of
all beautiful and natural things. The scent of the wild
thyme growing in prolific patches at his feet, the more
pungent odour of the tall daisies which were of a hardy,
free-flowering kind, the " strong sea-daisies that feast on
the sun," and the indescribable salty perfume that swept
upwards on the faint wind from the unseen ocean, just now
hidden by projecting shelves of broken ground fringed with
trees, all combined together to refresh the air and to make
the mere act of breathing a delight. After about twenty
minutes' walking Helmsley's step grew easier and more
spring} 7 , almost he felt young, almost he pictured him-
self living for another ten years in health and active mental
power. The lassitude and ennui inseparable from a life
spent for the most part in the business centres of London,
had rolled away like a noxious mist from his mind, and he
was well-nigh ready to " begin life again," as he told him-
self, with a smile at his own folly.
" No wonder that the old-world philosophers and scientists
sought for the elixir vitas I" he thought. "No wonder
they felt that the usual tenure is too short for all that a man
might accomplish, did he live well and wisely enough to do
justice to all the powers with which nature has endowed
him. I am myself inclined to think that the ' Tree of Life'
exists, perhaps its leaves are the ' leaves of the Daura,' for
which that excellent fellow Matt Peke is looking. Or it
may be the ' Secta Croa ' ! "
He smiled, and having arrived at the end of the path
which he had followed from the door of the " Trusty Man,"
he saw before him a descending bank, which sloped into the
123
124 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
highroad, a wide track white with thick dust stretching
straight away for about a mile and then dipping round a
broad curve of land, overarched with trees. He sat down
for a few minutes on the warm grass, giving himself up to
the idle pleasure of watching the birds skimming through
the clear blue sky, the bees bouncing in and out of the
buttercups, the vari-coloured butterflies floating like blown
flower-petals on the breeze, and he heard a distant bell
striking the half-hour after eleven. He had noted the time
when leaving the " Trusty Man," otherwise he would not
have known it so exactly, having left his watch locked up at
home in his private desk with other personal trinkets which
would have been superfluous and troublesome to him on his
self-imposed journey. When the echo of the bell's one
stroke had died away it left a great stillness in the air. The
heat was increasing as the day veered towards noon, and
he decided that it would be as well to get on further down
the road and under the shadow of the trees, which were not
so very far off, and which looked invitingly cool in their
spreading dark soft greenness. So, rising from his brief
rest, he started again " on the tramp," and soon felt the full
glare of the sun, and the hot sensation of the dust about his
feet ; but he went on steadily, determining to make light of
all the inconveniences and difficulties, to which he was en-
tirely unaccustomed, but to which he had voluntarily ex-
posed himself. For a considerable time he met no living
creature ; the highroad seemed to be as much his own as
though it were part of a private park or landed estate be-
longing to him only ; and it was not till he had nearly accom-
plished the distance which lay between him and the shelter
of the trees, that he met a horse and cart slowly jogging
along towards the direction from whence he had come. The
man who drove the vehicle was half-asleep, stupefied, no
doubt, by the effect of the hot sun following on a possible
" glass " at a public-house, but Helmsley called to him just
for company's sake.
" Hi ! Am I going right for Watchett ? "
The man opened his drowsing eyes and yawned ex-
pansively.
"Watchett? Ay! Williton comes fust."
"Is it far?"
" Nowt's far to your kind ! " said the man, flicking his
whip. "An' ye'll meet a bobby or so on the road ! "
On he went, and Helmsley without further parley re-
sumed his tramp. Presently, reaching the clump of trees
he had seen in the distance, he moved into their refreshing 1
shade. They were broad-branched elms, luxuriantly full of
foliage, and the avenue they formed extended for about a
quarter of a mile. Cool dells and dingles of mossy green
sloped down on one side of the road, breaking into what are
sometimes called " coombs " running precipitously towards
the sea-coast, and slackening his pace a little he paused,
looking through a tangle of shrubs and bracken at the pale
suggestion of a glimmer of blue which he realised was the
shining of the sunlit ocean. While he thus stood, he fancied
he heard a little plaintive whine as of an animal in pain. He
listened attentively. The sound was repeated, and, descend-
ing the shelving bank a few steps he sought to discover the
whereabouts of this piteous cry for help. All at once he
spied two bright sparkling eyes and a small silvery grey head
perking up at him through the leaves, the head of a tiny
Yorkshire " toy " terrier. It looked at him with eloquent
anxiety, and as he approached it, it made an effort to move,
but fell back again with a faint moan. Gently he picked it
up, it was a rare and beautiful little creature, but one of
its silky forepaws had evidently been caught in some trap,
for it was badly mangled and bleeding. Round its neck
was a small golden collar, something like a lady's bracelet,
bearing the inscription : " I am Charlie. Take care of
me ! " There was no owner's name or address, and the
entreaty " Take care of me ! " had certainly not been com-
plied with, or so valuable a pet would not have been left
wounded on the highroad. While Helmsley was examin-
ing it, it ceased whining, and gently licked his hand. See-
jng a trickling stream of water making its way through the
moss and ferns close by, he bathed the little dog's wounded
paw carefully and tied it up with a strip of material torn
from his own coat sleeve.
" So you want to be taken care of, do you, Charlie ! " he
said, patting the tiny head. " That's what a good many
of us want, when we feel hurt and broken by the hard ways
of the world ! " Charlie blinked a dark eye, cocked a small
soft ear, and ventured on another caress of the kind human
hand with his warm little tongue. " Well, I won't leave you
to starve in the woods, or trust you to the tender mercies
of the police, you shall come along with me ! And if I
126 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
see any advertisement of your loss I'll perhaps take you back
to your owner. But in the meantime we'll stay together."
Charlie evidently agreed to this proposition, for when
Helmsley tucked him cosily under his arm, he settled down
comfortably as though well accustomed to the position. He
was certainly nothing of a weight to carry, and his new
owner was conscious of a certain pleasure in feeling the
warm, silky little body nestling against his breast. He was
not quite alone any more, this little creature was a com-
panion, a something to talk to, to caress and to protect.
He ascended the bank, and regaining the highroad resumed
his vagrant way. Noon was now at the full, and the sun's
heat seemed to create a silence that was both oppressive and
stifling. He walked slowly, and began to feel that perhaps
after all he had miscalculated his staying powers, and that
the burden of old age would, in the end, take vengeance
upon him for running risks of fatigue and exhaustion which,
in his case, were wholly unnecessary.
" Yet if I were really poor," he argued with himself, " if
I were in very truth a tramp, I should have to do exactly
what I am doing now. If one man can stand ' life on the
road/ so can another."
And he would not allow his mind to dwell on the fact
that a temperament which has become accustomed to every
kind of comfort and luxury is seldom fitted to endure priva-
tion. On he jogged steadily, and by and by began to be
entertained by his own thoughts as pleasantly as a poet or
romancist is entertained by the fancies which come and go
in the brain with all the vividness of dramatic reality. Yet
always he found himself harking back to what he sometimes
called the " incurability " of life. Over and over again he
asked himself the old eternal question: Why so much
Product to end in Waste? Why are thousands of millions
of worlds, swarming with life-organisms, created to revolve
in space, if there is no other fate for them but final destruc-
tion?
" There must be an Afterwards ! " he said. " Otherwise
Creation would not only be a senseless joke, but a wicked
one ! Nay, it would almost be a crime. To cause creatures
to be born into existence without their own consent, merely
to destroy them utterly in a few years and make the fact of
their having lived purposeless, would be worse than the
dreams of madmen. For what is the use of bringing human
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 127
creatures into the world to suffer pain, sickness, and sorrow,
if mere life-torture is all we can give them, and death is the
only end ? "
Here his meditations were broken in upon by the sound of
a horse's hoofs trotting briskly behind him, and pausing,
he saw a neat little cart and pony coming along, driven by a
buxom-looking woman with a brown sun-hat tied on in the
old-fashioned manner under her chin.
"Would ye like a lift?" she asked. "It's mighty warm
walkin'."
Helmsley raised his eyes to the sun-bonnet, and smiled at
the cheerful freckled face beneath its brim. ,
" You're very kind " he began.
" Jump in ! " said the woman. " I'm taking cream and
cheeses into Watchett, but it's a light load, an' Jim an' me
can do with ye that far. This is Jim."
She flicked the pony's ears with her whip by way of in-
troducing the animal, and Helmsley clambered up into the
cart beside her.
" That's a nice little dog you've got," she remarked, as
Charlie perked his small black nose out from under his pro-
tector's arm to sniff the subtle atmosphere of what was going
to happen next. " He's a real beauty ! "
" Yes," replied Helmsley, without volunteering any in-
formation as to how he had found the tiny creature, whom
he now had no inclination to part with. " He got his paw
caught in a trap, so I'm obliged to carry him."
" Poor little soul ! There's a-many traps all about 'ere,
lots o' the land bein' private property. Go on, Jim ! " And
she shook the reins on her pony's neck, thereby causing that
intelligent animal to start off at a pleasantly regular pace.
" I allus sez that if the rich ladies and gentlemen as eats up
every bit o' land in Great Britain could put traps in the air
to catch the noses of everything but themselves as dares to
breathe it, they'd do it, singin' glory all the time. For they
goes to church reg'lar."
"Ah, it's a wise thing to be seen looking good in public ! "
said Helmsley.
The woman laughed.
" That's right ! You can do a lot o' humbuggin' if you're
friends with the parson, what more often than not humbugs
everybody hisself. I'm no church-goer, but I turn out the
best cheese an' butter in these parts, an' I never tells no lies
128 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
nor cheats any one of a penny, so I aint worryin' about my
soul, seein' it's straight with my neighbours."
"Are there many rich people living about here ? " inquired
Helmsley.
" Not enough to do the place real good. The owners
of the big houses are here to-day and gone to-morrow,
and they don't trouble much over their tenantry. Still we
rub on fairly well. None of us can ever put by for a rainy
day, and some folk as is as hard-working as ever they
can be, are bound to come on the parish when they can't
work no more no doubt o' that. You're a stranger to
these parts ? "
" Yes, I've tramped from Bristol."
The woman opened her eyes widely.
" That's a long way ! You must be fairly strong for your
age. Where are ye wantin' to get to ? "
" Cornwall."
" My word ! You've got a goodish bit to go. All Devon
lies before you."
" I know that. But I shall rest here and there, and per-
haps get a lift or two if I meet any more such kind-hearted
folk as yourself."
She looked at him sharply.
" That's what we may call a bit o' soft soap," she said,
" and I'd advise ye to keep that kind o' thing to your-
self, old man! It don't go down with Meg Ross, I can
tell ye ! "
" Are you Meg Ross ? " he asked, amused at her manner.
" That's me ! I'm known all over the countryside for
the sharpest tongue as ever wagged in a woman's head.
So you'd better look out ! "
" I'm not afraid of you ! " he said smiling.
" Well, you might be if you knew me ! " and she whipped
up her pony smartly. " Howsomever, you're old enough
to be past hurtin' or bein' hurt."
" That's true ! " he responded gently.
She was silent after this, and not till Watchett was reached
did she again begin conversation. Rattling quickly through
the little watering-place, which at this hour seemed alto-
gether deserted or asleep, she pulled up at an inn in the
middle of the principal street.
" I've got an order to deliver here," she said. " What are
you going to do with yourself ? "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 129
" Nothing in particular," he answered, with a smile. " I
shall just take my little dog to a chemist's and get its paw
dressed, and then I shall walk on."
" Don't you want any dinner ? "
"Not yet. I had a good breakfast. I daresay I'll have
a glass of milk presently."
" Well, if you come back here in half an hour I can drive
you on a little further. How would you like that ? "
" Very much ! But I'm afraid of troubling you "
" Oh, you won't do that ! " said Meg with a defiant air.
" No man, young or old, has ever troubled me! I'm not
married, thank the Lord ! "
And jumping from the cart, she began to pull out sundry
cans, jars, and boxes, while Helmsley standing by with
the small Charlie under his arm, wished he could help her,
but felt sure she would resent assistance even if he offered
it. Glancing at him, she gave him a kindly nod.
" Off you go with your little dog ! You'll find me ready
here in half an hour."
With that she turned from him into the open doorway
of the inn, and Helmsley made his way slowly along the
silent, sun-baked little street till he found a small chemist's
shop, where he took his lately found canine companion
to have its wounded paw examined and attended to. No
bones were broken, and the chemist, a lean, pale, kindly
man, assured him that in a few days the little animal would
be quite well.
" It's a pretty creature," he said. " And valuable too."
" Yes. I found it on the highroad," said Helmsley ; " and
of course if I see any advertisement out for it, I'll return
it to its owner. But if no one claims it I'll keep it."
" Perhaps it fell out of a motor-car," said the chemist.
" It looks as if it might have belonged to some fine lady
who was too wrapped up in herself to take proper care of
it. There are many of that kind who come this way touring
through Somerset and Devon."
" I daresay you're right," and Helmsley gently stroked
the tiny dog's soft silky coat. " Rich women will pay any
amount of money for such toy creatures out of mere caprice,
and will then lose them out of sheer laziness, forgetting
that they are living beings, with feelings and sentiments of
trust and affection greater sometimes than our own. How-
ever, this little chap will be safe with me till he is right-
ISO THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
fully claimed, if ever that happens. I don't want to steal
him ; I only want to take care of him."
" I should never part with him if I were you," said the
chemist. " Those who were careless enough to lose him
deserve their loss."
Helmsley agreed, and left the shop. Finding a confec-
tioner's near by, he bought a few biscuits for his new pet,
an attention which that small animal highly appreciated.
" Charlie " was hungry, and cracked and munched the bis-
cuits with exceeding relish, his absurd little nose becoming
quite moist with excitement and appetite. Returning pres-
ently to the inn where he had left Meg Ross, Helmsley
found that lady quite ready to start.
" Oh, here you are, are you ? " she said, smiling pleasantly,
" Well, I'm just on the move. Jump in ! "
Helmsley hesitated a moment, standing beside the pony-
cart.
" May I pay for my ride ? " he said.
"Pay?" Meg stuck her stout arms akimbo, and glanced
him all over. " Well, I never ! How much 'ave ye got ? "
" Two or three shillings," he answered.
Meg laughed, showing a very sound row of even white
teeth.
"All right! You can keep 'em!" she said. " Mebbe
you want 'em. 7 don't! Now don't stand haverin' there,
get in the cart quick, or Jim'll be runnin' away."
Jim showed no sign of this desperate intention, but, on
the contrary, stood very patiently waiting till his passengers
were safely seated, when he trotted off at a great pace,
with such a clatter of hoofs and rattle of wheels as rendered
conversation impossible. But Helmsley was very content
to sit in silence, holding the little dog " Charlie " warmly
against his breast, and watching the beauties of the scenery
expand before him like a fairy panorama, ever broadening
into fresh glimpses of loveliness. It was a very quiet coast-
line which the windings of the road now followed, a fair
and placid sea shining at wide intervals between a lavish
flow of equally fair and placid fields. The drive seemed all
too short, when at the corner of a lane embowered in trees,
Meg Ross pulled up short.
" The best of friends must part ! " she said. " I'm right
sorry I can't take ye any further. But down 'ere's a farm
where I put up for the afternoon an' 'elps 'em through with
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 131
their butter-makin', for there's a lot o' skeery gals in the
fam'ly as thinks more o' doin' their 'air than churnin', an'
doin' the 'air don't bring no money in, though mebbe it
might catch a 'usband as wasn't worth 'avin'. An' Jim
gets his food 'ere too. Howsomever, I'm real put about
that I can't drive ye a bit towards Cleeve Abbey, for that's
rare an' fine at this time o' year, but mebbe ye're wantin'
to push on quickly ? "
" Yes, I must push on," rejoined Helmsley, as he got
out of the cart; then, standing in the road, he raised his
cap to her. " And I'm very grateful to you for helping
me along so far, at the hottest time of the day too. It's
most kind of you ! "
" Oh, I don't want any thanks ! " said Meg, smiling.
" I'm rather sweet on old men, seem' old age aint their fault
even if trampin' the road is. You'd best keep on the straight
line now, till you come to Blue Anchor. That's a nice little
village, and you'll find an inn there where you can get a
night's lodging cheap. I wouldn't advise you to stay much
round Cleeve after sundown, for there's a big camp of gypsies
about there, an' they're a rough lot, pertikly a man they
calls Tom o' the Gleam."
Helmsley smiled.
" I know Tom o' the Gleam," he said. " He's a friend
of mine."
Meg Ross opened her round, bright brown eyes.
"Is he? Dear life, if I'd known that, I mightn't 'ave
been so ready to give you a ride with me ! " she said, and
laughed. " Not that I'm afraid of Tom, though he's a queer
customer. I've given a good many glasses of new milk to
his ' kiddie,' as he calls that little lad of his, so I expect
I'm fairly in his favour."
" I've never seen his ' kiddie,' " said Helmsley. " What
is the boy like?"
" A real fine little chap ! " said Meg, with heartiness and
feeling. " I'm not a crank on children, seein' most o' them's
muckers an' trouble from mornin' to night, but if it 'ad
pleased the Lord as I should wed, I shouldn't 'a wished
for a better specimen of a babe than Tom's kiddie. Pity
the mother died ! "
" When the child was born ? " queried Helmsley gently.
" No oh no ! " and Meg's eyes grew thoughtful. " She
got through her trouble all right, but 'twas about a year
132 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
or eighteen months arterwards that she took to pinin' like,
an' droopin' down just like the poppies droops in the corn
when the sun's too fierce upon 'em. She used to sit by the
roadside o' Sundays, with a little red handkerchief tied
across her shoulders, and all her dark 'air tumblin' about
J er face, an' she used to look up with her great big black
eyes an' smile at the finicky fine church misses as come
mincin' an' smirkin' along, an' say : ' Tell your fortune,
lady?' She was the prettiest creature I ever saw not a
good lass no ! nobody could say she was a good lass,
for she went to Tom without church or priest, but she
loved him an' was faithful. An' she just worshipped her
baby." Here Meg paused a moment. " Tom was a real
danger to the country when she died," she presently went
on. " He used to run about the woods like a madman,
calling her to come back to 'im, an' threatenin' to murder
any one who came nigh 'im ; then, by and by, he took to
the kiddie, an' he's steadier now."
There was something in the narration of this little history
that touched Helmsley too deeply for comment, and he was
silent.
" Well ! " and Meg gave her pony's reins a shake " I
must be off! Sorry to leave ye standin' in the middle o'
the road like, but it can't be helped. Mind you keep the
little dog safe ! and take a woman's advice don't walk
too far or too fast in one day. Good luck t' ye ! "
Another shake of the reins, and " Jim " turned briskly
down the lane. Once Meg looked back and waved her
hand, then the green trees closed in upon her disappearing
vehicle, and Helmsley was again alone, save for " Charlie,"
who, instinctively aware that some friend had left them,
licked his master's hand confidentially, as much as to say
" I am still with you." The air was cooler now, and Helms-
ley walked on with comparative ease and pleasure. His
thoughts were very busy. He was drawing comparisons
between the conduct of the poor and the rich to one another,
greatly to the disadvantage of the latter class.
" If a wealthy man has a carriage," he soliloquised, " how
seldom will he offer it or think of offering its use to any
one of his acquaintances who may be less fortunate ! How
rarely will he even say a kind word to any man who is
' down ' ! Do I not know this myself ! I remember well
on one occasion when I wished to send my carriage for the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 133
use of a poor fellow who had once been employed in my
office, but who had been compelled to give up work, owing
to illness, my secretary advised me not to show him this
mark of sympathy and attention. ' He will only take it
as his right,' I was assured, ' these sort of men are always
ungrateful/ And I listened to my secretary's advice more
fool I ! For it should have been nothing to me whether
the man was ungrateful or not; the thing was to do the
good, and let the result be what it might. Now this poor
Meg Ross has no carriage, but such vehicle as she possesses
she shares with one whom she imagines to be in need. No
other motive has moved her save womanly pity for lonely
age and infirmity. She has taught me a lesson by simply
offering a kindness without caring how it might be received
or rewarded. Is not that a lovely trait in human nature?
one which I have never as yet discovered in what is
called * swagger society ' ! When I was in the hey-dey of
my career, and money was pouring in from all my business
' deals ' like water from a never-ending main, I had a young
Scotsman for a secretary, as close-fisted a fellow as ever
was, who managed to lose me the chance of doing a great
many kind actions. More than that, whenever I was likely
to have any real friends whom I could confidently trust,
and who wanted nothing from me but affection and sincerity,
he succeeded in shaking off the hold they had upon me.
Of course I know now why he did this, it was in order
that he himself might have his grip of me more securely,
but at that time I was unsuspicious, and believed the best
of every one. Yes! I honestly thought people were
honest, I trusted their good faith, with the result that I
found out the utter falsity of their pretensions. And here
I am, old and nearing the end of my tether more friend-
less than when I first began to make my fortune, with the
certain knowledge that not a soul has ever cared or cares
for me except for what can be got out of me in the way
of hard cash ! I have met with more real kindness from the
rough fellows at the ' Trusty Man,' and from the ' Trusty
Man's ' hostess, Miss Tranter, and now from this good
woman Meg Ross, than has ever been offered to me by
those who know I am rich, and who have ' used ' me
accordingly. "
Here, coming to a place where two cross-roads met, he
paused, looking about him. The afternoon was declining.
184 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
and the loveliness of the landscape was intensified by a mel-
low softness in the sunshine, which deepened the rich green
of the trees and wakened an opaline iridescence in the sea.
A sign-post on one hand bore the direction " To Cleeve
Abbey," and the road thus indicated wound upward some-
what steeply, disappearing amid luxuriant verdure which
everywhere crowned the higher summits of the hills. While
he yet stood, looking at the exquisitely shaded masses of
foliage which, like festal garlands, adorned and over-hung
this ascent, the discordant " hoot " of a motor-horn sounded
on the stillness, and sheer down the winding way came at
a tearing pace the motor vehicle itself. It was a large,
luxurious car, and pounded along with tremendous speed,
swerving at the bottom of the declivity with so sharp a
curve as to threaten an instant overturn, but, escaping this
imminent peril by almost a hairsbreadth, it dashed onward
straight ahead in a cloud of dust that for two or three min-
utes entirely blurred and darkened the air. Half-blinded
and choked by the rush of its furious passage past him,
Helmsley could only just barely discern that the car was
occupied by two men, the one driving, the other sitting
beside the driver, and shading his eyes from the sun, he
strove to track its way as it flew down the road, but in less
than a minute it was out of sight.
'' There's not much ' speed limit ' in that concern ! " he
said, half-aloud, still gazing after it. " I call such driving
recklessly wicked! If I could have seen the number of
that car, I'd have given information to the police. But
numbers on motors are no use when such a pace is kept
up, and the thick dust of a dry summer is whirled up by
the wheels. It's fortunate the road is clear. Yes, Charlie ! "
this, as he saw his canine foundling's head perk out from
under his arm, with a little black nose all a-quiver with
anxiety, " it's just as well for you that you've got a
wounded paw and can't run too far for the present ! If
you had been in the way of that car just now, your little
life would have been ended ! "
Charlie pricked his pretty ears, and listened, or appeared
tc listen, but had evidently no forebodings about himself
or his future. He was quite at home, and, after the fashion
of dogs, who are often so much wiser than men, argued that
being safe and comfortable now, there was no reason why he
should not be safe and comfortable always. And Helmsley
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 135
presently bent himself to steady walking, and got on well,
only pausing to get some tea and bread and butter at a
cottage by the roadside, where a placard on the gate in-
timated that such refreshments were to be had within. Nev-
ertheless, he was a slow pedestrian, and what with linger-
ing here and there for brief rests by the way, the sun had
sunk fully an hour before he managed to reach Blue Anchor,
the village of which Meg Ross had told him. It was a
pretty, peaceful place, set among wide stretches of beach,
extending for miles along the margin of the waters, and
the mellow summer twilight showed little white wreaths
of foam crawling lazily up on the sand in glittering curves
that gleamed like snow for a moment and then melted softly
away into the deepening darkness. He stopped at the first
ale-house, a low-roofed, cottage-like structure embowered
in clambering flowers. It had a side entrance which led into
a big, rambling stableyard, and happening to glance that
way he perceived a vehicle standing there, which he at
once recognised as the large luxurious motor-car that had
dashed past him at such a tearing pace near Cleeve. The
inn door was open, and the bar faced the road, exhibiting
a brave show of glittering brass taps, pewter tankards, pol-
ished glasses and many-coloured bottles, all these things
being presided over by a buxom matron, who was not only
an agreeable person to look at in herself, but who was as-
sisted by two pretty daughters. These young women, wear-
ing spotless white cuffs and aprons, dispensed the beer to
the customers, now and then relieving the monotony of
this occupation by carrying trays of bread and cheese and
meat sandwiches round the wide room of which the bar was
a part, evidently bent on making the general company stay
as long as possible, if fascinating manners and smiling eyes
could work any detaining influence. Helmsley asked for
a glass of ale and a plate of bread and cheese, and on being
supplied with these refreshments, sat down at a small table
in a corner well removed from the light, where he could see
without being seen. He did not intend to inquire for a
night's lodging yet. He wished first to ascertain for him-
self the kind of people who frequented the place. The fear
of discovery always haunted him, and the sight of that costly
motor-car standing in the stable-yard had caused him to
feel a certain misgiving lest any one of marked wealth or
position should turn out to be its owner. In such a case,
136 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
the world being proverbially small, and rich men being in
the minority, it was just possible that he, David Helmsley,
even clad as he was in workman's clothes and partially dis-
guised in features by the growth of a beard, might be
recognised. With this idea, he kept himself well back in
the shadow, listening attentively to the scraps of desultory
talk among the dozen or so of men in the room, while
carefully maintaining an air of such utter fatigue as to ap-
pear indifferent to all that passed around him. Nobody
noticed him, for which he was thankful. And presently,
when he became accustomed to the various contending
voices, which in their changing tones of gruff or gentle,
quick or slow, made a confused din upon his ears, he found
out that the general conversation was chiefly centred on one
subject, that of the very motor-car whose occupants he de-
sired to shun.
