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 ' sure an* certain
'ope ' o' the resurrection ? "
Helmsley was quite taken aback by this sudden proposi-
tion, which presented cremation in an entirely new light.
But a moment's thought restored to him his old love of argu-
ment, and he at once replied :
" Why, it would have been just the same as it is now,
surely! If Christ was divine, he could have risen from
burnt ashes as well as from a tomb."
" Out of a hurn ? " demanded Twitt, persistently " If our
Lord's body 'ad bin burnt an' put in a hurn, an' the hurn 'ad
bin took into the 'ouse o' Pontis Pilate, an' sealed, an' kept
till now? Eh? What d'ye say to that? I tell ye, David,
there wouldn't a bin no savin' grace o' Christ'anity at all!
An' that's why I sez cremation is unchristin, it's blaspheem-
ous an' 'eethen. For our Lord plainly said to 'is disciples
arter he came out o' the tomb ' Behold my hands and my
feet, handle me and see,' an' to the doubtin' Thomas He
said ' Reach hither thy hand and thrust it into my side, and
be not faithless but believing.' David, you mark my words !
them as 'as their bodies burnt in crematorums is just as
dirty in their souls as they can be, an' they 'opes to burn all
the blackness o' theirselves into nothingness an' never to rise
no more, 'cos they'se afraid! They don't want to be laid
in good old mother earth, which is the warm forcin' place o'
the Lord for raisin' up 'uman souls as He raises up the blos-
soms in spring, an' all other things which do give Him grate-
ful praise an' thanksgivin' ! They gits theirselves burnt to
ashes 'cos they don't want to be raised up, they'se never
praised the Lord 'ere, an' they wouldn't know 'ow to do it
there! But, mercy me!" concluded Twitt ruminatingly,
" I've seen orful queer things bred out of ashes ! beetles an'
sich like reptiles, an' I wouldn't much care to see the
spechul stock as raises itself from the burnt bits of a liar! "
Helmsley hardly knew whether to smile or to look serious,
such quaint propositions as this old stonemason put for-
228 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ward on the subject of cremation were utterly novel to his
experience. And while he yet stood under the little porch
of Twitt's cottage, there came shivering up through the quiet
autumnal air a slow thud of breaking waves.
" Tide's comin' in," said Twitt, after listening a minute
or two "An' that minds me o' what I was goin' to tell ye
about Tom o' the Gleam. After the inkwist, the gypsies
came forward an' claimed the bodies o' Tom an' 'is Kiddie,
an' they was buried accordin' to Tom's own wish, which it
seems 'e'd told one of 'is gypsy pals to see as was carried out
whenever an' wheresoever 'e died. An' what sort of a
buryin' d'ye think 'e 'ad?"
Helmsley shook his head in an expressed inability to
imagine.
" Twas out there," and Twitt pointed with one hand to
the shining expanse of the ocean " The gypsies put 'im an'
is Kiddie in a basket coffin which they made theirselves, an'
covered it all over wi' garlands o' flowers an' green boughs,
an' then fastened four great lumps o' lead to the four cor-
ners, an' rowed it out in a boat to about four or five miles
from the shore, right near to the place where the moon at
full ' makes a hole in the middle o' the sea,' as the children
sez, and there they dropped it into the water. Then they
sang a funeral song an' by the Lord! the sound o' that
song crept into yer veins an' made yer blood run cold!
'twas enough to break a man's 'art, let alone a woman's, to
'ear them gypsy voices all in a chorus wailin' a farewell to
the man an' the child in the sea, an' the song floated up an'
about, 'ere an' there an' everywhere, all over the land from
Cleeve Abbey onnards, an' at Blue Anchor, so they sez, it
was so awsome an' eerie that the people got out o' their beds,
shiverin', an' opened their windows to listen, an' when they
listened they all fell a cryin' like children. An' it's no won-
der the inn where poor Tom did his bad deed and died his
bad death, is shut up for good, an' the people as kept it gone
away no one couldn't stay there arter that. Ay, ay ! " and
Twitt sighed profoundly " Poor wild ne'er-do-weel Tom !
He lies deep down enough now with the waves flpwin' over
'im an' 'is little ' Kiddie ' clasped tight in 'is arms. For
they never separated 'em, death 'ad locked 'em up too fast
together for that. An' they're sleepin' peaceful, an' there
they'll sleep till till ' the sea gives up its dead.' "
Helmsley could not speak, he was too deeply moved.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 229
The sound of the in-coming tide grew fuller and more sonor-
ous, and Twitt presently turned to look critically at the heav-
ing waters.
" There's a cry in the sea to-day," he said, " M'appen
it'll be rough to-night."
They were silent again, till presently Helmsley roused him-
self from the brief melancholy abstraction into which he had
been plunged by the story of Tom o' the Gleam's funeral.
" I think I'll gp down on the shore for a bit," he said ;
" I like to get as close to the waves as I can when they're
rolling in."
" Well, don't get too close," said Twitt, kindly" We'll
be havin' ye washed away if ye don't take care! There's
onny an hour to tea-time, an' Mary Deane's a punctooal
'ooman ! "
" I shall not keep her waiting never fear ! " and Helms-
ley smiled as he said good-day, and jogged slowly along his
favourite accustomed path to the beach. The way though
rough, was not very steep, and it was becoming quite easy
and familiar to him. He soon found himself on the firm
brown sand sprinkled with a fringe of sea-weed and shells,
and further adorned in various places with great rough
boulders, picturesquely set up on end, like the naturally hewn
memorials of great heroes passed away. Here, the ground
being level, he could walk more quickly and with greater
comfort than in the one little precipitous street of Weir-
combe, and he paced up and down, looking at the rising and
falling hollows of the sea with wistful eyes that in their grow-
ing age and dimness had an intensely pathetic expression,
the expression one sometimes sees in the eyes of a dog who
knows that its master is leaving it for an indefinite period.