" Serve 'em right ! " growled one man. " Serve 'em right
to 'ave broke down! 'Ope the darned thing's broke alto-
gether ! "
" You shouldn't say that, 'taint Christian," expostulated
his neighbour at the same table. " Them cars cost a heap
o' money, from eight 'undred to two thousand pounds, I've
'eerd tell."
" Who cares ! " retorted the other. " Them as can pay
a fortin on a car to swish 'emselves about in, should be
made to keep on payin' till they're cleaned out o' money
for good an' all. The road's a reg'lar hell since them
engines started along cuttin' everything to pieces. There
aint a man, woman, nor child what's safe from the moneyed
murderers."
" Oh come, I say ! " ejaculated a big, burly young fellow
in corduroys. " Moneyed murderers is going a bit too
strong ! "
" No 'taint ! " said the first man who had spoken. " That's
what the motor-car folks are no more nor less. Only
t ? other day in Taunton, a woman as was the life an' soul
of 'er 'usband an' childern, was knocked down by a car
as big as a railway truck. It just swept 'er off the curb
like a bundle o' rags. She picked 'erself up again
an' walked 'ome, tremblin' a little, an' not knowin' rightly
what 'ad chanced to 'er, an' in less than an hour she was
dead. An' what did they say at the inquest? Just ' death
from shock' an' no more. For them as owned the mur-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 137
derin' car was proprietors o' a big brewery, and the coroner
hisself 'ad shares in it. That's 'ow justice is done now-
adays ! "
" Yes, we's an obligin' lot, we poor folks," observed a
little man in the rough garb of a cattle-driver, drawing his
pipe from his mouth as he spoke. " We lets the rich ride
over us on rubber tyres an' never sez a word on our own
parts, but trusts to the law for doin' the same to a million-
aire as 'twould to a beggar, but, Lord ! don't we see every
day as 'ow the millionaire gets off easy while the beggar
goes to prison? There used to be justice in old England,
but the time for that's gone past."
" There's as much justice in England as you'll ever get
anywheres else ! " interrupted the hostess at the bar, nod-
ding cheerfully at the men, and smiling, " And as for the
motor-cars, they bring custom to my house, and I don't
grumble at anything which does me and mine a good turn.
If it hadn't been for a breakdown in that big motor stand-
ing outside in the stableyard, I shouldn't have had two gen-
tlemen staying in my best rooms to-night. I never find
fault with money ! "
She laughed and nodded again in the pleasantest manner.
A slow smile went round among the men, it was impossible
not to smile in response to the gay good-humour expressed
on such a beaming countenance.
" One of them's a lord, too," she added. " Quite a young
fellow, just come into his title, I suppose." And referring
to her day-book, she ran her plump finger down the various
entries. " I've got his name here Wrotham, Lord Regin-
ald Wrotham."
" Wrotham ? That aint a name known in these parts,"
said the man in corduroys. " Wheer does 'e come
from?"
" I don't know," she replied. " And I don't very much
care. It's enough for me that he's here and spending
money
"Where's his ehauffy?" inquired a lad, lounging near
the bar.
" He hasn't got one. He drives his car himself. He's
got a friend with him a Mr. James Brookfield."
There was a moment's silence. Helmsley drew further
back into the corner where he sat, and restrained the little
dog Charlie from perking its inquisitive head out too far,
138 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
lest its beauty should attract undesirable attention. His
nervous misgivings concerning the owner of the motor-car
had not been entirely without foundation, for both Reginald
Wrotham and James Brookfield were well known to him.
Wrotham's career had been a sufficiently disgraceful one
ever since he had entered his teens, he was a modern
degenerate of the worst type, and though his,coming-of-age
and the assumption of his family title had caused certain
time-servers to enrol themselves among his flatterers and
friends, there were very few decent houses where so soiled
a member of the aristocracy as he was could find even a
semblance of toleration. James Brookfield was a proprietor
of newspapers as well as a " something in the City," and if
Helmsley had been asked to qualify that " something " by
a name, he would have found a term by no means compli-
mentary to the individual in question. Wrotham and Brook-
field were always seen together, they were brothers in
every sort of social iniquity and licentiousness, and an at-
tempt on Brookfield's part to borrow some thousands of
pounds for his " lordly " patron from Helmsley, had re-
sulted in the latter giving the would-be borrower's go-
between such a strong piece of his mind as he was not likely
to forget. And now Helmsley was naturally annoyed to
find that these two abandoned rascals were staying at the
very inn where he, in his character of a penniless wayfarer,
had hoped to pass a peaceful night; however, he resolved
to avoid all danger and embarrassment by leaving the place
directly he had finished his supper, and going in search of
some more suitable lodgment. Meanwhile, the hum of con-
versation grew louder around him, and opinion ran high
on the subject of " the right of the road."
" The roads are made for the people, sure-ly ! " said one
of a group of men standing near the largest table in the
room " And the people 'as the right to 'xpect safety to
life an' limb when they uses 'em."
" Well, the motors can put forward the same claim,"
retorted another. " Motor folks are people too, an' they
can say, if they likes, that if roads is made for people, they're
made for them as well as t' others, and they expects to
be safe on 'em with their motors at whatever pace they
travels."
" Go 'long ! " exclaimed the cattle-driver, who had before
taken part in the discussion " Aint we got to take cows
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 139
an' sheep an' 'osses by the road? An' if a car comes along
at the rate o' forty or fifty miles an hour, what's to be
done wi' the animals? An' if they're not to be on the road,
which way is they to be took ? "
" Them motors ought to have roads o' their own like
the railways," said a quiet-looking grey-haired man, who
was the carrier of the district. " When the steam-engine
was invented it wasn't allowed to go tearin' along the pub-
lic highway. They 'ad to make roads for it, an' lay tracks,
and they should do the same for motors which is gettin'
just as fast an' as dangerous as steam-engines."
" Yes, an' with makin' new roads an' layin' tracks, spoil
the country for good an' all ! " said the man in corduroys
" An' alter it so that there aint a bit o' peace or comfort
left in the land! Level the hills an' cut down the trees
pull up the hedges an' scare away all the singin' birds, till
the hull place looks like a football field ! all to please a few
selfish rich men who'd be better dead than livin' ! A fine
thing for England that would be ! "
At that moment, there was the noise of an opening door,
and the hostess, with an expressive glance at her customers,
held up her finger warningly.
" Hush, please ! " she said. " The gentlemen are com-
ing out."
A sudden pause ensued. The men looked round upon one
another, half sheepishly, half sullenly, and their growling
voices subsided into a murmur. The hostess settled the
bow at her collar more becomingly, and her two pretty
daughters feigned to be deeply occupied with some drawn
thread work. David Helmsley, noting everything that was
going on from his coign of vantage, recognised at once
the dissipated, effeminate-looking young man, who, stepping
out of a private room which opened on a corridor apparently
leading to the inner part of the house, sauntered lazily up
to the bar and, resting his arm upon its oaken counter,
smiled condescendingly, not to say insolently, upon the
women who stood behind it. There was no mistaking him,
it was the same Reginald Wrotham whose scandals in
society had broken his worthy father's heart, and who now,
succeeding to a hitherto unblemished title, was doing his
best to load it with dishonour. He was followed by his
friend Brookfield, a heavily-built, lurching sort of man,
with a nose reddened by strong drink, and small lascivious
140 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
eyes which glittered dully in his head like the eyes of a
poisonous tropical beetle. The hush among the " lower "
class of company at the inn deepened into the usual stupid
awe which at times so curiously affects untutored rustics
who are made conscious of the presence of a " lord." Said
a friend of the present writer's to a waiter in a country
hotel where one of these " lords " was staying for a few
days : " I want a letter to catch to-night's post, but I'm
afraid the mail has gone from the hotel. Could you send
some one to the post-office with it ? " " Oh yes, sir ! " replied
the waiter grandiloquently. " The servant of the Lord will
take it ! " Pitiful beyond most piteous things is the grov-
elling tendency of that section of human nature which has
not yet been educated sufficiently to lift itself up above
temporary trappings and ornaments; pitiful it is to see
men, gifted in intellect, or distinguished for bravery, flinch
and cringe before one of their own flesh and blood, who,
having neither cleverness nor courage, but only a Title,
presumes upon that foolish appendage so far as to consider
himself superior to both valour and ability. As well might
a stuffed boar's head assume a superiority to other comesti-
bles because decorated by the cook with a paper frill and
bow of ribbon ! The atmosphere which Lord Reginald
Wrotham brought with him into the common-room of the
bar was redolent of tobacco-smoke and whisky, yet, judg-
ing from the various propitiatory, timid, anxious, or servile
looks cast upon him by all and sundry, it might have been
fragrant and sacred incense wafted from the altars of the
goddess Fortune to her waiting votaries. Helmsley's spirit
rose up in contempt against the effete dandy as he watched
him leaning carelessly against the counter, twirling his
thin sandy moustache, and talking to his hostess merely for
the sake of offensively ogling her two daughters.
"Charming old place you have here! charming!"
drawled his lordship. " Perfect dream ! Love to pass all
my days in such a delightful spot ! 'Pon my life ! Awful
luck for us, the motor breaking down, or we never should
have stopped at such a jolly place, don't-cher-know. Should
we, Brookfield?"
Brookfield, gently scratching a pimple on his fat, clean-
shaven face, smiled knowingly.
" Couldn't have stopped ! " he declared. " We were doing
a record run. But we should have missed a great deal,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 141
a great deal ! " And he emitted a soft chuckle. " Not only
the place, but !"
He waved his hand explanatorily, with a slight bow,
which implied an unspoken compliment to the looks of the
mistress of the inn and her family. One of the young
women blushed and peeped slyly up at him. He returned
the glance with interest.
" May I ask," pursued Lord Wrotham, with an amicable
leer, "the names of your two daughters, Madam? They've
been awfully kind to us broken-down-travellers should just
like to know the difference between them. Like two roses
on one stalk, don't-cher-know ! Can't tell which is which ! "
The mother of the girls hesitated a moment. She was
not quite sure that she liked the " tone " of his lordship's
speech. Finally she replied somewhat stiffly:
" My eldest daughter is named Elizabeth, my lord, and
her sister is Grace."
" Elizabeth and Grace ! Charming ! " murmured Wro-
tham, leaning a little more confidentially over the counter
" Now which which is Grace ? "
At that moment a tall, shadowy form darkened the open
doorway of the inn, and a man entered, carrying in his arms
a small oblong bundle covered with a piece of rough horse-
cloth. Placing his burden down on a vacant bench, he
pushed his cap from his brows and stared wildly about
him. Every one looked at him, some with recognition,
others in alarm, and Helmsley, compelled as he was to keep
himself out of the general notice in his corner, almost started
to his feet with an involuntary pry of amazement. For it
was Tom o' the Gleam.
CHAPTER X
TOM o' THE GLEAM, Tom, with his clothes torn and cov-
ered with dust, Tom, changed suddenly to a haggard and
terrible unlikeness of himself, his face drawn and withered,
its healthy bronze colour whitened to a sickly livid hue,
Tom, with such an expression of dazed and stupid horror
in his eyes as to give the impression that he was heavily
in drink, and dangerous.
"Well, mates!" he said thickly " A fine night and a
clear moon ! "
No one answered him. He staggered up to the bar.
The hostess looked at him severely.
, " Now, Tom, what's the matter? " she said.
He straightened himself, and, throwing back his shoulders
as though parrying a blow, forced a smile.
" Nothing ! A touch of the sun ! " A strong shudder ran
through his limbs, and his teeth chattered, then suddenly
leaning forward on the counter, he whispered : " I'm not
drunk, mother! for God's sake don't think it! I'm ill.
Don't you see I'm ill? I'll be all right in a minute, give
me a drop of brandy ! "
She fixed her candid gaze full upon him. She had known
him well for years, and not only did she know him, but,
rough character as he was, she liked and respected him.
Looking him squarely in the face she saw at once that
he was speaking the truth. He was not drunk. He was
ill, very ill. The strained anguish on his features proved it.
" Hadn't you better come inside the bar and sit down ? "
she suggested, in a low tone.
" No, thanks I'd rather not. I'll stand just here."
She gave him the brandy he had asked for. He sipped
it slowly, and, pushing his cap further off his brows, turned
his dark eyes, full of smouldering fire, upon Lord Wrotham
and his friend, both of whom had succeeded in getting up
a little conversation with the hostess's younger daughter,
the girl named Grace. Her sister, Elizabeth, put down her
needlework, and watched Tom with sudden solicitude. An
instinctive dislike of Lord Wrotham and his companion
142
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 143
caused her to avoid looking their way, though she heard
every word they were saying, and her interest became
centred on the handsome gypsy, whose pallid features and
terrible expression filled her with a vague alarm.
" It would be awfully jolly of you if you'd come for a
spin in my motor," said his lordship, twirling his sandy
moustache and conveying a would-be amorous twinkle into
his small brown-green eyes for the benefit of the girl he
was ogling. " Beastly bore having a break-down, but it's
nothing serious half a day's work will put it all right, and
if you and your sister would like a turn before we go on
from here, I shall be charmed. We can't do the record
business now not this time, so it doesn't matter how
long we linger in this delightful spot."
" Especially in such delightful company ! " added his
friend, Brookfield. " I'm going to take a photograph of
this house to-morrow, and perhaps " here he smiled com-
placently " perhaps Miss Grace and Miss Elizabeth will
consent to come into the picture ? "
" Ya-as ya-as ! oh do!" drawled Wrotham. "Of
course they will! You will, I'm sure, Miss Grace! This
gentleman, Mr. Brookfield, has got nearly all the pictorials
under his thumb, and he'll put your portrait in them as
' The Beauty of Somerset/ won't you, Brookfield ? "
Brookfield laughed, a pleased laugh of conscious power.
" Of course I will," he said. " You have only to express
the wish and the thing is done ! "
Wrotham twirled his moustache again.
" Awful fun having a friend on the press, don't-cher-
know ! " he went on. " I get all my lady acquaintances
into the papers, makes 'em famous in a day ! The women
I like are made to look beautiful, and those I don't like are
turned into frights positive old horrors, give you my life !
Easily done, you know! touch up a negative whichever
way you fancy, and there you are ! "
, The girl Grace lifted her eyes, very pretty sparkling
eyes they were, and regarded him with a mutinous air
of contempt.
" It must be ' awfully ' amusing ! " she said sarcastically.
" It is ! give you my life ! " And his lordship played
with a charm in the shape of an enamelled pig which
dangled at his watch-chain. " It pleases all parties except
those whom I want to rub up the wrong way. I've made
144 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
many a woman's hair curl, I can tell you ! You'll be my
' Somersetshire beauty/ won't you, Miss Grace ? "
" I think not ! " she replied, with a cool glance. " My
hair curls quite enough already. I never use tongs ! "
Brookfield burst into a laugh, and the laugh was echoed
murmurously by the other men in the room. Wrotham
flushed and bit his lip.
" That's a one er for me," he said lazily. " Pretty
kitten as you are, Miss Grace, you can scratch! That's
always the worst of women, they've got such infernally
sharp tongues "
" Grace ! " interrupted her mother, at this juncture
" You are wanted in the kitchen."
Grace took the maternal hint and retired at once. At
that instant Tom o' the Gleam stirred slightly from his
hitherto rigid attitude. He had only taken half his glass
of brandy, but that small amount had brought back a tinge
of colour to his face and deepened the sparkle of fire in
his eyes.
" Good roads for motoring about here ! " he said.
Lord Wrotham looked up, then measuring the great
height, muscular build, and commanding appearance of the
speaker, nodded affably.
" First-rate ! " he replied. " We had a splendid run from
Cleeve Abbey."
" Magnificent ! " echoed Brookfield. " Not half a second's
stop all the way. We should have been far beyond Mine-
head by this time, if it hadn't been for the break-down.
We were racing from London to the Land's End, but we
took a wrong turning just before we came to Cleeve "
" Oh ! Took a wrong turning, did you ? " And Tom
leaned a little forward as though to hear more accurately.
His face had grown deadly pale again, and he breathed
quickly.
" Yes. We found ourselves quite close to Cleeve Abbey,
but we didn't stop to see old ruins this time, you bet! We
just tore down the first lane we saw running back into the
high-road., a pretty steep bit of ground too and, by Jove !
didn't we whizz round the corner at the bottom! That
was a near shave, I can tell you ! "
" Ay, ay ! " said Tom slowly, listening with an air of
profound interest. " You've got a smart chauffeur, no
doubt!"
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 145
* No chauffeur at all ! " declared Brookfield, emphatically.
" His lordship drives his car himself."
There followed an odd silence. All the customers in
the room, drinking and eating as many of them were, seemed
to be under a dumb spell. Tom o' the Gleam's presence
was at all times more or less of a terror to the timorous,
and that he, who as a rule avoided strangers, should on
his own initiative enter into conversation with the two
motorists, was of itself a circumstance that awakened con-
siderable wonder and interest. David Helmsley, sitting
apart in the shadow, could not take his eyes off the gypsy's
face and figure, a kind of fascination impelled him to
watch with strained attention the dark shape, moulded
with such herculean symmetry, which seemed to command
and subdue the very air that gave it force and sustenance.
" His lordship drives his car himself ! " echoed Tom, and
a curious smile parted his lips, showing an almost sinister
gleam of white teeth between his full black moustache and
beard, then, bringing his sombre glance to bear slowly
down on Wrotham's insignificant form, he continued,
" Are you his lordship? "
Wrotham nodded with a careless condescension, and,
lighting a cigar, began to smoke it.
" And you drive your car yourself ! " proceeded Tom,
" you must have good nerve and a keen eye ! "
"Oh well!" And Wrotham laughed airily " Pretty
much so ! but I won't boast ! "
" How many miles an hour? " went on Tom, pursuing his
inquiries with an almost morbid eagerness.
" Forty or fifty, I suppose sometimes more. I always
run at the highest speed. Of course that kind of thing
knocks the motor to pieces rather soon, but one can always
buy another."
" True ! " said Tom. " Very true ! One can always buy
another ! " He paused, and seemed to collect his thoughts
with an effort, then noticing the half-glass of brandy he
had left on the counter, he took it up and drank it all off at
a gulp. " Have you ever had any accidents on the road ? "
" Accidents ? " Lord Wrotham put up an eyeglass. " Ac-
cidents ? What do you mean ? "
" Why, what should I mean except what I say ! " And
Tom gave a sudden loud laugh, a laugh which made
the hostess at the bar start nervously, while many of the
146 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
men seated round the various tables exchanged uneasy
glances. " Accidents are accidents all the world over !
Haven't you ever been thrown out, upset, shaken in body,
broken in bone, or otherwise involved in mischief? "
Lord Wrotham smiled, and let his eyeglass fall with a
click against his top waistcoat button.
" Never ! " he said, taking his cigar from his mouth,
looking at it, and then replacing it with a relish " I'm
too fond of my own life to run any risk of losing it. Other
people's lives don't matter so much, but mine is precious!
Eh, Brookfield?"
Brookfield chuckled himself purple in the face over this
pleasantry, and declared that his lordship's wit grew sharper
with every day of his existence. Meanwhile Tom o' the
Gleam moved a step or two nearer to Wrotham.
" You're a lucky lord ! " he said, and again he laughed
discordantly. " Very lucky ! But you don't mean to tell
me that while you're pounding along at full speed, you've
never upset anything in your way? never knocked down
an old man or woman, never run over a dog, or a
child?"
" Oh, well, if you mean that kind of thing ! " murmured
Wrotham, puffing placidly at his cigar " Of course ! That's
quite common ! We're always running over something or
other, aren't we, Brookie ? "
" Always ! " declared that gentleman pleasantly. " Really
it's half the fun ! "
" Positively it is, don't-cher-know ! " and his lordship
played again with his enamelled pig " But it's not our
fault. If things will get into our way, we can't wait till
they get out. We're bound to ride over them. Do you
remember that old hen, Brookie?"
Brookfield spluttered into a laugh, and nodded in the
affirmative.
'' There it was skipping over the road in front of us in
as great a hurry as ever hen was," went on Wrotham.
" Going back to its family of eggs per express waddle !
Whiz! Pst and all its eggs and waddles were over! By
Jove, how we screamed ! Ha ha ha ! he he he ! "
Lord Wrotham's laugh resembled that laugh peculiar to
" society " folk, the laugh civil-sniggering, which is just
a tone between the sheep's bleat 'and the peewit's cry. But
no one laughed in response, and no one spoke. Some heavy
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 147
spell was in the air like a cloud shadowing a landscape, and
an imaginative onlooker would have been inclined to think
that this imperceptible mystic darkness had come in with
Tom o' the Gleam and was centralising itself round him
alone. Brookfield, seeing that his lordly patron was in-
clined to talk, and that he was evidently anxious to narrate
various " car " incidents, similar to the hen episode, took
up the conversation and led it on.
" It is really quite absurd," he said, " for any one of
common sense to argue that a motorist can, could, or
should pull up every moment for the sake of a few stray
animals, or even people, when they don't seem to know or
care where they are going. Now think of that child to-day !
What an absolute little idiot! Gathering wild thyme and
holding it out to the car going full speed ! No wonder we
knocked it over ! "
The hostess of the inn looked up quickly.
" I hope it was not hurt ? " she said.
" Oh dear no ! " answered Lord Wothram lightly. " It
just fell back and turned a somersault in the grass, evi-
dently enjoying itself. It had a narrow escape though ! "
Tom o' the Gleam stared fixedly at him. Once or twice
he essayed to speak, but no sound came from his twitching
lips. Presently, with an effort, he found his voice.
" Did youdid you stop the car and go back to see
to see if if it was all right ? " he asked, in curiously harsh,
monotonous accents.
" Stop the car? Go back? By Jove, I should think not
indeed ! I'd lost too much time already through taking a
wrong turning. The child was all right enough."
" Are you sure ? " muttered Torn thickly. " Are you
quite sure ? "
" Sure ? " And Wrotham again had recourse to his eye-
glass, which he stuck in one eye, while he fixed his inter-
locutor with a supercilious glance. " Of course I'm sure !
What the devil d' ye take me for? It was a mere beggar's
brat anyhow there are too many of such little wretches
running loose about the roads regular nuisances a few
might be run over with advantage Hullo! What now?
What's the matter? Keep your distance, please!" For
Tom suddenly threw up his clenched fists with an inar-
ticulate cry of rage, and now leaped towards Wrotham in
the attitude of a wild beast springing on its prey. " Hands
148 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
off ! Hands off, I say ! Damn you, leave me alone ! Brook-
field! Here! Some one get a hold of this fellow! He's
mad!"
But before Brookfield or any other man could move to
his assistance, Tom had pounced upon him with all the
fury of a famished tiger.
" God curse you ! " he panted, between the gasps of his
labouring breath " God burn you for ever in Hell ! "
Down on the ground he hurled him, clutching him round
the neck, and choking every attempt at a cry. Then falling
himself in all his huge height, breadth, and weight, upon
Wrotham's prone body he crushed it under and held it be-
neath him, while, with appalling swiftness and vehemence,
he plunged a drawn claspknife deep in his victim's throat,
hacking the flesh from left to right, from right to left with
reckless ferocity, till the blood spurted about him in horrid
crimson jets, and gushed in a dark pool on the floor.
Piercing screams from the women, groans and cries from
the men, filled the air, and the lately peaceful scene was
changed to one of maddening 'confusion. Brookfield rushed
wildly through the open door of the inn into the village
street, yelling : " Help ! Help ! Murder ! Help ! " and in
less than five minutes the place was filled with an excited
crowd. " Tom ! " " Tom o' the Gleam ! " ran in frightened
whispers from mouth to mouth. David Helmsley, giddy
with the sudden shock of terror, rose shuddering from his
place with a vague idea of instant flight in his mind, but
remained standing inert, half paralysed by sheer panic,
while several men surrounded Tom, and dragged him forci-
bly up from the ground where he lay, still grasping his
murdered man. As they wrenched the gypsy's grappling
arms away, Wrotham fell back on the floor, stone dead.