" What a strange chaos of brain must be that of the
suicide ! " he thought " Who, that can breathe the fresh air
and watch the lights and shadows in the sky and on the
waves, would really wish to leave the world, unless the mind
had completely lost its balance! We have never seen any-
thing more beautiful than this planet upon which we are
born, though there is a sub-consciousness in us which
prophesies of yet greater beauty awaiting higher vision.
The sub-conscious self! That is the scientist's new name
for the Soul, but the Soul is a better term. Now my sub-
conscious self my Soul, is lamenting the fact that it must
leave life when it has just begun to learn how to live! ]
should like to be here and see what Mary will do when
when I am gone! Yet how do I know but that in very
truth I shall be here? or in some way be made aware of
her actions? She has a character such as I never thought
to find in any mortal woman, strong, pure, tender, and
sincere! ah, that sincerity of hers is like the very sun-
light ! so bright and warm, and clean of all ulterior motive !
And measured by a worldly estimate only what is she?
The daughter of a humble florist, herself a mere mender of
lace, and laundress of fine ladies' linen! And her sweet
and honest eyes have never looked upon that rag-fair of
nonsense we call * society ' ; she never thinks of riches :
and yet she has refined and artistic taste enough to love the
lace she mends, just for pure admiration of its beauty, not
because she herself desires to wear it, but because it repre-
sents the work and lives of others, and because it is in itself
a miracle of design. I wonder if she ever notices how
closely I watch her ! I could draw from memory the shapely
outline of her hand, a white, smooth, well-kept hand, never
allowed to remain soiled by all her various forms of domestic
labour, an expressive hand, indicating health and sanity,
with that deep curve at the wrist, and the delicately shaped
fingers which hold the needle so lightly and guide it so deftly
through the intricacies of the riven lace, weaving a web of
such fairy-like stitches that the original texture seems never
to have been broken. I have sat quiet for an hour or more
studying her when she has thought me asleep in my chair by
the fire, and I have fancied that my life is something like
the damaged fabric she is so carefully repairing, holes
and rents everywhere, all the symmetry of design drop-
ping to pieces, the little garlands of roses and laurels
snapped asunder, and she, with her beautiful white hands
is gently drawing the threads together and mending it, for
what purpose ? to what end ? "
And here the involuntary action of some little brain-cell
gave him the memory of certain lines in Browning's " Rabbi
Ben Ezra " :
" Therefore I summon age
To grant youth's heritage
Life's struggle having so far reached its term;
Thence shall I pass, approved
A man, for aye removed
From the developed brute; a god, though in the germ.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 231
And I shall thereupon
Take rest ere I be' gone
Once more on my adventures brave and new
Fearless and unperplexed
When I wage battle next,
What weapons to select, what armour to indue ! "
He turned his eyes again to the sea just as a lovely light,
pale golden and clear as topaz, opened suddenly in the sky,
shedding a shower of luminant reflections on the waves. He
drew a deep breath, and unconsciously straightened himself.
" When death comes it shall find me ready ! " he said, half
aloud ; and then stood, confronting the ethereal glory.
The waves rolled in slowly and majestically one after the
other, and broke at his feet in long wreaths of creamy foam,
and presently one or two light gusts of a rather chill wind
warned him that he had best be returning homeward. While
he yet hesitated, a leaf of paper blew towards him, and
danced about like a large erratic butterfly, finally dropping
just where the stick on which he leaned made a hole in the
sand. He stooped and picked it up. It was covered with
fine small handwriting, and before he could make any at-
tempt to read it, a man sprang up from behind one of the
rocky boulders close by, and hurried forward, raising his
Cap as he came.
" That's mine ! " he said, quickly, with a pleasant smile
" It's a loose page from my note-book. Thank-you so much
for saving it ! "
Helmsley gave him the paper at once, with a courteous
inclination of the head.
" I've been scribbling down here all day," proceeded the
new comer "And there's not been much wind till now.
But " and he glanced up and about him critically ; " I think
we shall have a puff of sou'wester to-night."
Helmsley looked at him with interest. He was a man of
distinctive appearance, tall, well-knit, and muscular, with
a fine intellectual face and keen clear grey eyes. Not a very
young man ; he seemed about thirty-eight or forty, perhaps
more, for his dark hair was fairly sprinkled with silver. But
his manner was irresistibly bright and genial, and it was im-
possible to meet his frank, open, almost boyish gaze, without
a desire to know more of him, and an inclination to like him.
" Do you make the sea-shore your study ? " asked Helms-
232 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ley, with a slight gesture towards the note-book into which
the stranger was now carefully putting the strayed leaflet.
" Pretty much so ! " and he laughed " I've only got one
room to live in and it has to serve for both sleeping and
eating so I come out here to breathe and expand a bit."
He paused, and then added gently " May I give you my
arm up to Miss Deane's cottage ? "
" Why, how do you know I live there ? " and Helmsley
smiled as he put the question.
" Oh, well, all the village knows that ! and though I'm
quite new to the village I've only been here a week I know
it too. You're old David, the basketmaker, aren't you ? "
" Yes." And Helmsley nodded emphatically " That's
me!"
" Then I know all about you ! My name's Angus Reay.
I'm a Scotchman, I am, or rather, I -was a journalist, and
as poor as Job ! That's me ! Come along ! "
The cheery magnetism of his voice and look attracted
Helmsley, and almost before he knew it he was leaning on
this new friend's arm, chatting with him concerning the
village, the scenery, and the weather, in the easiest way
possible.