Life had been thrust out of him with the first blow dealt
him by Tom's clasp-knife, which had been aimed at his
throat as a butcher aims at the throat of a swine. His
bleeding corpse presented a frightful spectacle, the head
being nearly severed from the body.
Brookfield, shaking all over, turned his back upon the
awful sight, and kept on running to and fro and up and
down the street, clamouring like a madman for the police.
Two sturdy constables presently came, their appearance re-
storing something like order. To them Tom o' the Gleam
advanced, extending his blood-stained hands.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 149
* I am ready ! " he said, in a quiet voice. " I am the
murderer ! "
They looked at him. Then, by way of precaution, one
of them clasped a pair of manacles on his wrists. The
other, turning his eyes to the corpse on the floor, recoiled
in horror.
" Throw something over it ! " he commanded.
He was obeyed, and the dreadful remains of what had
once been human, were quickly shrouded from view.
" How did this happen ? " was the next question put by
the officer of the law who had already spoken, opening his
notebook.
A chorus of eager tongues answered him, Brookfield's
excited explanation echoing above them all. His dear friend,
his great, noble, good friend had been brutally murdered ! His
friend was Lord Wrotham, of Wrotham Hall, Blankshire!
A break-down had occurred within half a mile of Blue
Anchor, and Lord Wrotham had taken rooms at the pres-
ent inn for the night. His lordship had condescended
to enter into a friendly conversation with the ruffian now
under arrest, who, without the slightest cause or provoca-
tion whatsoever, had suddenly attacked and overthrown his
lordship, and plunged a knife into his lordship's throat!
He himself was James Brookfield, proprietor of the Daily
Post-Bag, the Pictorial Pie, and the Illustrated Invoice, and
he should make this outrageous, this awful crime a warning
to mortorists throughout the world ! "
" That will do, thank you," said the officer briefly then
he gave a sharp glance around him " Where's the land-
lady?"
She had fled in terror from the scene, and some one went
in search of her, returning with the poor woman and her
two daughters, all of them deathly pale and shivering with
dread.
" Don't be frightened, mother ! " said one of the constables
kindly " No harm will come to you. Just tell us what you
saw of this affair that's all."
Whereat the poor hostess, her narrative interrupted by
tears, explained that Tom o' the Gleam was a frequent
customer of hers, and that she had never thought badly of
him.
" He was a bit excited to-night, but he wasn't drunk,"
she said. " He told me he was ill, and asked for a glass
150 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
of brandy. He looked as if he were in great pain, and I
gave him the brandy at once and asked him to step inside
the bar. But he wouldn't do that, he just stood talking
with the gentlemen about motoring, and then something
was said about a child being knocked over by the motor,
and all of a sudden "
Here her voice broke, and she sank on a seat half swoon-
ing, while Elizabeth, her eldest girl, finished the story in
low, trembling tones. Tom o' the Gleam meanwhile stood
rigidly upright and silent. To him the chief officer of the
law finally turned.
" Will you jcome with us quietly ? " he asked, " or do you
mean to give us trouble ? "
Tom lifted his dark eyes.
" I shall give no man any more trouble," he answered.
" I shall go nowhere save where I am taken. You need fear
nothing from me now. But I must speak."
The officer frowned warningly.
" You'd better not ! " he said.
" I must ! " repeated Tom. " You think, all of you,
that I had no cause no provocation to kill the man who
lies there " and he turned a fierce glance upon the covered
corpse, from which a dark stream of blood was trickling
slowly along the floor " I swear before God that I had
cause! and that my cause was just! I had provocation!
the bitterest and worst! That man was a murderer as
surely as I am. Look yonder ! " And lifting his manacled
hands he extended them towards the bench where lay the
bundle covered with horse-cloth, which he had carried in
his arms and set down when he had first entered the inn.
" Look, I say ! and then tell me I had no cause ! "
With an uneasy glance one of the officers went up to
the spot indicated, and hurriedly, yet fearfully, lifted the
horse-cloth and looked under it. Then uttering an exclama-
tion of horror and pity, he drew away the covering alto-
gether, and disclosed to view the dead body of a child,
a little curly-headed lad, lying as if it were asleep, a smile
on its pretty mouth, and a bunch of wild thyme clasped in
the clenched fingers of its small right hand.
"My God! It's Kiddie!"
The exclamation was uttered almost simultaneously by
every one in the room, and the girl Elizabeth sprang
forward.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 151
" Oh, not Kiddie ! " she cried" Oh, surely not Kiddie !
Oh, the poor little darling ! the pretty little man ! "
And she fell on her knees beside the tiny corpse and
gave way to a wild fit of weeping.
There was an awful silence, broken only by her sobbing.
Men turned away and covered their eyes Brookfield edged
himself stealthily through the little crowd and sneaked out
into the open air and the officers of the law stood inactive.
Helmsley felt the room whirling about him in a sickening
blackness, and sat down to steady himself, the stinging tears
rising involuntarily in his throat and almost choking him.
" Oh, Kiddie ! " wailed Elizabeth again, looking up in
plaintive appeal " Oh, mother, mother, see ! Grace come
here ! Kiddie's dead ! The poor innocent little child ! "
They came at her call, and knelt with her, crying bitterly,
and smoothing back with tender hands the thickly tangled
dark curls of the smiling dead thing, with the fragrance
of wild thyme clinging about it, as though it were a broken
flower torn from the woods where it had blossomed. Tom
o' the Gleam watched them, and his broad chest heaved
with a sudden gasping sigh.
" You all know now," he said slowly, staring with strained
piteous eyes at the little lifeless body " you understand,
the motor killed my Kiddie ! He was playing on the road
I was close by among the trees I saw the cursed car com-
ing full speed downhill I rushed to take the boy, but was
too late he cried once and then silence! All the laugh-
ter gone out of him all the life and love " He paused
with a shudder. " I carried him all the way, and followed
the car," he went on " I would have followed it to the
world's end! I ran by a short cut down near the sea,
and then I saw the thing break down. I thanked God
for that! I tracked the murderers here, I meant to kill
the man who killed my child ! and I have done it ! " He
paused again. Then he held out his hands and looked at
the constable.
" May I before I go take him in my arms and kiss
him ? " he asked.
The chief officer nodded. He could not speak, but he
unfastened Tom's manacles and threw them on the floor.
Then Tom himself moved feebly and unsteadily to where
the women knelt beside his dead child. They rose as he
approached, but did not turn away.
152 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" You have hearts, you women ! " he said faintly. " You
know what it is to love a child! And Kiddie, Kiddie
was such a happy little fellow! so strong and hearty!
so full of life ! And now now he's stiff and cold ! Only
this morning he was jumping and laughing in my arms "
He broke off, trembling violently, then with an effort he
raised his head and turned his eyes with a wild stare upon
all around him. " We are only poor folk ! " he went on, in
a firmer voice. " Only gypsies, tinkers, road-menders, la-
bourers, and the like ! We cannot fight against the rich
who ride us down ! There's no law for us, because we can't
pay for it. We can't fee the counsel or dine the judge !
The rich can pay. They can trample us down under their
devilish motor-cars, and obliging juries will declare our
wrongs and injuries and deaths to be mere ' accident ' or
* misadventure ' ! But if they can kill, by God ! so can
we! And if the law lets them off for murdering our 'chil-
dren, we must take the law into our own hands and murder
them in turn ay ! even if we swing for it ! "
No one spoke. The women still sobbed convulsively, but
otherwise there was a great silence. Tom o' the Gleam
stretched forth his hands with an eloquent gesture of
passion.
" Look at him lying there ! " he cried " Only a child
a little child ! So pretty and playful ! all his joy was
in the birds and flowers ! The robins knew him and would
perch on his shoulder, he would call to the cuckoo, he
would race the swallow, he would lie in the grass and
sing with the skylark and talk to the daisies. He was happy
with the simplest things and when we put him to bed in
his little hammock under the trees, he would smile up at
the stars and say : ' Mother's up there ! Good-night,
mother ! ' Oh, the lonely trees, and the empty hammock !
Oh, my lad ! my little pretty lad ! Murdered ! Murdered !
Gone from me for ever ! For ever ! God ! God ! "
Reeling heavily forward, he sank in a crouching heap
beside the child's dead body and snatched it into his embrace,
kissing the littfe cold lips and cheeks and eyelids again and
again, and pressing it with frantic fervour against his
breast.
" The dark hour! " he muttered" the dark hour! To-
day when I came away over the moors I felt it creeping
upon me! Last night it whispered to me, and I felt its
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 153
cold breath hissing against my ears! When I climbed
down the rocks to the sea-shore, I heard it wailing in the
waves! and through the hollows of the rocks it shrieked
an unknown horror at me ! Who was it that said to-day
* He is only a child after all, and he might be taken from
you'? I remember! it was Miss Tranter who spoke and
she was sorry afterwards ah, yes ! she was sorry ! but
it was the spirit of the hour that moved her to the utterance
of a warning she could not help herself, and I I should
have been more careful ! I should not have left my little
one for a moment, but I never thought any harm could
come to him no, never to him! I was always sure God
was too good for that ! "
Moaning drearily, he rocked the dead boy to and fro.
" Kiddie my Kiddie ! " he murmured " Little one with
my love's eyes ! heart's darling with my love's face ! Don't
go to sleep, Kiddie! not just yet! wake up and kiss me
once ! only once again, Kiddie ! "
" Oh, Tom ! " sobbed Elizabeth," Oh, poor, poor Tom ! "
At the sound of her voice he raised his head and looked
up at her. There was a strange expression on his face,
a fixed and terrible stare in his eyes. Suddenly he broke
into a wild laugh.
" Ha-ha ! " he cried. " Poor Tom ! Tom o' the Gleam !
That's me ! the me that was not always me ! Not always
me no ! not always Tom o' the Gleam ! It was a bold
life I led in the woods long ago! a life full of sunshine
and laughter a life for a man with man's blood in his
veins ! Away out in the land that once was old Provence,
we jested and sang the hours away, the women with their
guitars and mandolines the men with their wild dances and
tambourines, and love was the keynote of the music
love ! always love ! Love in the sunshine ! love under the
moonbeams! bright eyes in which to drown one's soul,
red lips on which to crush one's heart! Ah, God! such
days when we were young !
'Ah! Craignons de perdre un seul jour,
De la belle saison de 1'amour ! ' '
He sang these lines in a rich baritone, clear and thrilling
with passion, and the men grouped about him, not under-
standing what he sang, glanced at one another with an
154 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
uneasy sense of fear. All at once he struggled to his feet
without assistance, and stood upright, still clasping the
body of his child in his arms.
" Come, come ! " he said thickly " It's time we were off,
Kiddie ! We must get across the moor and into camp. It's
time for all lambs to be in the fold; time to go to bed,
my little lad! Good-night, mates! Good-night! I know
you all, and you all know me you like fair play! Fair
play all round, eh? Not one law for the rich and another
for the poor ! Even justice, boys ! Justice ! Justice ! "
Here his voice broke in a great and awful cry, blood
sprang from his lips his face grew darkly purple, and
like a huge tree snapped asunder by a storm, he reeled
heavily to the ground. One of the constables caught him as
he fell.
" Hold up, Tom ! " he said tremulously, the thick tears
standing in his eyes. " Don't give way ! Be a man ! Hold
up ! Steady ! Here, let me take the poor Kiddie ! "
For a ghastly pallor was stealing over Tom's features,
and his lips were widely parted in a gasping struggle for
breath.
" No no ! don't take my boy ! " he muttered feebly.
" Let me keep him with me ! God is good good after
all ! we shall not be parted ! "
A strong convulsion shook his sinewy frame from head
to foot, and he writhed in desperate agony. The officer put
an arm under his head, and made an expressive sign to the
awed witnesses of the scene. Helmsley, startled at this,
came hurriedly forward, trembling and scarcely able to speak
in the extremity of his fear and pity.
" What what is it? " he stammered. " Not not ? "
" Death ! That's what it is ! " said the officer, gently.
" His heart's broken ! "
One rough fellow here pushed his way to the side of
the fallen man, it was the cattle-driver who had taken
part in the previous conversation among the customers at
the inn before the occurrence of the tragedy. He knelt
down, sobbing like a child.
" Tom ! " he faltered, " Tom, old chap ! Hearten up a
bit ! Don't leave us ! There's not one of us as'll think ill
of ye ! no, not if the law was to shut ye up for life ! You
was allus good to us poor folk an' poor folk aint as forgit-
tin' o' kindness as rich. Stay an' help us along, Tom ! you
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 155
was allus brave an' strong an' hearty an' there's many
of us wantin' comfort an' cheer, eh Tom ? "
Tom's splendid dark eyes opened, and a smile, very wan
and wistful, gleamed across his lips.
" Is that you, Jim ? " he muttered feebly. " It's all dark
and cold ! I can't see ! there'll be a frost to-night, and the
lambs must be watched a bit I'm afraid I can't help you,
Jim not to-night! Wanting comfort, did you say? Ay!
plenty wanting that, but I'm past giving it, my boy!
I'm done."
He drew a struggling breath with pain and difficulty.
" You see, Jim, I've killed a man ! " he went on, gaspingly
" And and I've no money we all share and share
alike in camp it won't be worth any one's while to find
excuses for me. They'd shut me up in prison if I lived
but now God's my judge! And He's merciful He's
giving me my liberty ! "
His eyelids fell wearily, and a shadow, dark at first, and
then lightening into an ivory pallor, began to cover his
features like a fine mask, at sight of which the girls, Eliza-
beth and Grace, with their mother, knelt down and hid
their faces. Every one in the room knelt too, and there
was a profound stillness. Tom's breathing grew heavier
and more laboured, once they made an attempt to lift the
weight of his child's dead body from his breast, but his
hands were clenched upon it convulsively and they could
not loosen his hold. All at once Elizabeth lifted her head
and prayed aloud
" O God, have mercy on our poor friend Tom, and help
him through the Valley of the Shadow! Grant him Thy
forgiveness for all his sins, and let him find " here she
broke down and sobbed pitifully, then between her tears
she finished her petition " Let him find his little child with
Thee!"
A low and solemn " Amen " was the response to her
prayer from all present, and suddenly Tom opened his eyes
with a surprised bright look.
" Is Kiddie all right? " he asked.
" Yes, Tom ! " It was Elizabeth who answered, bend-
ing over him " Kiddie's all right ! He's fast asleep in your
arms."
" So he is ! " And the brilliancy in Tom's eyes grew still
more radiant, while with one hand he caressed the thick
156 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
dark curls that clustered on the head of his dead boy
" Poor little chap ! Tired out, and so am I ! It's very cold,
surely ! "
" Yes, Tom, it is. Very cold ! "
" I thought so ! I I must keep the child warm. They'll
be worried in camp over all this Kiddie never stays out
so late. He's such a little fellow only four ! and he goes
to bed early always. And when when he's asleep why
then then the day's over for me, and night begins
night begins ! "
The smile lingered on his lips, and settled there at last
in coldest gravity, the fine mask of death covered his
features with an impenetrable waxen stillness all was over !
Tom o' the Gleam had gone with his slain child, and the
victim he had sacrificed to his revenge, into the presence
of that Supreme Recorder who chronicles all deeds both good
and evil, and who, in the character of Divine Justice, may,
perchance, find that the sheer brutal selfishness of the mod-
ern social world is more utterly to be condemned, and more
criminal even than murder.
CHAPTER XI
SICK at heart, and utterly overcome by the sudden and
awful tragedy to which he had been an enforced silent wit-
ness, David Helmsley had now but one idea, and that was
at once to leave the scene of horror which, like a ghastly
nightmare, scared his vision and dizzied his brain. Stum-
bling feebly along, and seeming to those who by chance
noticed him, no more than a poor old tramp terrified out
of his wits by the grief and confusion which prevailed, he
made his way gradually through the crowd now pressing
closely round the dead, and went forth into the village street.
He held the little dog Charlie nestled under his coat, where
he had kept it hidden all the evening, the tiny creature was
shivering violently with that strange consciousness of the
atmosphere of death which is instinctive to so many animals,
and a vague wish to soothe its fears helped him for the
moment to forget his own feelings. He would not trust
himself to look again at Tom o' the Gleam, stretched life-
less on the ground with his slaughtered child clasped in
his arms; he could not speak to any one of the terrified
people. He heard the constables giving hurried orders for
the removal of the bodies, and he saw two more police
officers arrive and go into the stable-yard of the inn, there
to take the number of the motor-car and write down the
full deposition of that potentate of the pictorial press, James
Brookfield. And he knew, without any explanation, that
the whole affair would probably be served up the next day
in the cheaper newspapers as a " sensational " crime, so
worded as to lay all the blame on Tom o' the Gleam, and to
exonerate the act, and deplore the violent death of the
" lordly " brute who, out of his selfish and wicked reckless-
ness, had snatched away the life of an only child from its
father without care or compunction. But it was the fearful
swiftness of the catastrophe that affected Helmsley most,
that, and what seemed to him, the needless cruelty of
fate. Only last night he had seen Tom o' the Gleam for
the first time only last night he had admired the physical
symmetry and grace of the man, his handsome head, his
157
158 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
rich voice, and the curious refinement, suggestive of some
past culture and education, which gave such a charm to
his manner, only last night he had experienced that little
proof of human sympathy and kindliness which had shown
itself in the gift of the few coins which Tom had collected
and placed on his pillow, only last night he had been
touched by the herculean fellow's tenderness for his little
" Kiddie," and now, within the space of twenty-four
hours, both father and child had gone out of life at a rush
as fierce and relentless as the speed of the motor-car which
had crushed a world of happiness under its merciless wheels.
Was it right was it just that such things should be? Could
one believe in the goodness of God, in such a world of
wanton wickedness? Moving along in a blind haze of be-
wilderment, Helmsley's thoughts were all disordered and
his mind "in a whirl, what consciousness he had left to him
was centred in an effort to get away away! far away
from the scene of murder and death, away from the scent
and trail of blood which seemed to infect and poison the
very air!
It was a calm and lovely night. The moon rode high,
and there was a soft wind blowing in from the sea. Out
over the waste of heaving water, where the moon-beams
turned the small rippling waves to the resemblance of netted
links of silver or steel, the horizon stretched sharply clear
and definite, like a line drawn under the finished chapter
of vision. There was a gentle murmur of the inflowing
tide among the loose stones and pebbles fringing the beach,
but to Helmsley's ears it sounded like the miserable moan-
ing of a broken heart, the wail of a sorrowful spirit in
torture. He went on and on, with no very distinct idea
of where he was going, he simply continued to walk
automatically like one in a dream. He did not know the
time, but guessed it must be somewhere about midnight.
The road was quite deserted, and its loneliness was to him,
in his present overwrought condition, appalling. Desolation
seemed to involve the whole earth in gloom, the trees
stood out in the white shine of the moon like dark shrouded
ghosts waving their cerements to and fro, the fields and
hills on either side of him were bare and solitary, and the
gleam of the ocean was cold and cheerless as a " Dead
Man's Pool." Slowly he plodded along, with a thousand
disjointed fragments of thought and memory teasing his
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 159
brain, all part and parcel of his recent experiences, he
seemed to have lived through a whole history of strange
events since the herb-gatherer, Matt Peke, had befriended
him on the road, and the most curious impression of all
was that he had somehow lost his own identity for ever. It
was impossible and ridiculous to think of himself as David
Helmsley, the millionaire, there was, there could be no
such person! David Helmsley, the real David Helms-
ley, was very old, very tired, very poor, there was noth-
ing left for him in this world save death. He had no chil-
dren, no friends, no one who cared for him or who wanted
to know what had become of him. He was absolutely
alone, and in the hush of the summer night he fancied
that the very moon looked down upon him with a chill stare
as though wondering why he burdened the earth with his
presence when it was surely time for him to die !
It was not till he found that he was leaving the shore line,
and that one or two gas lamps twinkled faintly ahead of
him, that he realized he was entering the outskirts of a
small town. Pausing a moment, he looked about him. A
high- walled castle, majestically enthroned on a steep wooded
height, was the first object that met his view, every line of
its frowning battlements and turrets was seen clearly
against the sky as though etched out on a dark background
with a pencil of light. A sign-post at the corner of a wind-
ing road gave the direction " To Dunster Castle." Read-
ing this by the glimmer of the moon, Helmsley stood ir-
resolute for a minute or so, and then resumed his tramp,
proceeding through the streets of what he knew must be
Dunster itself. He had no intention of stopping in the
town, an inward nervousness pushed him on, on, in spite
of fatigue, and Dunster was not far enough away from
Blue Anchor to satisfy him. The scene of Tom o' the
Gleam's revenge and death surrounded him with a horrible
environment, an atmosphere from which he sought to free
himself by sheer distance, and he resolved to walk till morn-
ing rather than remain anywhere near the place which was
now associated in his mind with one of the darkest episodes
of human guilt and suffering that he had ever known.
Passing by the old inn known as " The Luttrell Arms," now
fast closed for the night, a policeman on his beat stopped in
his marching to and fro, and spoke to him.
"Hillo! Which way do you come from?"
160 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" From Watchett"
" Oh ! We've just had news of a murder up at Blue
Anchor. Have you heard anything of it ? "
" Yes." And Helmsley looked his questioner squarely in
the face. " It's a terrible business ! But the murderer's
caught ! "
" Caught is he ? Who's got him ? "
" Death ! " And Helmsley, lifting his cap, stood bare-
headed in the moonlight. " He'll never escape again ! "
The constable looked amazed and a little awed.
" Death ? Why, I heard it was that wild gypsy, Tom o'
the Gleam "
" So it was," said Helmsley, gently, " and Tom o' the
Gleam is dead ! "
" No ! Don't say that ! " ejaculated the constable with
real concern. " There's a lot of good in Tom ! I shouldn't
like to think he's gone ! "
" You'll find it's true," said Helmsley. "And perhaps,
when you get all the details, you'll think it for the best.
Good-night ! "
"Are you staying in Dunster? " queried the officer with a
keen glance.
" No. I'm moving on." And Helmsley 'smiled wearily
as he again said " Good-night ! "
He walked steadily, though slowly, through the sleeping
town, and passed out of it. Ascending a winding bit of road
he found himself once more in the open country, and pres-
ently came to a field where part of the fence had been broken
through by the cattle. Just behind the damaged palings
there was a covered shed, open in front, with a few bundles
of straw packed within it. This place suggested itself as a
fairly comfortable shelter for an hour's rest, and becoming
conscious of the intense aching of his limbs, he took posses-
sion of it, setting the small " Charlie " down to gambol on
the grass at pleasure. He was far more tired than he knew,
and remembering the " yerb wine " which Matt Peke had
provided him with, he took a long draught of it, grateful for
its reviving warmth and tonic power. Then, half-dreamily,
he watched the little dog whom he had rescued and be-
friended, and presently found himself vaguely entertained
by the graceful antics of the tiny creature which, despite its
wounded paw, capered limpingly after its own shadow flung
by the moonlight on the greensward, and attempted in its
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 161
own playful way to attract the attention of its new master
and wile him away from his mood of utter misery. Involun-
tarily he thought of the frenzied cry of Shakespeare's
" Lear " over the dead body of Cordelia :
" What ! Shall a dog, a horse, a rat, have life
And thou no breath at all ! "
What curious caprice of destiny was it that saved the life
of a dog, yet robbed a father of his child ? Who could ex-
plain it? Why should a happy innocent little lad like Tom
o' the Gleam's " Kiddie " have been hurled out of existence
in a moment as it were by the mad speed of a motor's
wheels, and a fragile " toy " terrier, the mere whim of dog-
breeders and plaything for fanciful women, be plucked from
starvation and death as though the great forces of creation
deemed it more worth cherishing than a human being ! For
the murder of Lord Wrotham, Helmsley found excuse, for
the death of Tom there was ample natural cause, but for
the wanton killing of a little child no reason could justly be
assigned. Propping his elbows on his knees, and resting
his aching head on his hands, he thought and thought, till
Thought became almost as a fire in his brain. What was
the use of life? he asked himself. What definite plan or
object could there possibly be in the perpetuation of the
human race?
" To pace the same dull round
On each recurring day,
For seventy years or more
Till strength and hope decay,
To trust, and be deceived,
And standing, fear to fall !
To find no resting-place
Can this be all? "
Beginning with hope and eagerness, and having confidence
In the good faith of his fellow-men, had he not himself
fought a hard fight in the world, setting before him a cer-
tain goal, a goal which he had won and passed, to what
purpose? In youth he had been very poor, and poverty
had served him as a spur to ambition. In middle life he
had become one of the richest men in the world. He had
done all that rich and ambitious men set themselves out to
do. He might have said with the Preacher:
" Whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not from them,
I withheld not my heart from any joy, for my heart rejoiced
in all my labour, and this was my portion of all my labour.
Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought,
and on the labour that I had laboured to do, and behold, all
was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit
under the sun."
He had loved, or rather, he had imagined he loved,
he had married, and his wife had dishonoured him. Sons
had been born to him, who, with their mother's treacherous
blood in their veins, had brought him to shame by their con-
duct, and now all the kith and kin he had sought to sur-
round himself with were dead, and he was alone as alone
as he had ever been at the very commencement of his career.
Had his long life of toil led him only to this? With a sense
of dull disappointment, his mind reverted to the plan he had
half entertained of benefiting Tom o' the Gleam in some way
and making him happy by prospering the fortunes of the
child he loved so well, though he was fully aware that
perhaps he could not have done much in that direction, as
it was more than likely that Tom would have resented the
slightest hint of a rich man's patronage. Death, however,
in its fiercest shape, had now put an abrupt end to any such
benevolent scheme, whether or not it might have been feasi-
ble, and, absorbed in a kind of lethargic reverie, he again
and again asked himself what use he was in the world?
what could he do with the brief remaining portion of his
life? and how he could dispose, to his own satisfaction, of
the vast wealth which, like a huge golden mill-stone, hung
round his neck, dragging him down to the grave? Such
poor people as he had met with during his tramp seemed
fairly contented with their lot ; he, at any rate, had heard no
complaints of poverty from them. On the contrary, they had
shown an independence of thought and freedom of life which
was wholly incompatible with the mere desire of money.
He could put a five-pound note in an envelope and post it
anonymously to Matt Peke at the " Trusty Man " as a slight
return for his kindness, but he was quite sure that though
Matt might be pleased enough with the money he would
equally be puzzled, and not entirely satisfied in his mind as
to whether he was doing right to accept and use it. It
would probably be put in a savings bank for a " rainy day."
" It is the hardest thing in the world to do good with
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 163
money ! " he mused, sorrowfully. " Of course if I were to
say this to the unthinking majority, they would gape upon
me and exclaim ' Hard to do good ! Why, there's nothing
so easy ! There are thousands of poor, there are the hos-
pitals the churches ! ' True, but the thousands of real
poor are not so easily found ! There are thousands, ay, mil-
lions of ' sham ' poor. But the real poor, who never ask
for anything, who would not know how to write a beg-
ging letter, and who would shrink from writing it even if
they did know who starve patiently, suffer uncomplain-
ingly, and die resignedly these are as difficult to meet with
as diamonds in a coal mine. As for hospitals, do I not know
how many of them pander to the barbarous inhumanity of
vivisection ! and have I not experienced to the utmost dregs
of bitterness, the melting of cash through the hands of secre-
taries and under-secretaries, and general Committee-ism,
and Red Tape-ism, while every hundred thousand pounds
bestowed on these necessary institutions turns out in the end
to be a mere drop in the sea of incessant demand, though the
donors may possibly purchase a knighthood, a baronetcy, or
even a peerage, in return for their gifts ! And the churches !
my God! as Madame Roland said of Liberty, what
crimes are committed in Thy Name ! "
He looked up at the sky through the square opening of
the shed, and saw the moon, now changed in appearance
and surrounded by a curious luminous halo like the nimbus
with which painters encircle the head of a saint. It was a
delicate aureole of prismatic radiance, and seemed to have
swept suddenly round the silver planet in companionship
with a light mist from the sea, a mist which was now creep-
ing slowly upwards and covering the land with a glistening
wetness as of dew. A few fleecy clouds, pale grey and
white, were floating aloft in the western half of the heavens,
evoked by some magic touch of the wind.
" It will soon be morning," thought Helmsley " The
sun will rise in its same old glorious way with as measured
and monotonous a circuit as it has made from the beginning.
The Garden of Eden, the Deluge, the building of the
Pyramids, the rise and fall of Rome, the conquests of Alex-
ander, the death of Socrates, the murder of Caesar, the
Crucifixion of Christ, the sun has shone on all these things
of beauty, triumph or horror with the same even radiance,
always the generator of life and fruitfulness, itself indiffer-
164 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ent as to what becomes of the atoms germinated under its
prolific heat and vitality. The sun takes no heed whether
a man dies or lives neither does God ! "
Yet with this idea came a sudden revulsion. Surely in
the history of human events, there was ample proof that
God, or the invisible Power we call by that name, did care ?
Crime was, and is, always followed by punishment, sooner
or later. Who ordained, who ordains that this shall be?
Who is it that distinguishes between Right and Wrong, and
adjusts the balance accordingly? Not Man, for Man in a
barbarous state is often incapable of understanding moral
law, till he is trained to it by the evolution of his being and
the ever-progressive working of the unseen spiritual forces.
And the first process of his evolution is the awakening of
conscience, and the struggle to rise from his mere Self to a
higher ideal of life, from material needs to intellectual de-
velopment. Why is he thus invariably moved towards this
higher ideal? If the instinct were a mistaken one, fore-
doomed to disappointment, it would not be allowed to exist.
Nature does not endow us with any sense of which we do
not stand in need, or any attribute which is useless to us in
the shaping and unfolding of our destinies. True it is that
we see many a man and woman who appear to have no souls,
but we dare not infer from these exceptions that the soul
does not exist. Soulless beings simply have no need of
spirituality, just as the night-owl has no need of the sun,
they are bodies merely, and as bodies perish. As the angel
said to the prophet Esdras : " The Most High hath made
this world for many, but the world to come for few. I
will tell thee a similitude, Esdras ; As when thou askest the
earth, it shall say unto thee that it giveth much mould
whereof earthern vessels are made, but little dust that gold
cometh of, even so is the course of this present world ! "
Weary of arguing with himself, Helmsley tried to reflect
back on certain incidents of his youth, which now in his
age came out like prominent pictures in the gallery of his
brain. He remembered the pure and simple piety which
distinguished his mother, who lived her life out as sweetly as
a flower blooms, thanking God every morning and night
for His goodness to her, even at times when she was most
sorrowful, he thought of his little sister, dead in the spring-
time of her girlhood, who never had a doubt of the unfailing
goodness and beneficence of her Creator, and who, when
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 165
dying, smiled radiantly, and whispered with her last breath,
" I wish you would not cry for me, Davie dear ! the next
world is so beautiful ! " Was this " next world " in her
imagination, or was it a fact ? Materialists would, of course,
say it was imagination. .But, in the light of present-day
science and discovery, who can pin one's faith on
Materialism ?
" I have missed the talisman that would have made all
the darkness of life clear to me," he said at last, half aloud ;
" and missing it, I have missed everything of real value.
Pain, loss, old age, and death would have been nothing to
me, if I had only won that magic glory of the world
Love!"
His eyes again wandered to the sky, and he noticed that
the grey-and-white clouds in the west were rising still higher
in fleecy pyramids, and were spreading with a wool-like
thickness gradually over the whole heavens. The wind,
too, had grown stronger, and its sighing sound had changed
to a more strenuous moaning. The little dog, Charlie, tired
of its master's gloomy absorption, jumped on his knee, and
intimated by eloquent looks and wagging tail a readiness to
be again nestled into some cosy corner. The shed was warm
and comfortable, and after some brief consideration, he de-
cided to try and sleep for an hour or so before again start-
ing on his way. With this object in view, he arranged the
packages of straw which filled one side of the shed into the
form of an extemporary couch, which proved comfortable
enough when he lay down with Charlie curled up beside him.
He could not help thinking of the previous night, when he
had seen the tall figure of Tom o' the Gleam approaching
his bedside at the " Trusty Man," with the little " surprise "
gift he had so stealthily laid upon his pillow, and it was
difficult to realise or to believe that the warm, impulsive
heart had ceased to beat, and that all that splendid manhood
was now but lifeless clay. He 'tried not to see the horribly
haunting vision of the murdered Wrotham, with that ter-
rible gash in his throat, and the blood pouring from it, he
strove to forget the pitiful picture of the little dead " Kiddie "
in the arms of its maddened and broken-hearted father but
the impression was too recent and too ghastly for forgetful-
ness.
"And yet with it all," he mused, " Tom o' the Gleam had
what I have never possessed love ! And perhaps it is bet-
166 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ter to die even in the awful way he died in the very
strength and frenzy of love rather than live loveless ! "
Here Charlie heaved a small sigh, and nestled a soft silky
head close against his breast. " I love you ! " the little crea-
ture seemed to say " I am only a dog but I want to com-
fort you if I can ! " And he murmured " Poor Charlie !
Poor wee Charlie ! " and, patting the flossy coat of his
foundling, was conscious of a certain consolation in the
mere companionship of an animal that trusted to him for
protection.
Presently he 'closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His brain
was somewhat confused, and scraps of old songs and verses
he had known in boyhood, were jumbled together without
cause or sequence, varying in their turn with the events o
his business, his financial " deals " and the general results
of his life's work. He remembered quite suddenly and for
no particular reason, a battle he had engaged in with cer-
tain directors of a company who had attempted to " better "
him in a particularly important international trade transac-
tion, and he recalled his own sweeping victory over them
with a curious sense of disgust. What did it matter now ?
whether he had so many extra millions, or so many more
degrees of power? Certain lines of Tennyson's seemed to
contain greater truths than all the money-markets of the
world ould supply :
" O let the solid earth
Not fail beneath my feet,
Before my life has found
What some have found so sweet ;
Then let come what come may,
What matter if I go mad,
I shall have had my day!
" Let the sweet heavens endure
Not close and darken above me,
Before I am quite, quite sure
That there is one to love me ;
Then let come what come may
To a life that has been so sad,
I shall have had my day ! "
He murmured this last verse over and over again till
it made mere monotony in his mind, and till at last ex-
hausted nature had its way and lulled his senses into a pro-
found slumber. Strange to say, as soon as he was fast
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 167
asleep, Charlie woke up. Perking his little ears sharply, he
sat briskly erect on his tiny haunches, his forepaws well
placed on his master's breast, his bright eyes watchfully
fixed on the opening of the shed, and his whole attitude
expressing that he considered himself " on guard." It was
evident that had the least human footfall broken the still-
ness, he would have made the air ring with as much noise
as he was capable of. He had a vibrating bark of his own,
worthy of a much larger animal, and he appeared to be
anxiously waiting for an opportunity to show off this special
accomplishment. No such chance, however, offered itself;
the minutes and hours went by in undisturbed order. Now
and then a rabbit scampered across the field, or an owl flew
through the trees with a plaintive cry, otherwise, so far as
the immediate surroundings of the visible land were con-
cerned, everything was perfectly calm. But up in the sky
there were signs of gathering trouble. The clouds had
formed into woollier masses, their grey had changed to
black, their white to grey, and the moon, half hidden, ap-
peared to be hurrying downward to the west in a flying scud
of etheric foam. Some disturbance was brewing in the
higher altitudes of air, and a low snarling murmur from
the sea responded to what was, perchance, the outward gust
of a fire-tempest in the sun. The small Charlie was, no
doubt, quite ignorant of meteorological portents, neverthe-
less he kept himself wide awake, sniffing at empty space in
a highly suspicious manner, his tiny black nose moist with
aggressive excitement, and his whole miniature being pre-
pared to make " much ado about nothing " on the smallest
provocation.
The morning broke sullenly, in a dull haze, though here
and there pale patches of blue, and flushes of rose-pink,
showed how fair the day would willingly have made itself,
had only the elements been propitious. Helmsley slept well
on through the gradual unfolding of the dawn, and it was
fully seven o'clock when he awoke with a start, scarcely
knowing where he was. Charlie hailed his return to con-
sciousness with marked enthusiasm, and dropping the sentry
" Who goes there?" attitude, gambolled about him delight-
edly. Presently remembering his environment and the
events which were a part of it, he quickly aroused himself,
and carefully packing up all the bundles of straw in the
shed, exactly as he had found them, he again went forth upon
168 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
what he was disposed to consider now a penitential pil-
grimage.
" In old times," he said to himself, as he bathed his face
and hands in a little running stream by the roadside
" kings, when they found themselves miserable and did not
know why they were so, went to the church for consolation,
and were told by the priests that they had sinned and that
it was their sins that made them wretched. And a journey
taken with fasting was prescribed much in the way that our
fashionable physicians prescribe change of air, a limited diet
and plenty of exercise to the luxurious feeders of our social
hive. And the weary potentates took off their crowns and
their royal robes, and trudged along as they were told be-
came tramps for the nonce, like me. But I need no priest
to command what I myself ordain ! "
He resumed his onward way ploddingly and determinedly,
though he was beginning to be conscious of an increas-
ing weariness and lassitude which seemed to threaten him
with a break-down ere long. But he would not think of
this.
" Other men have no doubt felt just as weak," he thought.
" There are many on the road as old as I am and even
older. I ought to be able to do of my own choice what
others do from necessity. And if the worst comes to the
worst, and I am compelled to give up my project, I can
always get back to London in a few hours ! "
He was soon at Minehead, and found that quaint little
watering-place fully astir; for so far as it could have a
" season," that season was now on. A considerable number
of tourists were about, and coaches and brakes were getting
ready in the streets for those who were inclined to under-
take the twenty miles drive from Minehead to Lynton. See-
ing a baker's shop open he went in and asked the cheery-
looking woman behind the counter if she would make him
a cup of coffee, and let him have a saucer of milk for his
little dog. She consented willingly, and showed him a little
inner room, where she spread a clean white cloth on the
table and asked him to sit down. He looked at her in some
surprise.
" I'm only ' on the road/ " he said " Don't put yourself
out too much for me."
She smiled.
" You'll pay for what you've ordered, I suppose ? "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 169
"Certainly!"
" Then you'll get just what everybody gets for their
money," and her smile broadened kindly " We don't make
any difference between poor and rich."
She retired, and he dropped into a chair, wearily. " We
don't make any difference between poor and rich ! " said
this simple woman. How very simple she was! No dif-
ference between poor and rich ! Where would " society "
be if this axiom were followed ! He almost laughed to think
of it. A girl came in and brought his coffee with a plate of
fresh bread-and-butter, a dish of Devonshire cream, a pot
of jam, and a small round basket full of rosy apples, also
a saucer of milk which she set down on the floor for Charlie,
patting him kindly as she did so, with many admiring com-
ments on his beauty.
" You've brought me quite a breakfast ! " said Helmsley.
"How much?"
" Sixpence, please."
" Only sixpence ? "
" That's all. It's a shilling with ham and eggs."
Helmsley paid the humble coin demanded, and wondered
where the " starving poor " came in, at any rate in Somer-
setshire. Any beggar on the road, making sixpence a day,
might consider himself well fed with such a meal. Just as
he drew up his chair to the table, a sudden gust of wind
swept round the house, shaking the whole building,
and apparently hurling the weight of its fury on the roof,
for it sounded as if a whole stack of chimney-pots had
fallen.
" It's a squall," said the girl " Father said there was a
storm coming. It often blows pretty hard up this way."
She went out, and left Helmsley to himself. He ate his
meal, and fed Charlie with as' much bread and milk as that
canine epicure could consume, and then sat for a while,
listening to the curious hissing of the wind, which was like
a suppressed angry whisper in his ears.
" It will be rough weather," he thought " Now shall I
stay in Minehead, or go on ? "
Somehow, his experience of vagabondage had bred in him
a certain restlessness, and he did not care to linger in any
one place. An inexplicable force urged him on. He was
conscious that he entertained a most foolish, most forlorn
secret hope, that of finding some yet unknown consola-
170 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
tion, of receiving some yet unobtained heavenly benedic-
tion. And he repeated again the lines :
" Let the sweet heavens endure,
Not close and darken above me,
Before I am quite, quite sure
That there is one to love me ! "
Surely a Divine Providence there was who could read his
heart's desire, and who could see how sincerely in earnest
he was to find some channel wherein the current of his ac-
cumulated wealth might flow after his own death, to fruit-
fulness and blessing for those who truly deserved it.
" Is it so much to ask of destiny just one honest heart? "
he inwardly demanded " Is it so large a return to want
from the world in which I have toiled so long just one
unselfish love? People would tell me I am too old to ex-
pect such a thing, but I am not seeking the love of a
lover, that I know is impossible. But Love, that most
god-like of all emotions, has many phases, and a merely
sexual attraction is the least and worst part of the divine
passion. There is a higher form, one far more lasting and
perfect, in which Self has very little part, and though I
cannot give it a name, I am certain of its existence ! "
Another gust of wind, more furious than the last, whistled
overhead and through the crannies of the door. He rose,
and tucking Charlie warmly under his coat as before, he
went out, pausing on his way to thank the mistress of the
little bakery for the excellent meal he had enjoyed.
" Well, you won't hurt on it," she said, smilingly ; " it's
plain, but it's wholesome. That's all we claim for it. Are
you going on far ? "
" Yes, I'm bound for a pretty long tramp," he replied.
" I'm walking to find friends in Cornwall."
She opened her eyes in unfeigned wonder and compassion.
"Deary me!" she ejaculated "You've a stiff road be-
fore you. And to-day I'm afraid .you'll be in for a storm."
He glanced out through the shop-window.
" It's not raining," he said.
" Not yet, but it's blowing hard," she replied "And
it's like to blow harder."
"Never mind, I must risk it!" And he lifted his cap;
"Good-day!"
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 171
" Good-day ! A safe journey to you ! "
" Thank you ! "
And, gratefully acknowledging the kindly woman's part-
ing nod and smile, he stepped out of the shop into the street.
There he found the wind had risen indeed. Showers of
blinding dust were circling in the air, blotting out the view,
the sky was covered with masses of murky cloud drifting
against each other in threatening confusion' and there
was a dashing sound of the sea on the beach which seemed
to be steadily increasing in volume and intensity. He paused
for a moment under the shelter of an arched doorway, to
place Charlie more comfortably under his arm and button
his coat more securely, the while he watched the people in
the principal thoroughfare struggling with the capricious
attacks of the blast, which tore their hats off and sent them
spinning across the road, and played mischievous havoc with
women's skirts, blowing them up to the knees, and making
a great exhibition of feet, few of which were worth looking
at from any point of beauty or fitness. And then, all at
once, amid the whirling of the gale, he heard a hoarse sten-
torian shouting "Awful Murder ! Local Crime ! Murder
of a Nobleman ! Murder at Blue Anchor ! Latest details ! "
and he started precipitately forward, walking hurriedly along
with as much nervous horror as though he had been guiltily
concerned in the deed with which the town was ringing.
Two or three boys ran past him, with printed placards in
their hands, which they waved in front of them, and on
which in thick black letters could be seen : " Murder
of Lord Wrotham ! Death of the Murderer ! Appalling
Tragedy at Blue Anchor ! " And, for a few seconds, amid
the confusion caused by the wind, and the wild clamour
of the newsvendors, he felt as if every one were reeling pell-
mell around him like persons on a ship at sea, men with
hats blown off, women and children running aslant against
the gale with hair streaming, all eager to purchase the first
papers which contained the account of a tragedy, enacted, as
it were, at their very doors. Outside a little glass and china
shop at the top of a rather hilly street a group of working-
men were standing, with the papers they had just bought
in their hands, and Helmsley, as he trudged by, with stoop-
ing figure and bent head set against the wind, lingered near
them a moment to hear them discuss the news.
172 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
"Ah, poor Tom ! " exclaimed one " Gone at last ! I
mind me well how he used to say he'd die a bad death ! "
" What's a bad death ? " queried another, gruffly "And
what's the truth about this here business anyhow? News-
papers is allus full o' lies. There's a lot about a lord that's
killed, but precious little about Tom ! "
" That's so ! " said an old farmer, who with spectacles on
was leaning his back against the wall of the shop near which
they stood, to shelter himself a little from the force of the
gale, while he read the paper he held " See here, this lord
was driving his motor along by Cleeve, and ran over Tom's
child, why, that's the poor Kiddie we used to see Tom car-
rying for miles on his shoulder "
"Ah, the poor lamb ! " And a commiserating groan ran
through the little group of attentive listeners.
"And then," continued the farmer " from what I can
make out of this paper, Tom picked up his baby quite dead.
Then he started to run all the way after the fellow whose
motor car had killed it. That's nat'ral enough ! "
" Of course it is ! " " I'd a' done it myself ! " " Damn
them motors ! " muttered the chorus, fiercely.
" If so be the motor 'ad gone on, Tom couldn't never 'ave
caught up with it, even if he'd run till he dropped," went on
the farmer " but as luck would 'ave it, the thing broke
down nigh to Blue Anchor, and Tom got his chance.
Which he took. And he killed this Lord Wrotham, who-
ever he is, stuck him in the throat with a knife as though
he were a pig ! "
There was a moment's horrified silence.
" So he wor ! " said one man, emphatically "A right-
down reg'lar road-hog ! "
" Then," proceeded the farmer, carefully studying the
paper again " Tom, 'avin' done all his best an' worst in
this world, gives himself up to the police, but just 'afore
goin' off, -asks if he may kiss his dead baby, "
A long pause here ensued. Tears stood in many of the
men's eyes.
"And," continued the farmer, with a husky and trembling
voice " he takes the child in his arms, an' all sudden like
falls down dead. God rest him ! "
Another pause.
" And what does the paper say about it all ? " enquired
one of the group.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN J73
" It says wait a minute ! it says ' Society will be
plunged into mourning 1 for Lord Wrotham, who was one
of the most promising of our younger peers, and whose
sporting tendencies made him a great favourite in Court
circles.' "
" That's a bit o' bunkum paid for by the fam'ly ! " said a
great hulking drayman who had joined the little knot of
bystanders, flicking his whip as he spoke, " Sassiety
plunged into mourning for the death of a precious raskill,
is it ? I 'xpect it's often got to mourn that way ! Rort an'
rubbish! Tell ye what! Tom o' the Gleam was worth a
dozen o' your motorin' lords! an' the hull country-side
through Quantocks, ay, an' even across Exmoor, 'ull 'ave
tears for 'im an' 'is pretty little Kiddie what didn't do no
'arm to anybody more'n a lamb skippin' in the fields. Tom
worn't known in their blessed ' Court circles,' but, by the
Lord ! he'd got a grip o' the people's heart about here, an'
the people don't forget their friends in a hurry ! Who the
devil cares for Lord Wrotham ! "
" Who indeed ! " murmured the chorus.
" An' who'll say a bad word for Tom o' the Gleam ? "
"Nobody!" " He wor a rare fine chap ! " " We'll all
miss him ! " eagerly answered the chorus.
With a curious gesture, half of grief, half of defiance, the
drayman tore a scrap of black lining from his coat, and tied
it to his whip.
" Tom was pretty well known to be a terror to some
folk, specially liars an' raskills," he said "An' I aint
excusin' murder. But all the same I'm in mourning for
Tom an' 'is little Kiddie, an' I don't care who knows it ! "
He went off, and the group dispersed, partly driven asun-
der by the increasing fury of the wind, which was now
sweeping through the streets in strong, steady gusts,
hurling everything before it. But Helmsley set his face
to the storm and toiled on. He must get out of Minehead.
This he felt to be imperative. He could not stay in a town
which now for many days would talk of nothing else but the
tragic death of Tom o' the Gleam. His nerves were shaken,
and he felt himself to be mentally, as well as physically, dis-
tressed by the strange chance which had associated him
against his will with such a grim drama of passion and
revenge. He remembered seeing the fateful motor swing
down that precipitous road near Cleeve, he recalled its
174 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
narrow escape from a complete upset at the end of the
declivity when it had swerved round the corner and rushed
on, how little he .had dreamed that a child's life had just
been torn away by its reckless wheels ! and that child the
all-in-the-world to Tom o' the Gleam ! Tom must have
tracked the motor by following some side-lane or short cut
known only to himself, otherwise Helmsley thought he
would hardly have escaped seeing him. But, in any case,
the slow and trudging movements of an old man must have
lagged far, far behind those of the strong, fleet-footed gypsy
to whom the wildest hills and dales, cliffs and sea caves were
all familiar ground. Like a voice from the grave, the reply
Tom had given to Matt Peke at the " Trusty Man," when
Matt asked him where he had come from, rang back upon
his ears " From the caves of Cornwall ! From picking up
drift on the shore and tracking seals to their lair in the hol-
lows of the rocks! All sport, Matt! I live like a gentle-
man born, keeping or killing at my pleasure ! "
Shuddering at this recollection, Helmsley pressed on in
the teeth of the blast, and a sudden shower of rain scudded
by, stinging him in the face with the sharpness of needle-
points. The gale was so high, and the blown dust so thick
on all sides, that he could scarcely see where he was going,
but his chief effort was to get out of Minehead and away
from all contact with human beings for the time. In this
he succeeded very soon. Once well beyond the town, he
did not pause to make a choice of roads. He only sought to
avoid the coast line, rightly judging that way to lie most
open and exposed to the storm, moreover the wind swooped
in so fiercely from the sea, and the rising waves made such
a terrific roaring, that, for the mere sake of greater quietness,
he turned aside and followed a path which appeared to lead
invitingly into some deep hollow of the hills. There seemed
a slight chance of the weather clearing at noon, for though
the wind was so high, the clouds were whitening under pass-
ing gleams of sunlight, and the scud of rain had passed. As
he walked further and further he found himself entering a
deep green valley a cleft between high hills, and though
he had no idea which way it led him, he was pleased to
have reached a comparatively sheltered spot where the force
of the hurricane was not so fiercely felt, and where the angry
argument of the sea was deadened by distance. There was
a lovely perfume everywhere, the dash of rain on the herbs
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 175
"""'" i
and field flowers had brought out their scent, and the fresh-
ness of the stormy atmosphere was bracing and exhilarating.
He put Charlie down on the grass, and was amused to see
how obediently the tiny creature trotted after him, close at
his heels, in the manner of a well-trained, well-taught lady's
favourite. There was no danger of wheeled or motor traf-
fic in this peaceful little glen, which appeared to be used
solely by pedestrians. He rather wondered now and then
whither it led, but was not very greatly concerned on the
subject. What pleased him most was that he did not see a
single human being anywhere or a sign of human habitation.
Presently the path began to ascend, and he followed it
upward. The climb became gradually steep and wearisome,
and the track grew smaller, almost vanishing altogether
among masses of loose stones, which had rolled down from
the summits of the hills, and he had again to carry Charlie,
who very strenuously objected to the contact of sharp flints
against his dainty little feet. The boisterous wind now met
him full-faced, but, struggling against it, he finally reached
a wide plateau, commanding a view of the surrounding
country and the sea. Not a house was in sight ; all around
him extended a chain of hills, like a fortress set against in-
vading ocean, and straight away before his eyes ocean itself
rose and fell in a chaos of billowy blackness. What a sight
it was ! Here, from this point, he could take some measure
and form some idea of the storm, which so far from abating
as he had imagined it might, when passing through the pro-
tected seclusion of the valley he had just left, was evidently
gathering itself together for a still fiercer onslaught.
Breathless with his climbing exertions he stood watching
the huge walls of water, built up almost solidly as it seemed,
by one force and dashed down again by another, it was as
though great mountains lifted themselves over each other
to peer at the sky and were driven back again to shapeless-
ness and destruction. The spectacle was all the more grand
and impressive to him, because where he now was he could
not hear the full clamour of the rolling and retreating bil-
lows. The thunder of the surf was diminished to a sullen
moan, which came along with the wind and clung to it like
a concordant note in music, forming one sustained chord of
wrath and desolation. Darkening steadily over the sea and
densely over-spreading the whole sky, there were flying
clouds of singular shape, clouds tossed up into the mo-
176 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
i
mentary similitude of Titanesque human figures with threat-
ening arms outstretched, anon, to the filmly outlines of
fabulous birds swooping downwards with jagged wings and
ravenous beaks, or twisting into columns and pyramids of
vapour as though the showers of foam flung up by the waves
had been caught in mid-air and suddenly frozen. Several
sea-gulls were flying inland ; two or three soared right over
Helmsley's head with a plaintive cry. He turned to watch
their graceful flight, and saw another phalanx of clouds
coming up behind to meet and cope with those already hurry-
ing in with the wind from the sea. The darkness of the sky
was deepening every minute, and he began to feel a little
uneasy. He realised that he had lost his way, and he looked
on all sides for some glimpse of a main road, but could see
none, and the path he had followed evidently terminated at
the summit where he stood. To return to the valley he had
left seemed futile, as it was only a way back to Minehead,
which place he wished to avoid. There was a small sheep
track winding down on the other side of the hill, and he
thought it possible that this might lead to a farm-road, which
again might take him out on some more direct highway. He
therefore started to follow it. He could scarcely walk
against the wind ; it blew with such increasing fury. Charlie
shivered away from its fierce breath and snuggled his tiny
body more warmly under his protector's arm, withdrawing
himself entirely from view. And now with a sudden hissing
whirl, down came the rain. The two opposing forces of
cloud met with a sudden rush, and emptied their pent-up
torrents on the earth, while a low muttering noise, not of the
wind, betokened thunder. The prolonged heat of the last
month had been very great all over the country, and a sup-
pressed volcano was smouldering in the heart of the heavens,
ready to shoot forth fire. The roaring of the sea grew more
distinct as Helmsley descended from the height and came
nearer to the coast line, and the mingled scream of the
angry surf on the shore and the sword-like sweep of the
rain, rang in his ears deafeningly, with a kind of monotonous
horror. His head began to swim, and his eyes were half
blinded by the sharp showers that whipped his face with
blown drops as hard and cold as hail. On he went, how-
ever, more like a struggling dreamer in a dream, than
with actual consciousness, and darker and wilder grew the
storm. A forked flash of lightning, running suddenly like
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 177
melted lava down the sky, flung half a second's lurid blue
glare athwart the deepening blackness, and in less than
two minutes it was followed by the first decisive peal of
thunder rolling in deep reverberations from sea to land, from
land to sea again. The war of the elements had begun
in earnest Amid their increasing giant wrath, Helmsley
stumbled almost unseeingly along, keeping his head down
and leaning more heavily than was his usual wont upon the
stout ash stick which was part of the workman's outfit he
had purchased for himself in Bristol, and which now served
him as his best support. In the gathering gloom, with his
stooping thin figure, he looked more like a faded leaf flutter-
ing in the gale than a man, and he was beginning now to
realise with keen disappointment that his strength was not
equal to the strain he had been putting upon it. The weight
of his seventy years was pressing him down, and a sudden
thrill of nervous terror ran through him lest his whim for
wandering should cost him his life.
"And if I were to die of exhaustion out here on the hills,
what would be said of me? " he thought " They would find
my body perhaps after some days ; they would discover
the money I carry in my vest lining, and a letter to Vesey
which would declare my actual identity. Then I should be
called a fool or a madman most probably the latter. No
one would know, no one would guess except Vesey the
real object with which I started on this wild goose chase
after the impossible. It is a foolish quest ! Perhaps after
all I had better give it up, and return to the old wearisome
life of luxury, the old ways! and die in my bed in the
usual ' respectable ' style of the rich, with expensive doctors,
nurses and medicines set in order round me, and all arrange-
ments getting ready for a ' first-class funeral ' ! "
He laughed drearily. Another flash of lightning, fol-
lowed almost instantaneously by a terrific crash of thunder,
brought him to a pause. He was now at the bottom of the
hill which he had ascended from the other side, and perceived
a distinct and well-trodden path which appeared to lead in a
circuitous direction towards the sea. Here there seemed
some chance of getting out of the labyrinth of hills into
which he had incautiously wandered, and, summoning up his
scattered forces, he pressed on. The path proved to be
an interminable winding way, first up then down, now
showing glimpses of the raging ocean, now dipping over
178 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
bare and desolate lengths of land, and presently it turned
abruptly into a deep thicket of trees. Drenched with rain
and tired of fighting against the boisterous wind which
almost tore his breath away, he entered this dark wood with
a vague sense of relief, it offered some sort of shelter, and
if the trees attracted the lightning and he were struck dead
beneath them, what did it matter after all! One way of
dying was as good (or as bad) as another !
The over-arching boughs dripping with wet, closed over
him and drew him, as it were, into their dense shadows,
the wind shrieked after him like a scolding fury, but its rag-
ing tone grew softer as he penetrated more deeply into the
sable-green depths of heavily foliaged solitude. His weary
feet trod gratefully on a thick carpet of pine needles and
masses of the last year's fallen leaves, and a strong sweet
scent of mingled elderflower and sweetbriar was tossed to
him on every gust of rain. Here the storm turned itself to
music and revelled in a glorious symphony of sound.
" Oh ye Winds of God, bless ye the Lord ; praise Him and
magnify Him for ever !
" Oh ye Lightnings and Clouds, bless ye the Lord ; praise
Him and magnify Him for ever ! "
In full chords of passionate praise the hurricane swept
its grand anthem through the rustling, swaying trees, as
though these were the strings of a giant harp on which some
great Archangel played, and the dash and roar of the sea
came with it, rolling in the track of another mighty peal of
thunder. Helmsley stopped and listened, seized by an over-
powering enchantment and awe.
" This this is Life ! " he said, half aloud " Our miser-
able human vanities our petty schemes our poor ambi-
tions what are they ? Motes in a sunbeam ! gone as soon
as realised ! But Life, the deep, self-contained divine Life
of Nature this is the only life that lives for ever, the Im-
mortality of which we are a part ! "
A fierce gust of wind here snapped asunder a great branch
from a tree, and flung it straight across his path. Had he
been a few inches nearer, it would have probably struck him
down with it. Charlie peeped out from under his arm with
a pitiful little whimper, and Helmsley's heart smote him.
" Poor wee Charlie ! " he said, fondling the tiny head ; " I
know what you would say to me ! You would say that if I
want to risk my own life, I needn't risk yours ! Is that it ?
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 179
\Vell! I'll try to get you out of this if I can! I wish I
could see some sign of a house anywhere ! I'd make for it
and ask for shelter."
He trudged patiently onwards, but he was beginning
to feel unsteady in his limbs, and every now and then
he had to stop, overcome by a sickening sensation of giddi-
ness. The tempest had now fully developed into a heavy
thunderstorm, and the lightning quivered and gleamed
through the trees incessantly, followed by huge claps of
thunder which clashed down without a second's warning,
afterwards rolling away in long thudding detonations echo-
ing for miles and miles. It was difficult to walk at all in
such a storm, the youngest and strongest pedestrian might
have given way under the combined onslaught of rain, wind,
and the pattering shower of leaves which were literally torn,
fresh and green, from their parent boughs and cast forth to
whirl confusedly amid the troubled spaces of the air. And
if the young and strong would have found it hard to brave
such an uproar of the elements, how much harder was it
for an old man, who, deeming himself stronger than he
actually was, and buoyed up by sheer nerve and mental
obstinacy, had, of his own choice, brought himself into this
needless plight and danger. For now, in utter weariness of
body and spirit, Helmsley began to reproach himself bitterly
for his rashness. A mere caprice of the imagination, a
fancy that, perhaps, among the poor and lowly he might find
a love or a friendship he had never met with among the rich
and powerful, was all that had led him forth on this strange
journey of which the end could but be disappointment and
failure ; and at the present moment he felt so thoroughly
conscious of his own folly, that he almost resolved on
abandoning his enterprise as soon as he found himself once
more on the main road.
" I will take the first vehicle that comes by," he said,
" and make for the nearest railway station. And I'll end
my days with a character for being ' hard as nails ! ' that's
the only way in which one can win the respectful considera-
tion of one's fellows as a thoroughly ' sane and sensible '
man ! "
Just then, the path he was following started sharply up a
steep acclivity, and there was no other choice left to him
but still to continue in it, as the trees were closing in blindly
intricate tangles about him, and the brushwood was becom-
180 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ing so thick that he could not have possibly forced a passage
through it. His footing grew more difficult, for now, in-
stead of soft pine-needles and leaves to tread upon, there
were only loose stones, and the rain was blowing in down-
ward squalls that almost by their very fury threw him back-
ward on the ground. Up, still up, he went, however, pant-
ing painfully as he climbed, his breath was short and un-
easy and all his body ached and shivered as with strong
ague. At last, dizzy and half fainting, he arrived at the
top of the 1 tedious and troublesome ascent, and uttered an
involuntary cry at the scene of beauty and grandeur stretched
in front of him. How far he had walked he had no idea,
nor did he know how many hours he had taken in walk-
ing, but he had somehow found his way to the summit of
a rocky wooded height, from which he could survey the
whole troubled expanse of wild sky and wilder sea, while
just below him the hills were split asunder into a huge cleft,
or " coombe," running straight down to the very lip of ocean,
with rampant foliage hanging about it on either side in lavish
garlands of green, and big boulders piled up about it, from
whose smooth surfaces the rain swept off in sleety sheets,
leaving them shining like polished silver. What a wild
Paradise was here disclosed ! what a matchless picture,
called into shape and colour with all the forceful ease and
perfection of Nature's handiwork! No glimpse of human
habitation was anywhere visible ; man seemed to have found
no dwelling here ; there was nothing nothing, but Earth
the Beautiful, and her Lover the Sea! Over these twain
the lightnings leaped, and the thunder played in the sanctu-
ary of heaven, this hour of storm was all their own, and
humanity was no more counted in their passionate inter-
mingling of life than the insects on a leaf, or the grains of
sand on the shore. For a moment or two Helmsley's eyes,
straining and dim, gazed out on the marvellously bewitching
landscape thus suddenly unrolled before him, then all at
once a sharp pain running through his heart caused him to
flinch and tremble. It was a keen stab of anguish, as though
a knife had been plunged into his body.
" My God ! " he muttered" What what is this? "
Walking feebly to a great stone hard by, he sat down
upon it, breathing with difficulty. The rain beat full upon
him, but he did not heed it; he sought to recover from the
shock of that horrible pain, to overcome the creeping sick
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 181
sensation of numbness which seemed to be slowly freezing
him to death. With a violent effort he tried to shake the
illness off; he looked up at the sky and was met by a
blinding flash which tore the clouds asunder and revealed a
white blaze of palpitating fire in the centre of the black-
ness and at this he made some inarticulate sound, putting
both his hands before his face to hide the angry mass of
flame. In so doing he let the little Charlie escape, who, find-
ing himself out of his warm shelter and on the wet grass,
stood amazed, and shivering pitifully under the torrents of
rain. But Helmsley was not conscious of his canine friend's
distress. Another pang, cruel and prolonged, convulsed
him, a blood-red mist swam before his eyes, and he lost
all hold on sense and memory. With a dull groan he fell
forward, slipping from the stone on which he had been
seated, in a helpless heap on the ground, involuntarily he
threw up his arms as a drowning man might do among great
waves overwhelming him, and so went down down ! into
silence and unconsciousness.
CHAPTER XII
THE storm raged till sunset ; and then exhausted by its own
stress of fury, began to roll away in angry sobs across the
sea. The wind sank suddenly ; the rain as suddenly ceased.
A wonderful flush of burning orange light cut the sky
asunder, spreading gradually upward and paling into fairest
rose. The sullen clouds caught brightness at their sum-
mits, and took upon themselves the semblance of Alpine
heights touched by the mystic glory of the dawn, and a clear
silver radiance flashed across the ocean for a second and
then vanished, as though a flaming torch had just flared up
to show the troublous heaving of the waters, and had then
been instantly quenched. As the evening came on the
weather steadily cleared ; and presently a pure, calm, dark-
blue expanse of ether stretched balmily across the whole
width of the waves, with the evening star the Star of
Love glimmering faintly aloft like a delicate jewel hang-
ing on the very heart of the air. Far away down in the
depths of the " coombe," a church bell rang softly for some
holy service, and when David Helmsley awoke at last from
his death-like swoon he found himself no longer alone. A
woman knelt beside him, supporting him in her arms, and
when he looked up at her wonderingly, he saw two eyes
bent upon him with such watchful tenderness that in his
weak, half-conscious state he fancied he must be wandering
somewhere through heaven if the stars were so near. He
tried to speak to move, but was checked by a gentle pres-
sure of the protecting arms about him.
" Better now, dearie ? " murmured a low anxious voice.
"That's right! Don't try to get up just yet take time!
Let the strength come back to you first ! "
Who was it who could it be, that spoke to him with such
affectionate solicitude ? He gazed and gazed and marvelled,
but it was too dark to see the features of his rescuer.
As consciousness grew more vivid, he realised that he was
leaning against her bosom like a helpless child, that the
wet grass was all about him, and that he was cold, very
182
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 183
cold, with a coldness as of some enclosing grave. Sense
and memory returned to him slowly with sharp stabs of
physical pain, and presently he found utterance.
" You are very kind ! " he muttered, feebly " I begin
to recollect now I had walked a long way and I was
caught in the storm I felt ill, very ill ! I suppose I must
have fallen down here "
" That's it ! " said the woman, gently" Don't try to think
about it! You'll be better presently."
He closed his eyes wearily, then opened them again,
struck by a sudden self-reproach and anxiety.
"The little dog?" he asked, trembling " The little dog
I had with me ?"
He saw, or thought he saw, a smile on the face in the
darkness.
" The little dog's all right, don't you worry about him ! "
said the woman " He knows how to take care of himself
and you too! It was just him that brought me along here
where I found you. Bless the little soul! He made noise
enough for six of his size ! "
Helmsley gave a faint sigh of pleasure.
" Poor little Charlie ! Where is he ? "
" Oh, he's close by ! He was almost drowned with the
rain, like a poor mouse in a pail of water, but he went on
barking all the same ! I dried him as well as I could in my
apron, and then wrapped him up in my cloak, he's sitting
right in it just now watching me."
" If if I die, please take care of him ! " murmured
Helmsley.
" Nonsense, dearie ! I'm not going to let you die out
here on the hills, don't think it ! " said the woman, cheerily,
" I want to get you up, and take you home with me.
The storm's well overpast, if you could manage to
move "
He raised himself a little, and tried to see her more
Closer.
" Do you live far from here? " he asked.
" Only just on the upper edge of the ' coombe ' not in
the village," she answered " It's quite a short way, but
a bit steep going. If you lean on me, I won't let you slip,
I'm as strong as a man, and as men go now-a-days,
stronger than most ! "
He struggled to rise, and she assisted him. By dint of
184 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
sheer mental force and determination he got himself on
his feet, but his limbs shook violently, and his head swam.
" I'm afraid " he faltered " I'm afraid I am very ill.
I shall only be a trouble to you "
" Don't talk of trouble ? Wait till I fetch the doggie ! "
And, turning from him a moment, she ran to pick up
Charlie, who, as she had said, was sungly ensconced in
the folds of her cloak, which she had put for him under the
shelter of a projecting boulder, " Could you carry him,
do you think ? "
He nodded assent, and put the little animal under his
coat as before, touched almost to weak tears to feel it
trying to lick his hand. Meanwhile his unknown and
scarcely visible protectress put an arm round him, holding
him up as carefully as though he were a tottering infant.
"Don't hurry just take an easy step at a time," she
said " The moon rises a bit late, and we'll have to see
our way as best we can with the stars." And she gave a
glance upward. " That's a bright one just over the coombe,
the girls about here call it ' Light o' Love.' "
Moving stiffly, and with great pain, Helmsley was nev-
ertheless impelled, despite his suffering, to look, as she was
looking, towards the heavens. There he saw the same star
that had peered at him through the window of his study at
Carlton House Terrace, the same that had sparkled out
in the sky the night that he and Matt Peke had trudged
the road together, and which Matt had described as " the
love-star, an' it'll be nowt else in these parts till the world-
without-end-amen ! " And she whose eyes were upturned
to its silvery glory, who was she? His sight was very
dim, and in the deepening shadows he could only discern
a figure of medium womanly height, an uncovered head
with the hair loosely knotted in a thick coil at the nape of
the neck, and the outline of a face which might be fair
or plain, he could not tell. He was conscious of the warm
strength of the arm that supported him, for when he slipped
once or twice, he was caught up tenderly, without hurt or
haste, and held even more securely than before. Gradually,
and by halting degrees, he made the descent of the hill,
and, as his guide helped him carefully over a few loose
stones in the path, he saw through a dark clump of foliage
the glimmer of twinkling lights, and heard the rush of water.
He paused, vaguely bewildered.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 185
" Nearly home now ! " said his guide, encouragingly ;
"Just a few steps more and we'll be there. My cottage
is the last and the highest in the coombe. The other
houses are all down closer to the sea."
Still he stood inert.
" The sea! " he echoed, faintly" Where is it? "
With her disengaged hand she pointed outwards.
" Yonder ! By and by, when the moon comes over the
hill, it will be shining like a silver field with big daisies
blowing and growing all over it. That's the way it often
looks after a storm. The tops of the waves are just like
great white flowers."
He glanced at her as she said this, and caught a closer
glimpse of her face. Some faint mystical light in the sky
illumined the outlines of her features, and showed him a
calm and noble profile, such as may be found in early Greek
sculpture, and which silently expresses the lines :
" Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know ! "
He moved on with a quicker step, touched by a keen
sense of expectation. Ill as he knew himself to be, he was
eager to reach this woman's dwelling and to see her more
closely. A soft laugh of pleasure broke from her lips as
he tried to accelerate his pace.
" Oh, we're getting quite strong and bold now, aren't
we ! " she exclaimed, gaily " But take care not to go too
fast ! There's a rough bit of bog and boulder coming."
This was true. They had arrived at the upper edge of
a bank overlooking a hill stream which was pouring noisily
down in a flood made turgid by the rain, and the " rough
bit of bog and boulder " was a sort of natural bridge across
the torrent, formed by heaps of earth and rock, out of
which masses of wet fern and plumy meadow-sweet sprang
in tall tufts and garlands, which though beautiful to the
eyes in day-time, were apt to entangle the feet in walking,
especially when there was only the uncertain glimmer of
the stars by which to grope one's way. Helmsley's age
and over-wrought condition made his movements nervous
and faltering at this point, and nothing could exceed the
firm care and delicate solicitude with which his guide helped
him over this last difficulty of the road. She was indeed
286 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
strong, as she had said, she seemed capable of lifting him
bodily, if need were yet she was not a woman of large
or robust frame. On the contrary, she appeared slightly
built, and carried herself with that careless grace which
betokens perfect form. Once safely across the bridge and
on the other side of the coombe, she pointed to a tiny lattice
window with a light behind it which gleamed out through
the surrounding foliage like a glow-worm in the darkness.
" Here we are at home," she said, " Just along this
path it's quite easy ! now under this tree it's a big chest-
nut, you'll love it! now here's the garden gate wait
till I lift the latch that's right! the garden's quite small
you see, it goes straight up to the cottage and here's the
door ! Come in ! "
As in a dream, Helmsley was dimly conscious of the
swishing rustle of wet leaves, and the fragrance of mignon-
ette and roses mingling with the salty scent of the sea,
then he found himself in a small, low, oak-raftered kitchen,
with a wide old-fashioned hearth and ingle-nook, warm with
the glow of a sparkling fire. A quaintly carved comfort-
ably cushioned arm-chair was set in the corner, and to
this his guide conducted him, and gently made him sit
down.
" Now give me the doggie ! " she said, taking that little
personage from his arms " He'll be glad of his supper
and a warm bed, poor little soul ! And so will you ! "
With a kindly caress she set Charlie down in front of
the hearth, and proceeded to shut the cottage door, which
had been left open as they entered, and locking it, dropped
an iron bar across it for the night. Then she threw off her
cloak, and hung it up on a nail in the wall, and bending over
a lamp which was burning low on the table, turned up its
wick a little higher. Helmsley watched her in a kind
of stupefied wonderment. As the lamplight flashed up on
her features, he saw that she was not a girl, but a woman
who seemed to have thought and suffered. Her face was
pale, and the lines of her mouth were serious, though very
sweet. He could hardly judge whether she had beauty or
not, because he saw her at a disadvantage. He was too ill
to appreciate details, and he could only gaze at her in the
dim and troubled weariness of an old and helpless man,
who for the time being was dependent on any kindly aid
that might be offered to him. Once or twice the vague
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 187
idea crossed his mind that he would tell her who he was,
and assure her that he had plenty of money about him
to reward her for her care and pains, but he could not
bring himself to the point of this confession. The sur-
prise and sweetness of being received thus unquestioningly
under the shelter of her roof as merely the poor way-worn
tramp he seemed to be, were too great for him to relinquish.
She, meanwhile, having trimmed the lamp, hurried into a
neighboring room, and came in again with a bundle of wool-
len garments, and a thick flannel dressing gown on her
arm.
" This was my father's," she said, as she brought it to
him " It's soft and cosy. Get off your wet clothes and
slip into it, while I go and make your bed ready."
She spread the dressing gown before the fire to warm
it, and was about to turn away again, when Helmsley laid
a detaining hand on her arm.
" Wait wait ! " he said " Do you know what you are
doing?"
She laughed.
" Well, now that is a question ! Do I seem crazy? "
" Almost you do to me ! " And stirred into a sudden
flicker of animation, he held her fast as he spoke " Do you
live alone here?"
" Yes, quite alone."
"Then don't you see how foolish you are? You are
taking into your house a mere tramp, a beggar who is
more likely to die than live ! Do you realise how dangerous
this is for you? I may be an escaped convict, a thief
even a murderer ! You cannot tell ! "
She smiled and nodded at him as a nurse might nod and
smile at a fanciful or querulous patient.
" I can't tell, certainly, and don't want to know ! "_ she
replied " I go by what I see."
" And what do you see ? "
She patted his thin cold hand kindly.