" I came on here from Minehead," said Reay " That
was too expensive a place for me ! " And a bright smile
flashed from lips to eyes with an irresistible sunny effect ;
" I've got just twenty pounds in the world, and I must make
it last me a year. For room, food, fuel, clothes, drink and
smoke ! I've promptly cut off the last two ! "
"And you're none the worse for it, I daresay ! " rejoined
Helmsley.
" Not a bit ! A good deal the better. In Fleet Street the
men drank and smoked pretty heavily, and I had to drink
and smoke with them, if I wanted to keep in with the lot.
I did want to keep in with them, and yet I didn't. It was a
case of ' needs must when the devil drives ! ' :
" You say you were a journalist. Aren't you one now? "
"No. I'm 'kicked off ' ! " And Reay threw back his
head and laughed joyously. " ' Off you go ! ' said my editor,
one fine morning, after I had slaved away for him for nearly
two years ' We don't want any canting truth-tellers here ! '
Now mind that stone ! You nearly slipped. Hold my arm
tighter!"
Helmsley did as he was told, quite meekly, looking up
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 233
with a good deal of curiosity at this tall athletic creature,
with the handsome head and masterful manner. Reay
caught his enquiring glance and laughed again.
" You look as if you wanted to know more about me, old
David ! " he said gaily " So you shall ! I've nothing to
conceal ! As I tell you I was ' kicked off ' out of journal-
ism my fault being that I published a leaderette exposing
a mean ' deal ' on the part of a certain city plutocrat. I
didn't know the rascal had shares in the paper. But he had
under an ' alias.' And he made the devil's own row about
it with the editor, who nearly died of it, being inclined to
apoplexy and between the two of them I was ' dropped.'
Then the word ran along the press wires that I was an
' unsafe ' man. I could not get any post worth having I
had saved just twenty pounds so I took it all and walked
away from London literally walked away ! I haven't spent
a penny in other locomotion than my own legs since I left
Fleet Street."
Helmsley listened with eager interest. Here was a man
who had done the very thing which he himself had started
to do ; " tramped " the road. But with what a differ-
ence ! Full manhood, physical strength, and activity on the
one side, decaying power, feebleness of limb and weariness
on the other. They had entered the village street by this
time, and were slowly walking up it together.
" You see," went on Reay, " of course I could have
taken the train but twenty pounds is only twenty pounds
and it must last me twelve solid months. By that time I
shall have finished my work."
"And what's that?" asked Helmsley.
" It's a book. A novel. And " here he set his teeth
hard " I intend that it shall make me famous ! "
" The intention is good," said Helmsley, slowly " But
there are so many novels ! "
" No, there are not ! " declared Reay, decisively " There
are plenty of rag-books called novels but they are not real
' novels.' There's nothing ' new ' in them. There's no
touch of real, suffering, palpitating humanity in them ! The
humanity of to-day is infinitely more complex than it was
in the days of Scott or Dickens, but there's no Scott or
Dickens to epitomise its character or delineate its tempera-
ment. I want to be the twentieth century Scott and Dickens
rolled into one stupendous literary Titan ! "
234 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
His mellow laughter was hearty and robust. Helmsley
caught its infection and laughed too.
" But why," he asked " do you want to write a novel ?
Why not write a real book?"
" What do you call a real book, old David ? " demanded
Reay, looking down upon him with a sudden piercing glance.
Helmsley was for a moment confused. He was think-
ing of such books as Carlyle's " Past and Present " Emer-
son's " Essays " and the works of Ruskin. But he remem-
bered in good time that for an old " basketmaker " to be
familiar with such literary masterpieces might seem strange
to a wide-awake " journalist," therefore he checked himself
in time.
" Oh, I don't know ! I believe I was thinking of ' Pil-
grim's Progress ' ! " he said.
" ' Pilgrim's Progress ' ? Ah ! A fine book a grand
book ! Twelve years and a half of imprisonment in Bedford
Jail turned Bunyan out immortal ! And here am I not in
jail but free to roam where I choose, with twenty pounds !
By Jove ! I ought to be greater than Bunyan ! Now ' Pil-
grim's Progress ' was a ' novel/ if you like ! "
" I thought," submitted Helmsley, with the well-assumed
air of a man who was not very conversant with literature
" that it was a religious book ? "
" So it is. A religious novel. And a splendid one ! But
humanity's gone past that now it wants a wider view a
bigger, broader outlook. Do you know " and here he
stopped in the middle of the rugged winding street, and
looked earnestly at his companion " do you know what I
see men doing at the present day? I see them rushing
towards the verge the very extreme edge of what they
imagine to be the Actual and from that edge getting ready
to plunge into Nothingness ! "
Something thrilling in his voice touched a responsive
chord in Helmsley's own heart.
" Why that is where we all tend ! " he said, with a quick
sigh " That is where / am tending ! where you, in your
time, must also tend nothingness or death ! "
"No!" said Reay, almost loudly " That's not true!"
That's just what I deny ! For me there is no ' Nothing-
ness ' no ' death ' ! Space is full of creative organisms.
Dissolution means re-birth. It is all life life: glorious
life ! We live we have always lived we shall always
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 235
live ! " He paused, flushing a little as though half ashamed
of his own enthusiasm then, dropping his voice to its
normal tone he said " You've got me on my hobby horse
I must come off it, or I shall gallop too far ! We're just at
the top of the street now. Shall I leave you here ? "
" Please come on to the cottage," said Helmsley " I'm
sure Mary Miss Deane will give you a cup of tea."
Angus Reay smiled.
" I don't allow myself that luxury," he said.
" Not when you're invited to share it with others ? "
" Oh yes, in that way I do but I'm not overburdened
with friends just now. A man must have more than twenty
pounds to be ' asked out ' anywhere ! "
" Well, / ask you out ! " said Helmsley, smiling " Or
rather, I ask you in. I'm sure Miss Deane will be glad to
talk to you. She is very fond of books."