" I see a very old man older than my own dear father
was when he died and I know he is too old and feeble
to be out at night in the wet and stormy weather. I know
that he is ill and weak, and suffering from exhaustion, and
that he must rest and be well nourished for a few days till
he gets strong again. And I am going to take care of
him," here she gave a consoling little pressure to the
188 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
hand she held. " I am indeed ! And he must do as tye is
told, and take off his wet clothes and get ready for bed ! "
Something in Helmsley's throat tightened like the con-
traction of a rising sob.
"You will risk all this trouble," he faltered " for a
stranger who who cannot repay you ? "
" Now, now ! You mustn't hurt me ! " she said, with
a touch of reproach in her soft tones " I don't want to be
repaid in any way. You know WHO it was that said 'I
was a stranger and ye took me in ' ? Well, He would wish
me to take care of you."
She spoke quite simply, without any affectation of religious
sentiment. Helmsley looked at her steadily.
" Is that why you shelter me ? "
She smiled very sweetly, and he saw that her eyes were
beautiful.
" That is one reason, certainly ! " she answered ; " But
there is another, quite a selfish one ! I loved my father,
and when he died, I lost everything I cared for in the
world. You remind me of him just a little. Now will
you do as I ask you, and take off your wet things?"
He let go her hand gently.
" I will," he said, unsteadily for there were tears in
his eyes " I will do anything you wish. Only tell me
your name ! "
" My name ? My name is Mary, Mary Deane."
" Mary Deane ! " he repeated softly and yet again
" Mary Deane ! A pretty name ! Shall I tell you mine ! "
" Not unless you like," she replied, quickly " It doesn't
matter ! "
" Oh, you'd better know it ! " he said " I'm only old
David a man ' on the road ' tramping it to Cornwall."
" That's a long way ! " she murmured compassionately,
as she took his weather-beaten hat and shook the wet from
it " And why do you want to tramp so far, you poor old
David?"
" I'm looking for a friend," he answered " And maybe
it's no use trying, but I should like to find that friend
before I die."
" And so you will, I'm sure ! " she declared, smiling at
him, but with something of an anxious expression in her
eyes, for Helmsley's face was very pinched and pallid, and
every now and then he shivered violently as with an ague
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 189
fit " But you must pick up your strength first. Then you'll
get on better and quicker. Now I'm going to leave you
while you change. You'll find plenty of warm things with
the dressing gown."
She went out as before into the next room, and Helmsley
managed, though with considerable difficulty, to divest him-
self of his drenched clothes and get on the comfortable
woollen garments she had put ready for him. When he
took off his coat and vest, he spread them in front of the
fire to dry instead of the dressing-gown which he now wore,
and as soon as she returned he specially pointed out the vest
to her.
" I should like you to put that away somewhere in your
own safe keeping," he said. " It has a few letters and
and papers in it which I value, and I don't want any
stranger to see them. Will you take care of it for me ? "
" Of course I will ! Nobody shall touch it, be sure !
Not a soul ever comes nigh me unless I ask for company !
so you can be quite easy in your mind. Now I'm going
to give you a cup of hot soup, and then you'll go to bed,
won't you? and, please God, you'll be better in the
morning
He nodded feebly, and forced a smile. He had sunk
back in the arm-chair and his eyes were fixed on the warm-
hearth, where the tiny dog, Charlie, whom he had rescued,
and who in turn had rescued him, was curled up and snooz-
ing peacefully. Now that the long physical and nervous
strain of his journey and of his ghastly experience at Blue
Anchor was past, he felt almost too weak to lift a hand,
and the sudden change from the fierce buffetings of the
storm to the homely tranquillity of this little cottage into
which he had been welcomed just as though he had every
right to be there, affected him with a strange sensation
which he could not analyse. And once he murmured half
unconsciously:
" Mary ! Mary Deane ! "
" Yes, that's me ! " she responded cheerfully, coming to
his side at once " I'm here ! "
He lifted his head and looked at her.
" Yes, I know you are here, Mary ! " he said, his voice
trembling a little as he uttered her name " And I thank
God for sending you to me in time ! But how how was it
that you found me ? "
.190 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" I was watching the storm," she replied " I love wild
weather! I love to hear the wind among the trees and
the pouring of the rain ! I was standing at my door listen-
ing to the waves thudding - into the hollow of the coombe,
and all at once I heard the sharp barking of a dog on the
hill just above here and sometimes the bark changed to
a pitiful little howl, as if the animal were in pain. So I
put on my cloak and crossed the coombe up the bank
it's only a few mintes' scramble, though to you it seemed
ever such a long way to-night, and there I saw you lying
on the grass with the little doggie running round and
round you, and making all the noise he could to bring help.
Wise little beastie ! " And she stooped to pat the tiny object
of her praise, who sighed comfortably and stretched his
dainty paws out a little more luxuriously " If it hadn't
been for him you might have died ! "
He said nothing, but watched her in a kind of morbid
fascination as she went to the fire and removed a saucepan
which she had set there some minutes previously. Taking
a large old-fashioned Delft bowl from a cupboard at one
side of the fire-place, she filled it with steaming soup which
smelt deliciously savoury and appetising, and brought it
to him with some daintily cut morsels of bread. He was too
ill to feel much hunger, but to please her, he managed to
sip it by slow degrees, talking to her between-whiles.
" You say you live alone here," he murmured " But
are you always alone ? "
" Always, ever since father died."
" How long is that ago ? "
" Five years."
" You are not you have not been married ? "
She laughed.
" No indeed ! I'm an old maid ! "
" Old ? " And he raised his eyes to her face. " You are
not old ! "
" Well, I'm not young, as young people go," she de-
clared " I'm thirty-four. I was never married for myself
in my youth, and I shall certainly never be married for my
money in my age ! " Again her pretty laugh rang softly
on the silence. " But I'm quite happy, all the same! "
He still looked at her intently, and all suddenly it dawned
upon him that she was a beautiful woman. He saw, as
for the first time, the clear transparency of her skin, the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN igt
soft brilliancy of her eyes, and the wonderful masses of her
warm bronze brown hair. He noted the perfect poise of her
figure, clad as it was in a cheap print gown, the slimness
of her waist, the fulness of her bosom, the white roundness
of her throat. Then he smiled.
" So you are an old maid ! " he said " That's very
strange ! "
" Oh, I don't think so ! " and she shook her head depre-
catingly " Many women are old maids by choice as well
as by necessity. Marriage isn't always bliss, you know ! And
unless a woman loves a man very very much so much
that she can't possibly live her life without him, she'd better
keep single. At least that's my opinion. Now Mr. David,
you must go to bed ! "
He rose obediently but trembled as he rose, and could
scarcely stand from sheer weakness. Mary Deane put her
arm through his to support him.
" I'm afraid," he faltered " I'm afraid I shall be a bur-
den to you! I don't think I shall be well enough to start
again on my way to-morrow."
" You won't be allowed to do any such foolish thing ! "
she answered, with quick decision " So you can just make
up your mind on that score! You must stay here as my
guest."
" Not a paying one, I fear ! " he said, with a pained smile,
and a quick glance at her.
She gave a slight gesture of gentle reproach.
" I wouldn't have you on paying terms," she answered ;
" I don't take in lodgers."
" But but how do you live ? "
He put the question hesitatingly, yet with keen curiosity.
" How do I live? You mean how do I work for a living?
I am a lace mender, and a bit of a laundress too. I wash
fine muslin gowns, and mend and clean valuable old lace.
It's pretty work and pleasant enough in its way."
" Does it pay you well ? "
" Oh, quite sufficiently for all my needs. I don't cost
much to keep ! " And she laughed " I'm all by myself,
and I was never money-hungry ! Now come ! you mustn't
talk any more. You know who I am and what I am,
and we'll have a good long chat to-morrow. It's bed-time ! "
She led him, as though he were a child, into a little room,
one of the quaintest and prettiest he had ever seen, with
19 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
a sloping raftered ceiling, and one rather wide latticed
window set in a deep embrasure and curtained with spotless
white dimity. Here there was a plain old-fashioned oak
bedstead, trimmed with the same white hangings, the bed
itself being covered with a neat quilt of diamond-patterned
silk patchwork. Everything was delicately clean, and fra-
grant with the odour of dried rose-leaves and lavender,
and it was with all the zealous care of an anxious house-
wife that Mary Deane assured her " guest " that the sheets
were well-aired, and that there was not " a speck of damp "
anywhere. A kind of instinct told him that this dainty
little sleeping chamber, so fresh and pure, with not even
a picture on its white-washed walls, and only a plain wooden
cross hung up just opposite to the bed, must be Mary's
own room, and he looked at her questioningly.
"Where do you sleep yourself?" he asked.
" Upstairs," she answered, at once " Just above you.
This is a two-storied cottage quite large really! I have
a parlour besides the kitchen, oh, the parlour's very sweet !
it has a big window which my father built himself, and
it looks out on a lovely view of the orchard and the stream,
then I have three more rooms, and a wash-house and
cellar. It's almost too big a cottage for me, but father
loved it, and he died here, that's why I keep all his things
about me and stay on in it. He planted all the roses in
the orchard, and I couldn't leave them ! "
Helmsley said nothing in answer to this. She put an
arm-chair for him near the bed.
" Now as soon as you're in bed, just call to me and I'll
put out the light in the kitchen and go to bed myself,"
she said " And I'll take the little doggie with me, and
make him comfortable for the night. I'm leaving you a
candle and matches, and if you feel badly at all, there's
a hand-bell close by, mind you ring it, and I'll come to
you at once and do all I can for you."
He bent his eyes searchingly upon her in his old sus-
picious " business " way, his fuzzy grey eyebrows almost
meeting in the intensity of his gaze.
" Tell me why are you so good to me? " he asked.
She smiled.
" Don't ask nonsense questions, please, Mr. David !
Haven't I told you already ? not why I am ' good,' because
that's rubbish but why I am trying to take care of you ? "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 193
" Yes because I am old ! " he said, with a sudden pang
of self-contempt " and useless ! "
" Good-night ! " she answered, cheerfully " Call to me
when you are ready ! "
She was gone before he could speak another word and
he heard her talking to Charlie in petting playful terms of
endearment. Judging from the sounds in the kitchen, he
concluded, and rightly, that she was getting her own supper
and that of the dog at the same time. For two or three
minutes he sat inert, considering his strange and unique
position. What would this present adventure lead to ? Un-
less his new friend, Mary Deane, examined the vest he
had asked her to take care of for him, she would not dis-
cover who he was or from whence he came. Would she
examine it? would she unrip the lining, just out of femi-
nine curiosity, and sew it up again, pretending that she
had not touched it, after the " usual way of women " ? No !
He was sure, absolutely sure of her integrity. What?
In less than an hour's acquaintance with her, would he swear
to her honesty? Yes, he would! Never could such eyes
as hers, so softly, darkly blue and steadfast, mirror a false-
hood, or deflect the fragment of a broken promise! And
so, for the time being, in utter fatigue of both body and
mind, he put away all thought, all care for the future, and
resigned himself to fhe circumstances by which he was
now surrounded. Undressing as quickly as he could in his
weak and trembling condition, he got into the bed so com-
fortably prepared for him, and lay down in utter lassitude,
thankful for rest. After he had lain so for a few minutes
he called :
" Mary Deane ! "
She came at once, and looked in, smiling.
" All cosy and comfortable ? " she queried " That's
right ! " Then entering the room, she showed him the
very vest, the possible fate of which he had been considering.
" This is quite dry now," she said "I've been thinking
that perhaps as there are letters and papers inside, you'd
like to have it near you, so I'm just going to put it in
here see ? " And she opened a small cupboard in the wall
close to the bed " There ! Now I'll lock it up " and she
suited the action to the word " Where shall I put the key ? "
" Please keep it for me yourself ! " he answered, earnestly,
" It will be safest with you ! "
194 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Well, perhaps it will," she agreed. " Anyhow no one
can get at your letters without my consent ! Now, are you
quite easy ? "
And, as she spoke, she came and smoothed the bed-
clothes over him, and patted one of his thin, worn hands
which lay, almost unconsciously to himself, outside the
quilt.
" Quite ! " he said, faintly, " God bless you, ! "
" And you too ! " she responded " Good-night David ! "
" Good-nightMary ! "
She went away with a light step, softly closing the door
behind her. Returning to the kitchen she took up the little
dog Charlie in her arms, and nestled him against her bosom,
where he was very well content to be, and stood for a
moment looking meditatively into the fire.
" Poor old man ! " she murmured " I'm so glad I found
him before it was too late ! He would have died out there
on the hills, I'm sure ! He's very ill and so worn out and
feeble ! "
Involuntarily her glance wandered to a framed photo-
graph which stood on the mantelshelf, showing the likeness
of a white-haired man standing among a group of full-
flowering roses, with a smile upon his wrinkled face, a
smile expressing the quaintest and most complete satisfac-
tion, as though he sought to illustrate the fact that though
he was old, he was still a part of the youthful blossoming
of the earth in summer-time.
" What would you have done, father dear, if you had
been here to-night ? " she queried, addressing the portrait
" Ah, I need not ask ! I know ! You would have brought
your suffering brother home, to share all you had; you
would have said to him ' Rest, and be thankful ! ' For
you never turned the needy from your door, my dear old
dad ! never ! no matter how much you were in need
yourself ! "
She wafted a kiss to the venerable face among the roses,
and then turning, extinguished the lamp on the table.
The dying glow of the fire shone upon her for a moment,
setting a red sparkle in her hair, and a silvery one on the
silky head of the little dog she carried, and outlining her
fine profile so that it gleamed with a pure soft pallor against
the surrounding darkness, and with one final look round
to see that all was clear for the night, she went away noise-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 195
lessly like a lovely ghost and disappeared, her step making
no sound on the short wooden stairs that led to the upper
room which she had hastily arranged for her own accommo-
dation, in place of the one now occupied by the homeless
wayfarer she had rescued.
There was no return of the storm. The heavens, with
their mighty burden of stars, remained clear and tranquil,
the raging voice of ocean was gradually sinking into a
gentle crooning song of sweet content, and within the
little cottage complete silence reigned, unbroken save for
the dash of the stream outside, rushing down through the
" coombe " to the sea.
CHAPTER XIII
THE next morning Helmsley was too ill to move from his
bed, or to be conscious of his surroundings. And there
followed a long period which to him was well-nigh a
blank. For weeks he lay helpless in the grasp of a fever
which over and over again threatened to cut the last frail
thread of his life asunder. Pain tortured every nerve and
sinew in his body, and there were times of terrible collapse,
when he was conscious of nothing save an intense long-
ing to sink into the grave and have done with all the sharp
and cruel torment which kept him on the rack of existence.
In a semi-delirious condition he tossed and moaned the
hours away, hardly aware of his own identity. In certain
brief pauses of the nights and days, when pain was mo-
mentarily dulled by stupor, he saw, or fancied he saw a
woman always near him, with anxiety in her eyes and words
of soothing consolation on her lips; and then he found
himself muttering, " Mary ! Mary ! God bless you ! " over
and over again. Once or twice he dimly realised that a
small dark man came to his bedside and felt his pulse and
looked at him very doubtfully, and that she, Mary, called
this personage " doctor," and asked him questions in a
whisper. But all within his own being was pain and be-
wilderment, sometimes he felt as though he were one
drop in a burning whirlpool of madness and sometimes he
seemed to himself to be spinning round and round in a
haze of blinding rain, of which the drops were scalding
hot, and heavy as lead, and occasionally he found that he
was trying to get out of bed, uttering cries of inexplicable
anguish, while at such moments, something cool was placed
on his forehead, and a gentle arm was passed round him till
the paroxysm abated, and he fell down again among his
pillows exhausted. Slowly, and as it were grudgingly, after
many days, the crisis of the illness passed and ebbed away
in dull throbs of agony, and he sank into a weak lethargy
that was almost like the comatose condition preceding death.
He lay staring at the ceiling for hours, heedless as to whether
he ever moved or spoke again. Some-one came and put
196
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 197
spoonfuls of liquid nourishment between his lips, and he
swallowed it mechanically without any sign of conscious
appreciation. White as white marble, and aged by many
years, he remained stretched in his rigid corpse-like atti-
tude, his eyes always fixedly upturned, till one day he was
roused from his deepening torpor by the sound of sobbing.
With a violent effort he brought his gaze down from the
ceiling, and saw a figure kneeling by his bed, and a mass of*
bronze brown hair falling over a face concealed by two
shapely white hands through which the tears were falling.
Feebly astonished, he stretched out his thin, trembling fin-
gers to touch that wonderful bright mesh of waving tresses,
and asked
" What is this ? Who who is crying ? "
The hidden face was uplifted, and two soft eyes, wet with
weeping, looked up hopefully.
" It's Mary ! " said a trembling voice " You know me,
don't you? Oh, dearie, if you would but try to rouse
yourself, you'd get well even now ! "
He gazed at her in a kind of childish admiration.
" It's Mary ! " he echoed, faintly" And who is Mary?"
" Don't you remember ? " And rising from her knees,
she dashed away her tears and smiled at him " Or is it
too hard for you to think at all about it just now? Didn't
I find you out on the hills in the storm, and bring you home
here? and didn't I tell you that my name was Mary?"
He kept his eyes upon her wistful face, and presently a
wan smile crossed his lips.
" Yes ! so you did ! " he answered " I know you now,
Mary ! I've been ill, haven't I ? "
She nodded at him the tears were still wet on her lashes.
"Very ill!"
"Ill all night, I suppose?"
She nodded again.
" It's morning now ? "
" Yes, it's morning ! "
" I shall get up presently," he said, in his old gentle
courteous way " I am sorry to have given you so much
trouble! I must not burden your hospitality your kind-
ness "
His voice trailed away into silence, his eyelids drooped
and fell into a sound slumber, the first refreshing sleep
he had enjoyed for many weary nights and days.
198 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Mary Deane stood looking at him thoughtfully. The
turn had come for the better, and she silently thanked God.
Night after night, day after day, she had nursed him with
unwearying patience and devotion, having no other help
or guidance save her own womanly instinct, and the occa-
sional advice of the village doctor, who, however, was not
a qualified medical man, but merely a herbalist who prepared
his own simples. This humble Gamaliel diagnosed Helm-
sley's case as one of rheumatic fever, complicated by heart
trouble, as well as by the natural weakness of decaying
vitality. Mary had explained to him Helmsley's presence
in her cottage by a pious falsehood, which Heaven surely
forgave her as soon as it was uttered. She had said that
he was a friend of her late father's, who had sought her
out in the hope that she might help him to find some light
employment in his old age, and that not knowing the country
at all, he had lost his way across the hills during the blind-
ing fury of the storm. This story quickly ran through the
little village, of which Mary's house was the last, at the
summit of the " icoombe," and many of its inhabitants came
to inquire after " Mr. David," while he lay tossing and
moaning between life and death, most of them seriously com-
miserating Mary herself for the " sight o' trouble " she
had been put to, " all for a trampin' stranger like ! "
" Though," observed one rustic sage " Bein' a lone
woman as y' are, Mis' Deane, m'appen if he knew yer
father 'twould be pleasant to talk to him when 'is 'ed. comes
clear, if clear it iver do come. For when we've put our
owd folk under the daisies, it do cheer the 'art a bit to talk
of 'em to those as knew 'em when they was a standin'
upright, bold an' strong, for all they lays so low till last
trumpet."
Mary smiled a grave assent, and with wise tact and care-
ful forethought for the comfort and well-being of her un-
known guest, quietly accepted the position she had brought
upon herself as having given shelter and lodging to her
" father's friend," thus smoothing all difficulties away for
him, whether he recovered from his illness or not. Had
he died, she would have borne the expenses of his burial
without a word of other explanation than that which she
had offered by way of appeasing the always greedy curi-
osity of any community of human beings who are gath-
ered in one small town or village, and if he recovered,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 199
she was prepared to treat him in very truth as her " father's
friend."
" For," she argued with herself, quite simply " I am
sure father would have been kind to him, and when once
he was kind, it was impossible not to be his friend."
And, little by little, Helmsley struggled back to life,
life that was very weak and frail indeed, but still, life that
contained the whole essence and elixir of being, a new and
growing interest. Little by little his brain cleared and
recovered its poise, once more he found himself thinking
of things that had been done, and of things that were yet
worth doing. Watching Mary Deane as she went softly
to and fro in constant attendance on his needs, he was
divided in his mind between admiration, gratitude, and a
lurking suspicion, of which he was ashamed. As a business
man, he had been taught to look for interested motives
lying at the back of every action, bad or good, and as
his health improved, and calm reason again asserted its
sway, he found it difficult and well-nigh impossible to realise
or to believe that this woman, to whom he was a perfect
stranger, no more than a vagrant on the road, could have
given him so much of her time, attention, and care, unless
she had dimly supposed him to be something other than
he had represented himself. Unable yet to leave his bed,
he lay, to all appearances, quietly contented, acknowledging
her gentle ministrations with equally gentle words of thanks,
while all the time he was mentally tormenting himself with
doubts and fears. He knew that during his illness he had
been delirious, surely in that delirium he might have raved
and talked of many things that would have yielded the
entire secret of his identity. This thought made him rest-
less, and one afternoon when Mary came in with the
deliciously prepared cup of tea which she always gave him
about four o'clock, he turned his eyes upon her with a sud-
den keen look which rather startled her by its piercing
brightness suggesting, as it did, some return of fever.
"Tell me," he said "Have I been ill long? More
than a week ? "
She smiled.
" A little more than a week," she answered, gently
" Don't worry ! "
"I'm not worrying. Please tell me what day it is!"
" What day it is? Well, to-day is Sunday."
200 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Sunday ! Yes but what is the date of the month ? '*
She laughed softly, patting his hand.
" Oh, never mind ! What does it matter ? "
" It does matter," he protested, with a touch of petu-
lance " I know it is July, but what time of July ? "
She laughed again.
" It's not July," she said.
"Not July!"
" No. Nor August ! "
He raised himself on his pillow and stared at her in
questioning amazement.
"Not July? Not August? Then ?"
She took his hand between her own kind warm palms,
stroking it soothingly up and down.
" It's not July, and it's not August ! " she repeated, nod-
ding at him as though he were a worried and fractious child
" It's the second week in September. There ! "
His eyes turned from right to left in utter bewilderment.
" But how " he murmured
Then he suddenly caught her hands in the one she was
holding.
" You mean to say that I have been ill all those weeks
a burden upon you ? "
" You've been ill all those weeks yes ! " she answered
" But you haven't been a burden. Don't you think it !
You've you've been a pleasure ! " And her blue eyes
filled with soft tears, which she quickly mastered and sent
back to the tender source from which they sprang ; " You
have, really ! "
He let go her hand and sank back on his pillows with
a smothered groan.
" A pleasure ! " he muttered " I ! " And his fuzzy eye-
brows met in almost a frown as he again looked at her
with one of the keen glances which those who knew him
in business had learned to dread. " Mary Deane, do not
tell me what is not and what cannot be true ! A sick man
an old man can be no ' pleasure ' to anyone ; he is
nothing but a bore and a trouble, and the sooner he dies
the better ! "
The smiling softness still lingered in her eyes.
" Ah well ! " she said " You talk like that because
you're not strong yet, and you just feel a bit cross and
worried ! You'll be better in another few days "
" Another few days ! " he interrupted her " No no
that cannot be I must be up and tramping it again I must
not stay on here I have already stayed too long."
A slight shadow crossed her face, but she was silent. He
watched her narrowly.
" I've been off my head, haven't I ? " he queried, affect-
ing a certain brusqueness in his tone " Talking a lot of
nonsense, I suppose ? "
" Yes sometimes," she replied " But only when you
were very bad."
"And what did I say?"
She hesitated a moment, and he grew impatient.
" Come, come ! " he demanded, irritably " What did I
say?"
She looked at him candidly.
" You talked mostly about ' Tom o' the Gleam,' " she
answered " That was a poor gypsy well known in these
parts. He had just one little child left to him in the world
its mother was dead. Some rich lord driving a motor
car down by Cleeve ran over the poor baby and killed it
and Tom "
" Tom tracked the car to Blue Anchor, where he found
the man who had run over his child and killed him!" said
Helmsley, with grim satisfaction " I saw it done ! "
Mary shuddered.
" I saw it done ! " repeated Helmsley " And I think it
was rightly done! But I saw Tom himself die of grief
and madness with his dead child in his arms and that!
that broke something in my heart and brain and made
me think God was cruel ! "
She bent over him, and arranged his pillows more com-
fortably.