" I've seen her just once in the village," remarked
Reay " She seems to be very much respected here. And
what a beautiful woman she is ! "
" You think so ? " and Helmsley's eyes lighted with pleas-
ure " Well, I think so, too but they tell me that it's only
because I'm old, and apt to see everyone beautiful who is
kind to me. There's a good deal in that ! there's certainly
a good deal in that ! "
They could now see the garden gate of Mary's cottage
through the boughs of the great chestnut tree, which at
this season was nearly stripped of all its leaves, and which
stood like a lonely forest king with some scanty red and
yellow rags of woodland royalty about him, in solitary
grandeur at the bending summit of the hill. And while
they were yet walking the few steps which remained of the
intervening distance, Mary herself came out to the gate, and,
leaning one arm lightly across it, watched them approaching.
She wore a pale lilac print gown, high to the neck and tidily
finished off by a plain little muslin collar fastened with a
coquettish knot of black velvet, her head was uncovered,
and the fitful gleams of the sinking sun shed a russet glow
on her shining hair and reddened the pale clear transparency
of her skin. In that restful waiting attitude, with a smile
on her face, she made a perfect picture, and Helmsley stole
a side-glance at his companion, to see if he seemed to be in
any way impressed by her appearance. Angus Reay was
certainly looking at her, but what he thought could hardly be
236 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
guessed by his outward expression. They reached the gate,
and she opened it.
" I was getting anxious about you, David ! " she said ;
" you aren't quite strong enough to be out in such a cold
wind." Then she turned her eyes enquiringly on Reay, who
lifted his cap while Helmsley explained his presence.
" This is a gentleman who is staying in the village Mr.
Reay," he said " He's been very kind in helping me up the
hill and I said you would give him a cup of tea."
" Why, of course ! " and Mary smiled " Please come
in, sir ! "
She led the way, and in another few minutes, all three of
them were seated in her little kitchen round the table and
Mary was busy pouring out the tea and dispensing the usual
good things that are always found in the simplest Somerset-
shire cottage, cream, preserved fruit, scones, home-made
bread and fresh butter.
" So you met David on the sea-shore?" she said, turning
her soft dark-blue eyes enquiringly on Reay, while gently
checking with one hand the excited gambols of Charlie, who,
as an epicurean dog, always gave himself up to the wildest
enthusiasms at tea-time, owing to his partiality for a small
saucer of cream which came to him at that hour " I some-
times think he must expect to pick up a fortune down among
the shells and sea-weed, he's so fond of walking about
there ! " And she smiled as she put Helmsley's cup of tea
before him, and gently patted his wrinkled hand in the
caressing fashion a daughter might show to a father whose
health gave cause for anxiety.
" Well, / certainly don't go down to the shore in any such
expectation ! " said Reay, laughing " Fortunes are not so
easily picked up, are they, David ? "
" No, indeed ! " replied Helmsley, and his old eyes sparkled
up humorously under their cavernous brows ; " fortunes take
some time to make, and one doesn't meet millionaires every
day ! "
" Millionaires ! " exclaimed Reay " Don't speak of them !
I hate them ! "
Helmsley looked at him stedfastly.
" It's best not to hate anybody," he said " Millionaires
are often the loneliest and most miserable of men."
" They deserve to be ! " declared Reay, hotly '" It isn't
right it isn't just that two or three, or let us say four or
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 237
five men should be able to control the money-markets of the
world. They generally get their wealth through some un-
scrupulous ' deal,' or through ' sweating ' labour. I hate all
' cornering ' systems. I believe in having enough to live
upon, but not too much."
" It depends on what you call enough," said Helmsley,
slowly " We're told that some people never know when
they have enough."
" Why this is enough ! " said Reay, looking admiringly
round the little kitchen in which they sat " This sweet lit-
tle cottage with this oak raftered ceiling, and all the dear
old-fashioned crockery, and the ingle-nook over there, who
on earth wants more ? "
Mary laughed.
" Oh dear me ! " she murmured, gently " You praise it
too much ! it's only a very poor place, sir,
He interrupted her, the colour rushing to his brows.
"Please don't!"
She glanced at him in surprise.
"Don't what?"
" Don't call me ' sir ' ! I'm only a poor chap, my father
was a shepherd, and I began life as a cowherd I don't want
any titles of courtesy."
She still kept her eyes upon him thoughtfully.
" But you're a gentleman, aren't you ? " she asked.
" I hope so ! " And he laughed. " Just as David is !
But we neither of us wish the fact emphasised, do we,
David ? It goes without saying ! "
Helmsley smiled. This Angus Reay was a man after his
own heart.
" Of course it does ! " he said " In the way you look
at it ! But you should tell Miss Deane all about yourself
she'll be interested."
" Would you really care to hear ? " enquired Reay, sud-
denly, turning his clear grey eyes full on Mary's face.
" Why certainly I should ! " she answered, frankly meeting
his glance, and then, from some sudden and inexplicable
embarrassment, she blushed crimson, and her eyelids fell.
And Reay thought what a clear, healthy skin she had, and
how warmly the blood flowed under it.
" Well, after tea I'll hold forth ! " he said" But there
isn't much to tell. Such as there is, you shall know, for I've
no mysteries about me. Some fellows love a mystery I
238 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
cannot bear it! Everything must be fair, open and above
board with me, else I can't breathe ! Pouf ! " And he
expanded his broad chest and took a great gulp of air in as
he spoke " I hate a man who tries to hide his own identity,
don't you, David ? "
" Yes yes certainly ! " murmured Helmsley, absently,
feigning to be absorbed in buttering a scone for his own eat-
ing " It is often very awkward for the man."
" I always say, and I always will maintain," went on
Reay " let a man be a man a something or a nothing. If
he is a criminal, let him say he is a criminal, and not pretend
to be virtuous if he is an atheist, let him say he is an atheist,
and not pretend to be religious if he's a beggar and can't
help himself, let him admit the fact if he's a millionaire,
don't let him skulk round pretending he's as poor as Job al-
ways let him be himself and no other! eh? what is it,
David?"
For Helmsley was looking at him intently with eyes that
were almost young in their sudden animation and brilliancy.
" Did you ever meet a millionaire who skulked round pre-
tending he was as poor as Job ? " he enquired, with a whim-
sical air "/ never did ! "
" Well no, I never did, either ! " And Reay's mellow
laughter was so loud and long that Mary was quite infected
by it, and laughed with him " But you see millionaires are
all marked men. Everybody knows them. Their portraits
are in all the newspapers horrid-looking rascals most of
them ! Nature doesn't seem to endow them with handsome
features anyway. ' Keep your gold, and never mind your
face,' she seems to say Til take care of that! ' And she
does take care of it ! O Lord ! The only millionaire I ever
saw in my life was ugly enough to frighten a baby into
convulsions ! "
" What was his name ? " asked Helmsley.
" Well, it wouldn't be fair to tell his name now, after
what I've said ! " laughed Reay " Besides, he lives in
America, thank God ! He's one of the few who have spared
the old country his patronage ! "
Here a diversion was created by the necessity of serving
the tiny but autocratic Charlie with his usual " dish of
cream," of which he partook on Mary's knee, while listening
(as was evident from the attentive cocking of his silky ears)
to the various compliments he was accustomed to receive on
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 239
his beauty. This business over, they rose from the tea--
table. The afternoon had darkened into twilight, and the
autumnal wind was sighing through the crannies of the door. '
Mary stirred the fire into a brighter blaze, and drawing
Helmsley's arm-chair close to its warm glow, stood by him
till he was comfortably seated then she placed another
chair opposite for Reay, and sat down herself on a low
oaken settle between the two.
" This is the pleasantest time of the day just now," she
said "And the best time for talking ! I love the gloaming.
My father loved it too."
" So did my father ! " and Reay's eyes softened as he bent
them on the sparkling fire " In winter evenings when the
darkness fell down upon our wild Highland hills, he would
come home to our shieling on the edge of the moor, shaking
all the freshness of the wind and the scent of the dying
heather out of his plaid as he threw it from his shoulders,
and he would toss fresh peat on the fire till it blazed red and
golden, and he would lay his hand on my head and say to
me : ' Come awa' bairnie ! Now for a bogle story in the
gloamin' ! ' Ah, those bogle stories ! They are answerable
for a good deal in my life! They made me want to write
bogle stories myself ! "
"And do you write them ? " asked Mary.
" Not exactly. Though perhaps all human life is only
a bogle tale ! Invented to amuse the angels ! "
She smiled, and taking up a delicate piece of crochet lace,
which she called her " spare time work," began to ply the
glittering needle in and out fine intricacies of thread, her
shapely hands gleaming like alabaster in the fire-light re-
flections.
" Well, now tell us your own bogle tale ! " she said
"And David and I will play the angels ! "
CHAPTER XV
HE watched her working for a few minutes before he spoke
again. And shading his eyes with one hand from the red
glow of the fire, David Helmsley watched them both.
" Well, it's rather cool of me to take up your time talking
about my own affairs," began Reay, at last " But I've
been pretty much by myself for a good while, and it's pleas-
ant to have a chat with friendly people man wasn't made
to live alone, you know ! In fact, neither man nor beast nor
bird can stand it. Even a sea cormorant croaks to the
wind ! "
Mary laughed.
" But not for company's sake," she said " It croaks
when it's hungry."
" Oh, I've often croaked for that reason ! " and Reay
pushed from his forehead a wayward tuft of hair which
threatened to drop over his eye in a thick silvery brown
curl " But it's wonderful how little a fellow can live upon
in the way of what is called food. I know all sorts of
dodges wherewith to satisfy the greedy cravings of the vul-
gar part of me."
Helmsley took his hand from his eyes, and fixed a keenly
observant look upon the speaker. Mary said nothing, but
her crochet needle moved more slowly.
" You see," went on Reay, " I've always been rather for-
tunate in having had very little to eat."
" You call it ' fortunate ' ? " queried Helmsley, abruptly.
" Why, of course ! I've never had what the doctors call
an ' overloaded system ' therefore I've no lading bill to pay.
The million or so of cells of which I am composed are not at
all anxious to throw any extra nourishment off, sometimes
they intimate a strong desire to take some extra nourish-
ment in but that is an uneducated tendency in them which
I sternly repress. I tell all those small grovelling cells that
extra nourishment would not be good for them. And they
shrink back from my moral reproof ashamed of themselves
and become wiry instead of fatty. Which is as it should be."
240
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 241
" You're a queer chap ! " said Helmsley, with a laugh.
" Think so ? Well, I daresay I am all Scotsmen are.
There's always the buzzing of the bee in our bonnets. I
come of an ancient Highland stock who were certainly
' queer ' as modern ways go, for they were famous for their
pride, and still more famous for their poverty all the way
through. As far back as I can go in the history of my
family, and that's a pretty long way, we were always at our
wit's end to live. From the days of the founder of our
house, a glorious old chieftain who used to pillage his neigh-
bour chieftain in the usual style of those glorious old times,
we never had more than just enough for the bare necessities
of life. My father, as I told you, was a shepherd a strong,
fine-looking man over six feet in height, and as broad-
chested as a Hercules he herded sheep on the mountains
for a Glasgow dealer, as low-down a rascal as ever lived,
a man who, so far as race and lineage went, wasn't fit to
scrape mud off my father's boots. But we often see gentle-
men of birth obliged to work for knaves of cash. That was
the way it was with my father. As soon as I was old enough
about ten, I helped him in his work I used to tramp
backwards and forwards to school in the nearest village, but
after school hours I got an evening job of a shilling a week
for bringing home eight Highland bull-heifers from pasture.