" I knew Tom," she said, presently, in a soft voice
" He was a wild creature, but very kind and good for all
that. Some folks said he had been born a gentleman, and
that a quarrel with his family had made him take to the
gypsy life but that's only a story. Anyway his little child
-' kiddie ' as it used to be called, was the dearest little
fellow in the world so playful and affectionate ! I don't
wonder Tom went mad when his one joy was killed ! And
you saw it all, you say ? "
" Yes, I saw it all ! " And Helmsley, with a faint sigh
half closed his eyes as he spoke " I was tramping from
202 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Watchett, and the motor passed me on my way, but I did
not see the child run over. I meant to get a lodging at
Blue Anchor and while I was having my supper at the
public house Tom came in, and and it was all over in
less than fifteen minutes! A horrible sight a horrible,
horrible sight ! I see it now ! I shall never forget it ! "
" Enough to make you ill, poor dear ! " said Mary, gently
" Don't think of it now ! Try and sleep a little. You
mustn't talk too much. Poor Tom is dead and buried now,
and his little child with him God rest them both! It's
better he should have died than lived without anyone to
love him in the world."
" That's true ! " And opening his eyes widely again,
he gazed full at her " That's the worst fate of all to live
in the world without anyone to love you ! Tell me when I
was delirious did I only talk of Tom o' the Gleam ? "
" That's the only person whose name you seemed to have
on your mind," she answered, smiling a little " But you
did make a great noise about money ! "
" Money ? " he echoed " I I made a noise about
money ? "
" Yes ! " And her smile deepened " Often at night you
quite startled me by shouting ' Money ! Money ! ' I'm sure
you've wanted it very badly ! "
He moved restlessly and avoided her gaze. Presently
he asked querulously:
" Where is my old vest with all my papers ? "
" It's just where I put it the night you came," she
answered " I haven't touched it. Don't you remember you
told me to keep the key of the cupboard which is right here
close to your bed? I've got it quite safe."
He turned his head round on the pillow and looked at her
with a sudden smile.
" Thank you ! You are very kind to me, Mary ! But you
must let me work off all I owe you as soon as I'm well."
She put one finger meditatively on her lips and surveyed
him with a whimsically indulgent air.
" Let you work it off ? Well, I don't mind that at all !
But a minute ago you were saying you must get up and go
on the tramp again. Now, if you want to work for me, you
must stay "
" I will stay till I have paid you my debt somehow ! " he
said " I'm old but I can do a few useful things yet."
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 203
" I'm sure you can ! " And she nodded cheerfully " And
you shall ! Now rest a while, and don't fret ! "
She went away from him then to fetch the little dog,
Charlie, who, now that his master was on the fair road to
complete recovery, was always brought in to amuse him
after tea. Charlie was full of exuberant life, and his gam-
bols over the bed where Helmsley lay, his comic interest
in the feathery end of his own tail, and his general intense
delight in the fact of his own existence, made him a merry
and affectionate little playmate. He had taken immensely
to his new home, and had attached himself to Mary Deane
with singular devotion, trotting after her everywhere as
close to her heels as possible. The fame of his beauty had
gone through the village, and many a small boy and girl
came timidly to the cottage door to try and " have a peep "
at the smallest dog ever seen in the neighbourhood, and cer-
tainly the prettiest.
" That little dawg be wurth twenty pun ! " said one of
the rustics to Mary, on one occasion when she was sitting
in her little garden, carefully brushing and combing the
silky coat of the little " toy " " Th'owd man thee's been
a' nussin' ought to give 'im to thee as a thank-offerin'."
" I wouldn't take him," Mary answered " He's perhaps
the only friend the poor old fellow has got in the world.
It would be just selfish of me to want him."
And so the time went on till it was past mid-September,
and there came a day, mild, warm, and full of the soft
subdued light of deepening autumn, when Mary told her
patient that he might get up, and sit in an arm-chair for a
few hours in the kitchen. She gave him this news when
she brought him his breakfast, and added
" I'll wrap you up in father's dressing gown, and you'll
be quite cosy and safe from chill. And after another week
you'll be so strong that you'll be able to dress yourself and
do without me altogether ! "
This phrase struck curiously on his ears. " Do with-
out her altogether ! " That would be strange indeed al-
most impossible ! It was quite early in the morning when
she thus spoke about seven o'clock, and he was not to
get up till noon," when the air was at its warmest, "said Mary
so he lay very quietly, thinking over every detail of the
position in which he found himself. He was now perfectly
aware that it was a position which opened up great possi-
204 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
bilities. Bis dream, the vague indefinable longing which
possessed him for love pure, disinterested, unselfish love,
seemed on the verge of coming true. Yet he would not
allow himself to hope too much, he preferred to look on
the darker side of probable disillusion. Meanwhile, he was
conscious of a sweetness and comfort in his life such as he
had never yet experienced. His thoughts dwelt with secret
pleasure on the open frankness and calm beauty of the face
that had bent over him with the watchfulness of a guardian
angel through so many days and nights of pain, delirium,
and dread of death, and he noted with critically observant
eyes the noiseless graceful movement of this humbly-born
"woman, whose instincts were so delicate and tender, whose
voice was so gentle, and whose whole bearing expressed such
unaffected dignity and purity of mind. On this particular
morning she was busy ironing; and she had left the door
open between his bedroom and the kitchen, so that he might
benefit by the inflow of fresh air from the garden, the cot-
tage door itself being likewise thrown back to allow a full
entrance of the invigorating influences of the light breeze
from the sea and the odours of the flowers. From his bed
he could see her slim back bent over the fine muslin frills
she was pressing out with such patient precision, and he
caught the glint of the sun on the rich twist of her bronze
brown hair. Presently he heard some one talking to her,
a woman evidently, whose voice was pitched in a plaintive
and almost querulous key.
" Well, Mis' Deane, say 'ow ye will an' what ye will,
there's a spider this very blessed instant a' crawlin' on the
bottom of the ironin' blanket, which is a sure sign as 'ow
yer washin' won't come to no good try iver so 'ard, for as
we all knows ' See a spider at morn, An' ye'll wish ye
wornt born : See a spider at night, An' yer wrongs'll come
right!" 1
Mary laughed; and Helmsley listened with a smile on
his own lips. She had such a pretty laugh, so low and
soft and musical.
" Oh, never mind the poor spider, Mrs. Twitt ! " she
said " Let it climb up the ironing blanket if it likes ! I
see dozens of spiders ' at morn/ and I've never in my life
wished I wasn't born! Why, if you go out in the garden
early, you're bound to see spiders ! "
"That's true that's Testymen true!" And the indi-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 205
vidual addressed as Mrs. Twitt, heaved a profound sigh
which was loud enough to flutter through the open door to
Helmsley's ears " Which, as I sez to Twitt often, shows
as 'ow we shouldn't iver tempt Providence. Spiders there
is, an' spiders there will be 'angin' on boughs an' 'edges,
frequent too in September, but we aint called upon to look
at 'em, only when the devil puts 'em out speshul to catch
the hi, an' then they means mischief. An' that' just what
'as 'appened this present minit, Mis' Deane, that spider
on yer ironin' blanket 'as caught my hi."
" I'm so sorry ! " said Mary, sweetly " But as long as
the spider doesn't bring you any ill-luck, Mrs. Twitt, I
don't mind for myself I don't, really ! "
Mrs. Twitt emitted an odd sound, much like the grunt
of a small and discontented pig.
" It's a reckless foot as don't mind precipeges," she re-
marked, solemnly " 'Owsomever, I've given ye fair warn-
in'. An' 'ow's yer father's friend ? "
" He's much better, quite out of danger now," replied
Mary " He's going to get up to-day."
" David's 'is name, so I 'ears," continued Mrs. Twitt ;
" I've never myself knowed anyone called David, but it's
a common name in some parts, speshul in Scripter. Is 'e
older than yer father would 'a bin if so be the Lord 'ad
carried 'im upright to this present ? "
" He seems a little older than father was when he died,"
answered Mary, in slow, thoughtful accents " But per-
haps it is only trouble and illness that makes him look so.
He's very gentle and kind. Indeed," here she paused for
a second then went on " I don't know whether it's be-
cause I've been nursing him so long and have got accus-
tomed to watch him and take care of him but I've reallj
grown quite fond of him ! "
Mrs. Twitt gave a short laugh.
" That's nat'ral, seein' as ye're lone in life without 'usband
or childer," she said " There's a many wimmin as 'ud
grow fond of an Aunt Sally on a pea-stick if they'd nothin'
else to set their 'arts on. An' as the old chap was yer
father's friend, there's bin a bit o' feelin' like in lookin'
arter 'im. But I wouldn't take 'im on my back as a burgin,
Mis' Deane, if I were you. Ye're far better off by yerself
with the washin' an' lace-mendin' business."
Mary was silent.
206 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" It's all very well," proceeded Mrs. Twitt " for 'im
to say 'e knew yer father, but arter all that mayn't be true.
The Lord knows whether 'e aint a 'scaped convick, or a
man as is grown 'oary-'edded with 'is own wickedness. An'
though 'e's feeble now an' wants all ye can give 'im, the
day may come when, bein' strong again, Vll take a knife
an' slit yer throat. Bein' a tramp like, it 'ud come easy to
'im an' not to be blamed, if we may go by what they sez
in the 'a'penny noospapers. I mind me well on the night
o' the storm, the very night ye went out on the 'ills an' found
'im, I was settin' at my door down shorewards watchin'
the waves an' hearin' the wind cryin' like a babe for its
mother, an' if ye'll believe me, there was a sea-gull as
came and flopped down on a stone just in front o' me!
a thing no sea-gull ever did to me all the time I've lived
'ere, which is thirty years since I married Twitt. There it
sat, drenched wi' the rain, an' Twitt came out in that slow,
silly way 'e 'as, an' 'e sez ' Poor bird ! 'Ungry, are ye ?
an' throws it a reg'lar full meal, which, if you believe me,
it ate all up as cool as a cowcumber. An' then "
" And then ? " queried Mary, with a mirthful quiver in
her voice.
" Then, oh, well, then it flew away," and Mrs. Twitt
seemed rather sorry for this common-place end to what
she imagined was a thrilling incident " But the way that
bird looked at me was somethin' awful ! An' when I 'eerd
as 'ow you'd found a friend o' yer father's a' trampin' an'
wanderin' an' 'ad took 'im in to board an' lodge on trust,
I sez to Twitt ' There you've got the meanin' o' that sea-
gull! A stranger in the village bringin' no good to the
'and as feeds 'im ! ' '
Mary's laughter rang out now like a little peal of bells.
" Dear Mrs. Twitt ! " she said " I know how good and
kind you are but you mustn't have any of your presenti-
ments about me ! I'm sure the poor sea-gull meant no
harm ! And I'm sure that poor old David won't ever hurt
me " Here she suddenly gave an exclamation " Why,
I forgot ! The door of his room has been open all this
time ! He must have heard us talking ! "
She made a hurried movement, and Helmsley diplomatic-
ally closed his eyes. She entered, and came softly up to
his bedside, and he felt that she stood there looking at him
intently. He could hardly forbear a smile ; but he man-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 207
aged to keep up a very creditable appearance of being fast
asleep, and she stole away again, drawing the door to be-
hind her. Thus, for the time being, he heard no more,
but he had gathered quite enough to know exactly how
matters stood with regard to his presence in her little
home.
" She has given out that I am an old friend of her
father's ! " he mused " And she has done that in order to
silence both inquiry and advice as to the propriety of her
having taken me under her shelter and protection. Kind
heart! Gentle soul! And what else did she say? That
she had ' really grown quite fond ' of me ! Can I dare I
believe that ? No ! it is a mere feminine phrase spoken
out of compassionate impulse. Fond of me ! In my ap-
parent condition of utter poverty, old, ill and useless, who
could or would be ' fond ' of me ! "
Yet he dwelt on the words with a kind of hope that nerved
and invigorated him, and when at noon Mary came and
assisted him to get up out of bed, he showed greater evi-
dence of strength than she had imagined would be possible.
True, his limbs ached sorely, and he was very feeble, for
even with the aid of a stick and the careful support of her
strong arm, his movements were tottering and uncertain,
and the few steps between his bedroom and the kitchen
seemed nearly a mile of exhausting distance. But the ef-
fort to walk did him good, and when he sank into the
arm-chair which had been placed ready for him near the
fire, he looked up with a smile and patted the gentle hand
that had guided him along so surely and firmly.
" I'm an old bag of bones ! " he said " Not much good
to myself or to any one else ! You'd better bundle me out
on the doorstep ! "
For an answer she brought him a little cup of nourish-
ing broth tastily prepared and bade him drink it " every
drop, mind ! " she told him with a little commanding nod.
He obeyed her, and when he gave her back the cup empty
he said, with a keen glance :
" So I am your father's friend, am I, Mary? "
The blood rushed to her cheeks in a crimson tide, she
looked at him appealingly, and her lips trembled a little.
" You were so very ill ! " she murmured " I was afraid
you might die, and I had to send for the only doctor we
have in the village Mr. Bunce, the boys call him Mr.
208 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Dunce, but that's their mischief, for he's really quite clever,
and I was bound to tell him something by way of intro-
ducing you and making him take care of you even even
if what I said wasn't quite true ! And and I made it
out to myself this way that if father had lived he would
have done just all he could for you, and then you would
have been his friend you couldn't have helped yourself ! "
He kept his eyes upon her as she spoke. He liked to see
the soft flitting of the colour to-and-fro in her face, her
skin was so clear and transparent, a physical reflection,
he thought, of the clear transparency of her mind.
"And who was your father, Mary?" he asked, gently.
" He was a gardener and florist," she answered, and
taking from the mantelshelf the photograph of the old man
smiling serenely amid a collection of dwarf and standard
roses, she showed it to him " Here he is, just as he was
taken after an exhibition where he won a prize. He was
so proud when he heard that the first prize for a dwarf
red rose had been awarded to James Deane of Barnstaple.
My dear old dad ! He was a good, good man he was in-
deed! He loved the flowers he used to say that they
thought and dreamed and hoped, just as we do and that
they had their wishes and loves and ambitions just as we
have. He had a very good business once in Barnstaple, and
every one respected him, but somehow he could not keep
up with the demands for new things ' social sensations in
the way of flowers,' he used to call them, and he failed at
last, through no fault of his own. We sold all we had to
pay the creditors, and then we came away from Barnstaple
into Somerset, and took this cottage. Father did a little
business in the village, and for some of the big houses round
about, not much, of course but I was always handy with
my needle, and by degrees I got a number of customers for
lace-mending and getting up ladies' fine lawn and muslin
gowns. So between us we made quite enough to live on
till he died." Her voice sank and she paused then she
added " I've lived alone here ever since."
He listened attentively.
" And that is all your history, Mary ? What of your
mother?" he asked.
Mary's eyes softened and grew wistful.
" Mother died when I was ten," she said " But though
I was so little, I remember her well. She was pretty oh,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 209
so very pretty ! Her hair was quite gold like the sun, and
her eyes were blue like the sea. Dad worshipped her,
and he never would say that she was dead. He liked to
think that she was always with him, and I daresay she
was. Indeed, I am sure she was, if true love can keep souls
together."
He was silent.
" Are you tired, David ? " she asked, with sudden anxiety,
" I'm afraid I'm talking too much ! "
He raised a hand in protest.
u No no ! I I love to hear you talk, Mary ! You have
been so good to me so more than kind that I'd like to
know all about you. But I've no right to ask you any ques-
tions you see I'm only an old, poor man, and I'm afraid
I shall never be able to do much in the way of paying you
back for all you've done for me. I used to be clever at
office work reading and writing and casting up accounts,
but my sight is failing and my hands tremble, so I'm
no good in that line. But whatever I can do for you, as
soon as I'm able, I will ! you may depend upon that ! "
She leaned towards him, smiling.
" I'll teach you basket-making," she said" Shall I ? "
His eyes lit up with a humorous sparkle.
" If I could learn it, should I be useful to you ? " he
asked.
" Why, of course you would ! Ever so useful ! Useful
to me and useful to yourself at the same time ! " And she
clapped her hands with pleasure at having thought of some-
thing easy upon which he could try his energies ; " Basket-
making pays well here, the farmers want baskets for their
fruit, and the fishermen want baskets for their fish, and its
really quite easy work. As soon as you're a bit stronger,
you shall begin and you'll be able to earn quite a nice
little penny ! "
He looked stedfastly into her radiant face.
" I'd like to earn enough to pay you back all the expense
you've been put to with me," he said, and his voice trem-
bled " But your patience and goodness that I can never
hope to pay for that's heavenly ! that's beyond all money's
worth "
He broke off and put his hand over his eyes. Mary
feigned not to notice his profound emotion, and, taking
up a paper parcel on the table, opened it, and unrolled a
210 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
long piece of wonderful old lace, yellow with age, and fine
as a cobweb.
" Do you mind my going on with my work ? " she asked,
[cheerily " I'm mending this for a Queen ! " And as he
took away his hand from his eyes, which were suspiciously
moist, and looked at her wonderingly, she nodded at him
in the most emphatic way. " Yes, truly, David ! for a
Queen ! Oh, it's not a Queen who is my direct employer
no Queen ever knows anything about me ! It's a great firm
in London that sends this to me to mend for a Queen they
trust me with it, because they know me. I've had lace
worth thousands of pounds in my hands, this piece is
valued at eight hundred, apart from its history it belonged
to Marie Louise, second wife of Napoleon the First. It's
a lovely bit ! but there are some cruel holes in it. Ah, dear
me*! " And, sitting down near the door, she bent her head
closely over the costly fabric " Queens don't think of the
eyes that have gone out in blindness doing this beautiful
work! or the hands that have tired and the hearts that
have broken over it ! They would never run pins into it
if they did ! "
He watched her sitting as she now was in the sunlight
that flooded the doorway, and tried to overcome the emo-
tional weakness that moved him to stretch out his arms to
her as though she were his daughter, to call her to his side,
and lay his hands on her head in blessing, and to beg her to
let him stay with her now and always until the end of his
days, an end which he instinctively felt could not be very
long in coming. But he realised enough of her character
to know that were he to give himself away, and declare his
real identity and position in the world of men, she would
probably not allow him to remain in her cottage for another
twenty-four hours. She would look at him with her candid
eyes, and express her honest regret that he had deceived
her, but he was certain that she would not accept a penny
of payment at his hands for anything she had done for
him, her simple familiar manner and way of speech would
change and he should lose her lose her altogether. And
he was nervously afraid just now to think of what her loss
might mean to him. He mastered his thoughts by an effort,
and presently, forcing a smile, said :
" You were ironing lace this morning, instead of mend-
ing it, weren't you, Mary ? "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 211
She looked up quickly.
" No, I wasn't ironing lace lace must never be ironed,
David ! It must all be pulled out carefully with the fingers,
and the pattern must be pricked out on a frame or a cushion,
with fine steel pins, just as if it were in the making. I
was ironing a beautiful muslin gown for a lady who buys
all her washing dresses in Paris. She couldn't get any one
in England to wash them properly till she found me. She
used to send them all away to a woman in Brittany before.
The French are wonderful washers, we're not a patch on
them over here. So you saw me ironing?"
" I could just catch a glimpse of you at work through
the door," he answered " and I heard you talking as
well "
"To Mrs. Twitt? Ah, I thought you did!" And she
laughed. " Well, I wish you could have seen her, as well
as heard her! She is the quaintest old soul! She's the
wife of a stonemason who lives at the bottom of the village,
near the shore. Almost everything that happens in the
day or the night is a sign of good or bad luck with her.
I expect it's because her husband makes so many tomb-
stones that she gets morbid, but, oh dear! if God man-
aged the world according to Mrs. Twitt's notions, what
a funny world it would be ! "
She laughed again, then shook her finger archly at him.
" You pretended to be asleep, then, when I came in to
see if you heard us talking?"
He nodded a smiling assent.
" That was very wrong of you ! You should never pre-
tend to be what you are not ! " He started nervously at
this, and to cover his confusion called to the little dog,
Charlie, who at once jumped up on his knees ; " You
shouldn't, really! Should he, Charlie?" Charlie sat up-
right, and lolled a small red tongue out between two rows
of tiny white teeth, by way of a laugh at the suggestion
" People even dogs are always found out when they do
that ! "
" What are those bright flowers out in your garden just
beyond the door where you are sitting?" Helmsley asked,
to change the conversation.
" Phloxes," she answered " I've got all kinds and col-
ours crimson, white, mauve, pink, and magenta. Those
which you can see from where you sit are the crimson ones
212 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
father's favourites. I wish you could get out and look
at the Virginian creeper it's lovely just now quite a blaze
of scarlet all over the cottage. And the Michaelmas daisies
are coming on finely."
" Michaelmas ! " he echoed " How late in the year it
is growing ! "
" Ay, that's true ! " she replied " Michaelmas means that
summer's past."
" And it was full summer when I started on my tramp
to Cornwall ! " he murmured.
" Never mind thinking about that just now," she said
quickly " You mustn't worry your head. Mr. Bunce says
you mustn't on any account worry your head."
" Mr. Bunce ! " he repeated wearily " What does Mr.
Bunce care ? "
" Mr. Bunce does care," averred Mary, warmly " Mr.
Bunce is a very good little man, and he says you are a
very gentle patient to deal with. He's done all he possibly
could for you, and he knows you've got no money to pay
him, and that I'm a poor woman, too but he's been in to
see you nearly every day so you must really think well
of Mr. Bunce."
" I do think well of him I am most grateful to him,"
said David humbly " But all the same it's you, Mary !
You even got me the attention of Mr. Bunce ! "
She smiled happily.
" You're feeling better, David ! " she declared " There's
a nice bright sparkle in your eyes! I should think you
were quite a cheerful old boy when you're well ! "
This suggestion amused him, and he laughed.
" I have tried to be cheerful in my time," he said
" though I've not had much to be cheerful about."
" Oh, that doesn't matter ! " she replied ! " Dad used
to say that whatever little we had to be thankful for, we
ought to make the most of it. It's easy to be glad when
everything is gladness, but when you've only got just a
tiny bit of joy in a whole wilderness of trouble, then we
can't be too grateful for that tiny bit of joy. At least, so I
take it."
" Where did you learn your philosophy, Mary ? " he asked,
half whimsically " I mean, who taught you to think ? "
She paused in her lace-mending, needle in hand.
"Who taught me to think! Well, I don't know! it
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 213
come natural to me. But I'm not what is called ' educated '
at all."
"Are you not?"
" No. I never learnt very much at school. I got the
lessons into my head as long as I had to patter them off
by heart like a parrot, but the teachers were all so dull
and prosy, and never took any real pains to explain things
to me, indeed, now when I come to think of it, I don't
believe they could explain ! they needed teaching them-
selves. Anyhow, as soon as I came away I forgot every-
thing but reading and writing and sums and began to
learn all over again with Dad. Dad made me read to him
every night all sorts of books."
" Had you a Free Library at Barnstaple ? "
" I don't know I never asked," she said " Father
hated ' lent ' books. He had a savings-box he used to
call it his ' book-box ' and he would always drop in every
spare penny he had for books till he'd got a few shillings,
and then he would buy what he called ' classics.' They're
all so cheap, you see. And by degrees we got Shakespeare
and Carlyle, and Emerson and Scott and Dickens, and nearly
all the poets ; when you go into the parlour you'll see quite
a nice bookcase there, full of books. It's much better to
have them like that for one's own, than wait turns at a
Free Library. I've read all Shakespeare at least twenty
times over." The garden-gate suddenly clicked open and
she turned her head. " Here's Mr. Bunce come to see
you."
Helmsley drew himself up a little in his chair as the vil-
lage doctor entered, and after exchanging a brief " Good-
morning ! " with Mary, approached him. The situation
was curious ; here was he, a multi-millionaire, who could
have paid the greatest specialists in the world for their
medical skill and attendance, under the supervision and
scrutiny of this simple herbalist, who, standing opposite
to him, bent a pair of kindly brown eyes enquiringly upon
his face.
" Up to-day, are we ? " said Mr. Bunce " That is well ;
that's very well! Better in ourselves, too, are we? Better
in ourselves?"
" I am much better," replied Helmsley " Very much
better! thanks to you and Miss Deane. You you have
both been very good to me."
214 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" That's well that's very well ! " And Mr. Bunce ap-
peared to ruminate, while Helmsley studied his face and
figure with greater appreciation than he had yet been able
to do. He had often seen this small dark man in the pauses
of his feverish delirium, often he had tried to answer his
gentle questions, often in the dim light of early morning
or late evening he had sought to discern his features, and
yet could make nothing clear as to their actual form, save
that their expression was kind. Now, as it seemed for the
first time, he saw Mr. Bunce as he was, small and wiry,
with a thin, clean-shaven face, deeply furrowed, broad
brows, and a pleasant look, the eyes especially, deep sunk
in the head though they were, had a steady tenderness in
them such as one sees in .the eyes of a brave St. Bernard
dog who has saved many lives.
" We must," said Mr. Bunce, after a long pause " be
careful. We have got out of bed, but we must not walk
much. The heart is weak we must avoid any strain upon
it. We must sit quiet."
Mary was listening attentively, and nodded her agree-
ment to this pronouncement.