The man who owned them valued them highly, but was
afraid of them wouldn't go near them for his life and
before I'd been with them a fortnight they all knew me. I
was only a wee laddie, but they answered to my call like
friendly dogs rather than the great powerful splendid beasts
they were, with their rough coats shining like floss silk in
the sunset, when I went to drive them home, singing as I
came. And my father said to me one night ' Laddie, tell
me the truth are ye ever scared at the bulls ! ' * No,
father ! ' said I ' It's a bonnie boy I am to the bulls ! ' And
he laughed by Jove ! how he laughed ! ' Ye're a wee
raskell ! ' he said ' An' as full o' conceit as an egg's full o'
meat ! ' I expect that was true too, for I always thought
well of myself. You see, if I hadn't thought well of myself,
no one would ever have thought well of me!"
' There's something in that ! " said Helmsley, the smile
still lingering in his eyes " Courage and self-reliance have
often conquered more than eight bulls ! "
" Oh, I don't call it either courage or self-reliance it was
242 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
just that I thought myself of too much importance to be
hurt by bulls or anything else," and Angus laughed, then
with a sudden knitting of his brows as though his thoughts
were making hard knots in his brain, he added " Even as a
laddie I had an idea and I have it now that there was
something in me which God had put there for a purpose of
His own, something that he would not and could not
destroy till His purpose had been fulfilled ! "
Mary stopped working and looked at him earnestly.
Her breath came and went quickly her eyes shone dewily
like stars in a summer haze, she was deeply interested.
" That was and is a conceited notion, of course,"
went on Angus, reflectively "And I don't excuse it. But
I'm not one of the ' meek who shall inherit the earth.' I'm
a robustious combustious sort of chap if a fellow knocks
me down, I jump up and give it him back with as jolly good
interest as I can and if anyone plays me a dirty trick I'll
move all the mental and elemental forces of the universe to
expose him. That's my way unfortunately "
" Why ' unfortunately ' ? " asked Helmsley.
Reay threw back his head and indulged in one of his mel-
low peals of laughter.
" Can you ask why ? Oh David, good old David ! it's
easy to see you don't know much of the world ! If you did,
you'd realise that the best way to ' get on ' in the usual way
of worldly progress, is to make up to all sorts of social
villains and double-dyed millionaire-scoundrels, find out all
their tricks and their miserable little vices and pamper them,
David ! pamper them and flatter them up to the top of their
bent till you've got them in your power and then then use
them use them for everything you want. For once you
know what blackguards they are, they'll give you anything
not to tell ! "
" I should be sorry to think that's true," murmured
Mary.
" Don't think it, then," said Angus " You needn't, be-
cause millionaires are not likely to come in your way. Nor
in mine now. I've cut myself adrift from all chance of
ever meeting them. But only a year ago I was on the road
to making a good thing out of one or two of the so-called
* kings of finance ' then I suddenly took a ' scunner ' as we
Scots say, at the whole lot, and hated and despised myself
for ever so much as thinking that it might serve my own
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 243
ends to become their tool. So I just cast off ropes like a
ship, and steamed out of harbour."
" Into the wide sea ! " said Mary, looking at him with a
smile that was lovely in its radiance and sympathy.
" Into the wide sea yes ! " he answered "And sea that
was pretty rough at first. But one can get accustomed to
anything even to the high rock-a-bye tossing of great bil-
lows that really don't want to put you to sleep so much as to
knock you to pieces. But I'm galloping along too fast. From
the time I made friends with young bulls to the time I began
to scrape acquaintance with newspaper editors is a far cry
and in the interim my father died. I should have told you
that I lost my mother when I was born and I don't think
that the great wound her death left in my father's heart ever
really healed. He never seemed quite at one with the things
of Iffe and his ' bogle tales ' of which I was so fond, all
turned on the spirits of the dead coming again to visit those
whom they had loved, and from whom they had been taken
and he used to tell them with such passionate conviction
that sometimes I trembled and wondered if any spirit were
standing near us in the light of the peat fire, or if the shriek
of the wind over our sheiling were the cry of some unhappy
soul in torment. Well ! When his time came, he was not
allowed to suffer one day in a great storm he was struck
by lightning on the side of the mountain where he was herd-
ing in his flocks and there he was found lying as though
he were peacefully asleep. Death must have been swift and
painless and I always thank God for that ! " He paused a
moment then went on " When I found myself quite alone
in the world, I hired myself out to a farmer for five years
and worked faithfully for him worked so well that he
raised my wages and would willingly have kept me on but
I had the ' bogle tales ' in my head and could not rest. It
was in the days before Andrew Carnegie started trying to
rub out the memory of his ' Homestead cruelty by planting
' free ' libraries, (for which taxpayers are rated) all over the
country and pauperising Scottish University education by
grants of money I suppose he is a sort of little Pontiff
unto himself, and thinks that money can pacify Heaven, and
silence the cry of brothers' blood rising from the Home-
stead ground. In my boyhood a Scottish University educa-
tion had to be earned by the would-be student himself
earned by hard work, hard living, patience, perseverance
244 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
and grit. That's the one quality I had grit and it served
me well in all I wanted. I entered at St. Andrews grad-
uated, and came out an M.A. That helped to give me my
first chance with the press. But I'm sure I'm boring you by
all this chatter about myself ! David, you stop me when you
think Miss Deane has had enough ! "
Helmsley looked at Mary's figure in its pale lilac gown
touched here and there by the red sparkle of the fire, and
noted the attentive poise of her head, and the passive
quietude of her generally busy hands which now lay in her
lap loosely folded over her lace work.
" Have we had enough, Mary, do you think? " he asked,
with the glimmering of a tender little smile under his white
moustache.
She glanced at him quickly in a startled way, as though
she had been suddenly wakened from a reverie.
" Oh no ! " she answered " I love to hear of a brave
man's fight with the world it's the finest story anyone can
listen to."
Reay coloured like a boy.
" I'm not a brave man," he said " I hope I haven't
given you that idea. I'm an awful funk at times."
" When are those times ? " and Mary smiled demurely,
as she put the question.
Again the warm blood rushed up to his brows.
" Well, please don't laugh ! I'm afraid horribly afraid
of women ! "
Helmsley's old eyes sparkled.
" Upon my word ! " he exclaimed " That's a funny thing
for you to say ! "
" It is, rather," and Angus looked meditatively into the
fire " It's not that I'm bashful, at all no I'm quite the
other way, really, only only ever since I was a lad I've
made such an ideal of woman that I'm afraid of her when I
meet her, afraid lest she shouldn't come up to my ideal, and
equally afraid lest I shouldn't come up to hers ! It's all con-
ceit again ! Fear of anything or anybody is always born of
self-consciousness. But I've been disappointed once "
" In your ideal ? " questioned Mary, raising her eyes and
letting them rest observantly upon his face.
'' Yes. I'll come to that presently. I was telling you how
I graduated at St. Andrews, and came out with M.A. tacked
to my name, but with no other fortune than those two letters.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 245
I had made a few friends, however, and one of them, a
worthy old professor, gave me a letter of recommendation
to a man in Glasgow, who was the proprietor of one of the
newspapers there. He was a warm-hearted, kindly fellow,
and gave me a berth at once. It was hard work for little
pay, but I got into thorough harness, and learnt all the ins
and outs of journalism. I can't say that I ever admired the
general mechanism set up for gulling the public, but I had
to learn how it was done, and I set myself to master the
whole business. I had rather a happy time of it in Glasgow,
for though it's the dirtiest, dingiest and most depressing city
in the world, with its innumerable drunkards and low Scoto-
Irish ne'er-do-weels loafing about the streets on Saturday
nights, it has one great charm you can get away from it
into some of the loveliest scenery in the world. All my
spare time was spent in taking the steamer up the Clyde, and
sometimes going as far as Crinan and beyond it or what I
loved best of all, taking a trip to Arran, and there roaming
about the hills to my heart's content. Glorious Arran ! It
was there I first began to feel my wings growing ! "
" Was it a pleasant feeling? " enquired Helmsley, jocosely.
"Yes it was!" replied Angus, clenching his right hand
and bringing it down on his knee with emphasis ; " whether
they were goose wings or eagle wings didn't matter the
pricking of the budding quills was an alive sensation ! The
mountains, the burns, the glens, all had something to say to
me or I thought they had something new, vital and
urgent. God Himself seemed to have some great command
to impose upon me and I was ready to hear and obey. I
began to write first verse then prose and by and by I got
one or two things accepted here and there not very much,
but still enough to fire me to further endeavours. Then
one summer, when I was taking a holiday at a little village
near Loch Lomond, I got the final dig of the spur of fate I
fell in love."
Mary raised her eyes again and looked at him. A slow
smile parted her lips.
"And did the girl fall in love with you ? " she asked.
" For a time I believe she did," said Reay, and there was
an under-tone of whimsical amusement in his voice as he
spoke " She was spending the summer in Scotland with her
mother and father, and there wasn't anything for her to do.
She didn't care for scenery very much and I just came in
246 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
as a sort of handy man to amuse her. She was a lovely
creature in her teens, I thought she was an angel till till
I found her out."
"And then ? " queried Helmsley.
" Oh well, then of course I was disillusioned. When I
told her that I loved her more than anything else in the
world, she laughed ever so sweetly, and said, ' I'm sure you
do ! ' But when I asked her if she loved me, she laughed
again, and said she didn't know what I was talking about
she didn't believe in love. ' What do you believe in ? ' I
asked her. And she looked at me in the prettiest and most
innocent way possible, and said quite calmly and slowly 'A
rich marriage.' And my heart gave a great dunt in my
side, for I knew it was all over. ' Then you won't marry
me?' I said ' for I'm only a poor journalist. But I mean
to be famous some day ! ' ' Do you ? ' she said, and again
that little laugh of hers rippled out like the tinkle of cold
water ' Don't you think famous men are very tiresome ?
And they're always dreadfully poor ! ' Then I took hold of
her hands, like the desperate fool I was, and kissed them,
and said, ' Lucy, wait for me just a few years ! Wait for
me ! You're so young ' for she was only seventeen, and
still at school in Brighton somewhere ' You can afford to
wait, give me a chance ! ' And she looked down at the
water we were ' on the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond,' as
the song says in quite a picturesque little attitude of re-
flection, and sighed ever so prettily, and said ' I can't,
Angus! You're very nice and kind! and I like you very
much ! but I am going to marry a millionaire ! ' Now you
know why I hate millionaires."
" Did you say her name was Lucy ? " asked Helmsley.
" Yes. Lucy Sorrel."