" We must," proceeded Mr. Bunce, laboriously " sit
quiet. We may get up every day now, a little earlier each
time, remaining up a little later each time, but we must
sit quiet."
Again Mary nodded gravely. Helmsley looked quickly
from one to the other. A close observer might have seen
the glimmer of a smile through his fuzzy grey-white beard,
for his thoughts were very busy. He saw in Bunce an-
other subject whose disinterested honesty might be worth
dissecting.
" But, doctor " he began.
Mr. Bunce raised a hand.
" I'm not ' doctor,' my man ! " he said " have no degree
no qualification no diploma no anything whatever but
just a little, a very little common sense, yes! And I am
simply Bunce," and here a smile spread out all the furrows
in his face and lit up his eyes ; " Or, as the small boys call
me, Dunce ! "
" That's all very well, but you're a doctor to me," said
Helmsley " And you've been as much as any other doctor
could possibly be, I'm sure. But you tell me I must sit
quiet I don't see how I can do that. I was on the tramp
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 215
till I broke down, and I must go on the tramp again, I
can't be a burden on on "
He broke off, unable to find words to express himself.
But his inward eagerness to test the character and attributes
of the two human beings who had for the present constituted
themselves as his guardians, made him tremble violently.
And Mr. Bunce looked at him with the scrutinising air
of a connoisseur in the ailments of all and sundry.
" We are nervous," he pronounced " We are highly
nervous. And we are therefore not sure of ourselves. We
must be entirely sure of ourselves, unless we again wish to
lose ourselves. Now we presume that when ' on the tramp '
as we put it, we were looking for a friend. Is that not so ? "
Helmsley nodded.
" We were trying to find the house of the late Mr. James
Deane?"
Mary uttered a little sound that was half a sob and half
a sigh. Helmsley glanced at her with a reassuring smile,
and then replied steadily,
"That was so!"
" Our friend, Mr. Deane, unfortunately died some five
years since," proceeded Mr. Bunce, " And we found his
daughter, or rather, his daughter found us, instead. This
we may put down to an act of Providence. Now the only
thing we can do under the present circumstances is to re-
main with our late old friend's daughter, till we get well."
" But, doctor," exclaimed Helmsley, determined, if pos-
sible, to shake something selfish, commercial and common-
place out of this odd little man with the faithful canine
eyes " I can't be a burden on her ! I've got no money
I can't pay you for all your care! What you do for me,
you do for absolutely nothing nothing nothing! Don't
you understand ? "
His voice rang out with an almost rasping harshness,
and Mr. Bunce tapped his own forehead gently, but signifi-
cantly.
" We worry ourselves," he observed, placidly " We
imagine what does not exist. We think that Bunce is
sending in his bill. We should wait till the bill comes,
should we not, Miss Deane ? " He smiled, and Mary gave
a soft laugh of agreement " And while we wait for Bunce's
bill, we will also wait for Miss Deane's. And, in the mean-
time, we must sit quiet."
216 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
There was a moment's silence. Helmsley felt a smart-
ing moisture at the back of his eyes. He longed to pour
out all his history to these two simple unworldly souls,
to tell them that he was rich, rich beyond the furthest
dreams of their imagining, rich enough to weigh down
the light-hearted contentment of their lives with a burden of
gold, and yet yet he knew that if he spoke thus and con-
fessed himself, all the sweetness of the friendship which
was now so disinterested would be embittered and lost. He
thought, with a latent self-contempt and remorse, of certain
moods in which he had sometimes indulged, moods in
which he had cynically presumed that he could buy every-
thing in the world for money. Kings, thrones, govern-
ments, might be had for money, he knew, for he had often
purchased their good-will but Love was a jewel he had
never found in any market unpurchasable as God! And
while he yet inwardly mused on his position, Bunce bent over
him, and taking his thin wrinkled hand, patted it gently.
" Good-bye for the present, David ! " he said, kindly
" We are on the mend we are certainly on the mend !
We hope the ways of nature will be remedial and that
we shall pick up our strength before the winter fairly sets
in yes, we hope we certainly may hope for that "
" Mr. Bunce," said Helmsley, with sudden energy " God
bless you ! "
'CHAPTER XIV
THE time now went on peacefully, one day very much like
another, and Helmsley steadily improved in health and
strength, so far recovering some of his old vigour and
alertness as to be able to take a slow and halting daily walk
through the village, which, for present purposes shall be
called Weircombe. The more he saw of the place, the
more he loved it, and the more he was enchanted with its
picturesque position. In itself it was a mere cluster of little
houses, dotted about on either side of a great cleft in the
rocks through which a clear mountain stream tumbled to
the sea, but the houses were covered from basement to
roof with clambering plants and flowers, especially the wild
fuschia, which, with one or two later kinds of clematis and
" morning glory " convolvolus, were still in brilliant bloom
when the mellow days of October began to close in to the
month's end. All the cottages in the " coombe " were pretty,
but to Helmsley 's mind Mary Deane's was the prettiest,
perched as it was on a height overlooking the whole village
and near to the tiny church, which crowned the hill with a
little tower rising heavenward. The view of the ocean
from Weircombe was very wide and grand, on sunny days
it was like an endless plain of quivering turquoise-blue, with
white foam-roses climbing up here and there to fall and
vanish again, and when the wind was high, it was like
an onward sweeping array of Titanic shapes clothed in silver
armour and crested with snowy plumes, all rushing in a
wild charge against the shore, with such a clatter and roar
as often echoed for miles inland. To make his way gradu-
ally down through the one little roughly cobbled street to
the very edge of the sea, was one of Helmsley's greatest
pleasures, and he soon got to know most of the Weircombe
folk, while they in their turn, grew accustomed to seeing
him about among them, and treated him with a kindly fa-
miliarity, almost as if he were one of themselves. And
his new lease of life was, to himself, singularly happy. He
enjoyed every moment' of it, every little incident was a
novel experience, and he was never tired of studying the
different characters he met, especially and above all the
217 *
218 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
character of the woman whose house was, for the time
being, his home, and who treated with him all the care and
solicitude that a daughter might show to her father. And
he was learning what might be called a trade or a craft,
which fact interested and amused him. He who had
moved the great wheel of many trades at a mere touch of
his finger, was now docilely studying the art of basket-
making, and training his unaccustomed hands to the bend-
ing of withes and osiers, he whose deftly-laid financial
schemes had held the money-markets of the world in sus-
pense, was now patiently mastering the technical business
of forming a " slath," and fathoming the mysteries of
" scalluming." Like an obedient child at school he implic-
itly followed the instructions of his teacher, Mary, who with
the first basket he completed went out and effected a sale
as she said " for fourpence," though really for twopence.
" And good pay, too ! " she said, cheerfully " It's not
often one gets so much for a first make."
" That fourpence is yours," said Helmsley, smiling at
her " You've the right to all my earnings ! "
She looked serious.
" Would you like me to keep it ? " she asked " I mean,
would it please you if I did, would you feel more content? "
" I should you know I should ! " he replied earnestly.
" All right, then ! I'll check it off your account ! " And
laughing merrily, she patted his head as he sat bending
over another specimen of his basket manufacture " At
any rate, you're not getting bald over your work, David!
I never saw such beautiful white hair as yours ! "
He glanced up at her.
" May I say, in answer to that, that I never saw such
beautiful brown hair as yours ? "
She nodded.
" Oh, yes, you may say it, because I know it's true. My
hair is my one beauty, see ! "
And pulling out two small curved combs, she let the
whole wealth of her tresses unwind and fall. Her hair
dropped below her knees in a glorious mass of colour like
that of a brown autumn leaf with the sun just glistening on
it. She caught it up in one hand and knotted it all again
at the back of her head in a minute.
" It's lovely, isn't it ? " she said, quite simply " I should
think it lovely if I saw it on anybody else's head, or cut
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 219
off hanging in a hair-dresser's shop window. I don't ad-
mire it because it's mine, you know ! I admire it as hair
merely."
" Hair merely yes, I see ! " And he bent and twisted
the osiers in his hands with a sudden vigour that almost
snapped them. He was thinking of certain women he had
known in London women whose tresses, dyed, waved,
crimped and rolled over fantastically shaped " frames," had
moved him to positive repulsion, so much so that he would
rather have touched the skin of a dead rat than laid a
finger on the tinted stuff called " hair " by these feminine
hypocrites of fashion. He had so long been accustomed to
shams that the open sincerity of the Weircombe villagers
was almost confusing to his mind. Nobody seemed to have
anything to conceal. Everybody knew, or seemed to know,
all about everybody else's business. There were no bye-
roads or corners in Weircombe. There was only one
way out, to the sea. Height at the one end, width and
depth at the other. It seemed useless to have any secrets.
He, David Helmsley, felt himself to be singular and apart,
in that he had his own hidden mystery. He often found
himself getting restless under the quiet observation of Mr.
Bunce's eye, yet Mr. Bunce had no suspicions of him what-
ever. Mr. Bunce merely watched him " professionally,"
and with the kindest intention. In fact, he and Bunce be-
came great friends. Bunce had entirely accepted the story
he told about himself to the effect that he had once been
" in an office in the city," and looked upon him as a super-
annuated bank clerk, too old to be kept on in his former
line of business. Questions that were put to him respect-
ing his " late friend, James Deane," he answered with ap-
parent good faith by saying that it was a long time since
he had seen him, and that it was only as a " last forlorn
hope " that he had set out to try and find him, " as he had
always been helpful to those in need." Mary herself wished
that this little fiction of her " father's friend " should be
taken as fact by all the village, and a curious part of her
character was that she never sought to ask Helmsley pri-
vately, for her own enlightenment, anything of his history.
She seemed content to accept him as an old and infirm
man, who must be taken care of simply because he was old
and infirm, without further question or argument. Bunce
was always very stedfast in his praise of her.
220 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" She ought yes she ought possibly to have mar-
ried, " he said, in his slow, reflective way " She would
have made a good wife, and a still better mother. But an
all-wise Providence has a remarkable habit yes, I think
we may call it quite a remarkable habit ! of persuading
men generally to choose thriftless and flighty women for
their wives, and to leave the capable ones single. That is
so. Or in Miss Deane's case it may be an illustration of
the statement that ' Mary hath chosen the better part.'
Certainly when either men or women are happy in a state
of single blessedness, a reference to the Seventh Chapter
of the Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians, will strengthen
their minds and considerably assist them to remain in that
condition."
Thus Bunce would express himself, with a weighty air
as of having given some vastly important and legal pro-
nouncement. And when Helmsley suggested that it was
possible Mary might yet marry, he shook his head in a
strongly expressed negative.
" No, David no ! " he said " She is what we call
yes, I think we call it an old maid. This is not a kind
term, perhaps, but it is a true one. She is, I believe, in her
thirty-fifth year, a settled and mature woman. No man
would take her unless she had a little money enough, let
us say, to help him set up a farm. For if a man takes youth
to his bosom, he does not always mind poverty, but if he
cannot have youth he always wants money. Always ! There
is no middle course. Now our good Miss Deane will never
have any money. And. even if she had, we may take it
yes, I certainly think we may take it that she would not
care to buy a husband. No no! Her marrying days are
past. "
" She is a beautiful woman ! " said Helmsley, quietly.
" You think so ? Well, well, David ! We have got used to
her in Weircombe, she seems to be a part of the village.
When one is familiar with a person, one often fails to per-
ceive the beauty that is apparent to a stranger. I believe
this to be so I believe, in general, we may take it to be so."
And such was the impression that most of the Weir-
combe folks had about Mary that she was just " a part of
the village." During his slow ramblings about the little
sequestered place, Helmsley talked to many of the cottagers,
who all treated him with that good-humour and tolerance
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 221
which they considered due to his age and feebleness. Young
men gave him a ready hand if they saw him inclined to
falter or to stumble over rough places in the stony street,
little children ran up to him with the flowers they had
gathered on the hills, or the shells they had collected from
the drift on the shore women smiled at him from their
open doors and windows girls called to him the " Good
morning ! " or " Good-night ! " and by and by he was al-
most affectionately known as " Old David, who makes bas-
kets up at Miss Deane's." One of his favourite haunts was
the very end of the " coombe," which, sharply cutting
down to the shore, seemed there to have split asunder
with volcanic force, hurling itself apart to right and left
in two great castellated rocks, which were piled up, fortress-
like, to an altitude of about four hundred or more feet, and
looked sheer down over the sea. When the tide was high
the waves rushed swirlingly round the base of these natural
towers, forming a deep blackish-purple pool in which the
wash to and fro of pale rose and deep magenta seaweed,
flecked with trails of pale grassy green, were like the col-
ours of a stormy sunset reflected in a prism. The sounds
made here by the inflowing and outgoing of the waves were
curiously musical, like the thudding of a great organ, with
harp melodies floating above the stronger bass, while every
now and then a sweet sonorous call, like that of a silver
trumpet, swung from the cavernous depths into clear space
and echoed high up in the air, dying lingeringly away across
the hills. Near this split of the " coombe " stood the very
last house at the bottom of the village, built of white stone
and neatly thatched, with a garden running to the edge of
the mountain stream, which at this point rattled its way
down to the sea with that usual tendency to haste exhibited
by everything in life and nature when coming to an end.
A small square board nailed above the door bore the in-
scription legibiy painted in plain black letters:
ABEL TWITT,
Stone Mason,
N. B. Good Grave- Work Guaranteed.
The author of this device, and the owner of the dwell-
ing, was a round, rosy-faced little man, with shrewd spar-
kling grey eyes, a pleasant smile, and a very sociable man-
ner. He was the great " gossip " of the place ; no old
222 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
woman at a wash-tub or behind a tea-tray ever wagged
her tongue more persistently over the concerns of he and
she and you and they, than Abel Twitt. He had a leisurely
way of talking, a " slow and silly way " his wife called it,
but he managed to convey a good deal of information con-
cerning everybody and everything, whether right or wrong,
in a very few sentences. He was renowned in the village for
his wonderful ability in the composition of epitaphs, and by
some of his friends he was called " Weircombe's Pote Lorit."
One of his most celebrated couplets was the following:
" This Life while I lived it, was Painful and seldom Victorious,
I trust in the Lord that the next will be Pleasant and Glorious! "
Everybody said that no one but Abel Twitt could have
thought of such grand words and good rhymes. Abel
himself was not altogether without a certain gentle con-
sciousness that in this particular effort he had done well.
But he had no literary vanity.
" It comes nat'ral to me," he modestly declared " It's
a God's gift which I takes thankful without pride."
Helmsley had become very intimate with both Mr. and
Mrs. Twitt. In his every-day ramble down to the ocean
end of the " coombe " he often took a rest of ten minutes
or a quarter of an hour at Twitt's house before climbing
up the stony street again to Mary Deane's cottage, and Mrs.
Twitt, in her turn, was a constant caller on Mary, to whom
she brought all the news of the village, all the latest reme-
dies for every sort of ailment, and all the oddest supersti-
tions and omens which she could either remember or in-
vent concerning every incident that had occurred to her
or to her neighbours within the last twenty-four hours.
There was no real morbidity of character in Mrs. Twitt;
she only had that peculiar turn of mind which is found quite
as frequently in the educated as in the ignorant, and which
perceives a divine or a devilish meaning in almost every
trifling occurrence of daily life. A pin on the ground which
was not picked up at the very instant it was perceived, meant
terrible ill-luck to Mrs. Twitt, if a cat sneezed, it was a
sign that there was going to be sickness in the village, and
she always carried in her pocket " a bit of coffin " to keep
away the' cramp. She also had a limitless faith in the power
of cursing, and she believed most implicitly in the fiendish
abilities of a certain person, (whether male or female, she
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 223
did not explain) whose address she gave vaguely as, " out
on the hills," and who, if requested, and paid for the trouble,
would put a stick into the ground, muttering a mysterious
malison on any man or woman you chose to name as an
enemy, with the pronounced guarantee:
" As this stick rotteth to decay,
So shall (Mr, Miss or Mrs So-and-so) rot away!"
But with the exception of these little weaknesses, Mrs.
Twitt was a good sort of motherly old body, warm-hearted
and cheerful, too, despite her belief in omens. She had
taken quite a liking to " old David " as she called him, and
used to watch his thin frail figure, now since his illness
sadly bent, jogging slowly down the street towards the sea,
with much kindly solicitude. For despite Mr. Bunce's
recommendation that he should " sit quiet," Helmsley could
not bring himself to the passively restful condition of weak
and resigned old age. He had too much on his mind for
that. He worked patiently every morning at basket-making,
in which he was quickly becoming an adept ; but in the af-
ternoon he grew restless, and Mary, seeing it was better
for him to walk as long as walking was possible to him,
let him go out when he fancied it, though always with a
little anxiety for him lest he should meet with some acci-
dent. In this anxiety, however, all the neighbours took a
share, so that he was well watched, and more carefully
guarded than he knew, on his way down to the shore and
back again, Abel Twitt himself often giving him an arm
on the upward climb home.
" You'll have to do some of that for me soon ! " said
Helmsley on one of these occasions, pointing up with his
stick at the board over Twitt's door, which said " Good
Grave-Work Guaranteed : "
Twitt rolled his eyes slowly up in the direction indicated,
smiled, and rolled them down again.
" So I will, so I will ! " he replied cheerfully" An I'll
charge ye nothin' either. I'll make ye as pretty a little stone
as iver ye saw what'll last too! ay, last till th' Almighty
comes a' tearin' down in clouds o' glory. A stone well
bedded in, ye unnerstan'? one as'll stay upright no slop
work. An' if ye can't think of a hepitaph for yerself I'll
write one for ye there now! Bible texes is goin' out o'
fashion it's best to 'ave somethin' orig'nal an' for orig-
224, THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
inality I don't think I can be beat in these parts. I'll do ye
yer hepitaph with pleasure ! "
" That will be kind ! " And Helmsley smiled a little sadly
" What will you say of me when I'm gone? "
Twitt looked at him thoughtfully, with his head very
much on one side.
" Well, ye see, I don't know yer history," he said
" But I considers ye 'armless an' unfortunate. I'd 'ave to
make it out in my own mind like. Now Timbs, the grocer
an' 'aberdashery man, when 'is wife died, he wouldn't let
me 'ave my own way about the moniment at all. ' Put 'er
down,' sez 'e ' Put 'er down as the Dearly-Beloved Wife
of Samuel Timbs.' ' Now, Timbs,' sez I ' don't ye go
foolin' with 'ell-fire! Ye know she wor'nt yer Dearly Be-
loved, forbye that she used to throw wet dish-clouts at yer
'ed, screechin' at ye for all she was wuth, an' there ain't
no Dearly Beloved in that. Why do ye want to put a lie
on a stone for the Lord to read ? ' But 'e was as obst'nate
as pigs. ' Dish-clouts or no dish-clouts/ sez 'e, ' I'll 'ave
'er fixed up proper as my Dearly-Beloved Wife for sight
o' parson an' neighbours.' ' Ah, Sam ! ' sez I ' I've got
ye! It's for parson an' neighbours ye want the hepitaph,
an' not for the Lord at all ! Well, I'll do it if so be yer wish
it, but I won't take the 'sponsibility of it at the Day o'
Judgment.' ' I don't want ye to ' sez 'e, quite peart.
'I'll take it myself!' An' if ye'll believe me, David, 'e
sits down an' writes me what 'e calls a ' Memo ' of what
'e wants put on the grave stone, an' it's the biggest whopper
I've iver seen out o' the noospapers. I've got it 'ere "
And, referring to a much worn and battered old leather
pocket-book, Twitt drew from it a soiled piece of paper,
and read as follows
Here lies
All that is Mortal
of
CATHERINE TIMBS
The Dearly Beloved Wife
of
Samuel Timbs of Weircombe.
She Died
At the Early Age of Forty-Nine
Full of Virtues and Excellencies
Which those who knew Her
Deeply Deplore
. a "^
NOW is in Heaven.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 225
"And the only true thing about that hepitaph," con-
tinued Twitt, folding up the paper again and returning it
to its former receptacle, " is the words ' Here Lies.' "
Helmsley laughed, and Twitt laughed with him.
" Some folks 'as the curiousest ways o' wantin' their-
selves remembered arter they're gone " he went on " An'
others seems as if they don't care for no mem'ry at all 'cept
in the 'arts o' their friends. Now there was Tom o' the
Gleam, a kind o' gypsy rover in these parts, 'im as mur-
dered a lord down at Blue Anchor this very year's July "
Helmsley drew a quick breath.
" I know ! " he said" I was there ! "
" So I've 'eerd say," responded Twitt sympathetically
" An' an awsome sight it must a' bin for ye ! Mary
Deane told us as 'ow ye'd bin ravin' about Tom an'
m'appen likely it give ye a turn towards yer long sickness."
" I was there," said Helmsley, shuddering at the rec-
ollection " 1 had stopped on the road to try and get a
cheap night's lodging at the very inn where the murder took
place but but there were two murders that day, and the
first one was the worst ! "
" That's what I said at the time, an' that's what I've allus
thought ! "declared Twitt " Why that little 'Kiddie'
child o' Tom's was the playfullest, prettiest little rogue ye'd
see in a hundred mile or more ! 'Oldin' out a posy o'
flowers to a motor-car, poor little innercent! It might as
well 'ave 'eld out flowers to the devil ! though my own
opinion is as the devil 'imself wouldn't 'a ridden down a
child. But a motorin' lord o' these days is neither ipan nor
beast nor devil, Vs a somethin' altogether owhuman on-
human out an' out, a thing wi' goggles over his eyes an'
no 'art in his body, which we aint iver seen in this poor old
world afore. Thanks be to the Lord no motors can ever
come into Weircombe, they tears round an' round by an-
other road, an' we neither sees, 'ears, nor smells 'em, for
which I often sez to my wife ' O be joyful in the Lord all
ye lands ; serve the Lord with gladness an' come before His
presence with a song ! ' An' she ups an' sez ' Don't be
blaspheemous, Twitt, I'll tell parson ' an' I sez ' Tell 'im,
old 'ooman, if ye likes ! ' An' when she tells 'im, 'e smiles
nice an' kind, an' sez ' It's quite lawful, Mrs. Twitt, to
quote Scriptural thanksgiving on all necessary occasions ! '
E's a good little chap, our parson, but 'e's that weak on his
226 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
chest an' ailing that 'e's goin' away this year to Madeira for
rest and warm an' a blessid old Timp'rance raskill's coming
to take dooty in 'is place. Ah ! none of us Weircombe folk
'ill be very reg'lar church-goers while Mr. Arbroath's here."
Helmsley started slightly.
"Arbroath? I've seen that man."
" 'Ave ye ? Well, ye 'aven't seen no beauty ! " And
Twitt gave vent to a chuckling laugh " 'E'll be startin' 'is
'Igh Jink purcessions an' vestiments in our plain little church
up yonder, an' by the Lord, 'e'll 'ave to purcess an' vestiment
by 'isself, for Weircombe wont 'elp 'im. We aint none of us
'Igh Jink folks."
" Is that your name for High Church ? " asked Helmsley,
amused.
" It is so, an' a very good name it be," declared Twitt,
stoutly " For if all the bobbins' an' scrapins' an' crosses
an' banners aint a sort o' jinkin' Lord Mayor's show, then
what be they? It's fair oaffish to bob to the east as them
'Igh Jinkers does, for we aint never told in the Gospels that
th' Almighty 'olds that partikler quarter o' the wind as a
place o' residence. The Lord's everywhere, east, west,
north, south, why he's with us at this very minute ! " and
Twitt raised his eyes piously to the heavens " He's 'elpin'
you an' me to draw the breath through our lungs for if He
didn't 'elp, we couldn't do it, that's certain. An' if He makes
the sun to rise in the east, He makes it to sink in the west, an'
there's no choice either way, an' we sez our prayers simple
both times o' day, not to the sun at all, but to the Maker o'
the sun, an' of everything else as we sees. No, no ! no Tgh
Jinks for me ! I don't want to bow to no East when I sees
the Lord's no more east than He's west, an' no more in either
place than He is here, close to me an' doin' more for me than
I could iver do for myself. 'Igh Jinks is unchristin, as
unchristin as cremation, an' nothin's more unchristin than
that!"
" Why, what makes you think so ? " asked Helmsley,
surprised.
" What makes me think so ? " And Twitt drew himself
up with a kind of reproachful dignity " Now, old David,
don't go for to say as you don't think so too ? "
" Cremation unchristian ? Well, I can't say I've ever
thought of it in that light, it's supposed to be the cleanest
way of getting rid of the dead "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 227
" Gettin' rid of the dead! " echoed Twitt, almost scorn-
fully " That's what ye can never do ! They'se everywhere,
all about us, if we only had strong eyes enough to see 'em.
An' cremation aint Christin. I'll tell ye for why," here he
bent forward and tapped his two middle fingers slowly on
Helmsley's chest to give weight to his words " Look y'ere !
Supposin' our Lord's body 'ad been cremated, where would
us all a' bin ? Where would a' bin our