A bright flame leaped up in the fire and showed all three
faces to one another Mary's face, with its quietly absorbed
expression of attentive interest Reay's strongly moulded
features, just now somewhat sternly shadowed by bitter
memories and Helmsley's thin, worn, delicately intellectual
countenance, which in the brilliant rosy light flung upon it
by the fire-glow, was like a fine waxen mask, impenetrable
in its unmoved austerity and calm. Not so much as the
faintest flicker of emotion crossed it at the mention of the
name of the woman he knew so well, the surprise he felt
inwardly was not apparent outwardly, and he heard the re-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 247,
mainder of Reay's narration with the most perfectly con-
trolled imperturbability of demeanour.
" She told me then," proceeded Reay " that her parents
had spent nearly all they had upon her education, in order to
fit her for a position as the wife of a rich man and that she
would have to do her best to ' catch ' that's the way she put
it to ' catch ' this rich man as soon as she got a good op-
portunity. He was quite an old man, she said old enough
to be her grandfather. And when I asked her how she
could reconcile it to her conscience to marry such a hoary-
headed rascal "
Here Helmsley interrupted him.
" Was he a hoary-headed rascal ? "
" He must have been," replied Angus, warmly " Don't
you see he must ? "
Helmsley smiled.
" Well not exactly ! " he submitted, with a gentle air of
deference " I think perhaps he might deserve a little
pity for having to be 'caught' as you say just for his
money's sake."
" Not a bit of it ! " declared Reay "Any old man who
would marry a young girl like that condemns himself as a
villain. An out-an-out, golden-dusted villain ! "
" But has he married her ? " asked Mary.
Angus was rather taken aback at this question, and rub-
bed his forehead perplexedly.
" Well, no, he hasn't not yet not that I know of, and
I've watched the papers carefully too. Such a marnage
couldn't take place without columns and columns of twaddle
about it all the dressmakers who made gowns for the bi ide
would want a mention and if they paid for it of course
they'd get it. No it hasn't come off yet but it will. The.
venerable bridegroom that is to be has just gone abroad
somewhere so I see by one of the ' Society ' rags, prob-
ably to the States to make some more ' deals ' in cash before
his wedding."
" You know his name, then ? "
" Oh yes ! Everybody knows it, and knows him too !
David Helmsley 's too rich to hide his light under a bushel !
They call him ' King David ' in the city. Now your name's
David but, by Jove, what a difference in Davids ! " And
he laughed, adding quickly " I prefer the David I see be-
fore me now, to the David I never saw ! "
248 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Oh ! You never saw the old rascal then ? " murmured
'Helmsley, putting up one hand to stroke his moustache
slowly down over the smile which he could not repress.
" Never and don't want to ! If I become famous
which I will do," and here Angus set his teeth hard " I'll
make my bow at one of Mrs. Millionaire Helmsley's recep-
tions one day ! And how will she look then ! "
" I should say she would look much the same as usual,"
said Helmsley, drily " If she is the kind of young woman
you describe, she is not likely to be overcome by the sight of
a merely ' famous ' man. You would have to be twice or
three times as wealthy as herself to move her to any sense
of respect for you. That is, if we are to judge by what our
newspapers tell us of ' society ' people. The newspapers are
all we poor folk have got to go by."
" Yes I've often thought of that ! " and Angus rubbed
his forehead again in a vigorous way as though he were
trying to rub ideas out of it "And I've pitied the poor folks
from the bottom of my heart! They get pretty often mis-
led and on serious matters too."
" Oh, we're not all such fools as we seem," said Helms-
ley " We can read between the lines as well as anyone and
we understand pretty clearly that it's only money which
' makes ' the news. We read of ' society ladies ' doing this,
that and t' other thing, and we laugh at their doings and
when we read of a great lady conducting herself like an out-
cast, we feel a contempt for her such as we never visit on her
poor sister of the streets. The newspapers may praise these
women, but we * common people ' estimate them at their true
worth and that is nothing! Now the girl you made an
ideal of "
" She was to be bought and sold," interrupted Reay ;
" I know that now. But I didn't know it then. She looked
a sweet innocent angel, with a pretty face and beautiful
eyes just the kind of creature we men fall in love with at
first sight "
" The kind of creature who, if you had married her, would
have made you wretched for life," said Helmsley. " Be
thankful you escaped her ! "
" Oh, I'm thankful enough now ! " and Reay pushed back
his rebellious lock of hair again " For when one has a
great ambition in view, freedom is better than love "
Helmsley raised his wrinkled, trembling hand.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 249
" No, don't say that ! " he murmured, gently " Nothing
nothing in all the world is better than love ! "
Involuntarily his eyes turned towards Mary with a strange
wistfulness. There was an unspoken yearning in his face
that was almost pain. Her quick instinctive sympathy re-
sponded to his thought, and rising, she went to him on the
pretext of re-arranging the cushion in his chair, so that he
might lean back more comfortably. Then she took his hand
and patted it kindly.
" You're a sentimental old boy, aren't you, David ! " she
said, playfully " You like being taken care of and fussed
over! Of course you do! Was there ever a man that
didn't!"
He was silent, but he pressed her paressing hand grate-
fully.
" No one has ever taken care of or fussed over me" said
Reay " I should rather like to try the experiment ! "
Mary laughed good-humouredly.
M You must find yourself a wife," she said "And then
you'll see how you like it."
" But wives don't make any fuss over their husbands it
seems to me," replied Reay "At any rate in London, where
I have lived for the past five years husbands seem to be
the last persons in the world whom their wives consider. I
don't think I shall ever marry."
" I'm sure / shan't," said Mary, smiling and as she
spoke, she bent over the fire, and threw a fresh log of wood
on to keep up the bright glow which was all that illuminated
the room, from which almost every pale glimmer of the
twilight had now departed " I'm an old maid. But I was
an engaged girl once ! "
Helmsley lifted up his head with sudden and animated
interest.
"Were you, Mary?"
" Oh, yes ! " And the smile deepened round her expres-
sive mouth and played softly in her eyes " Yes, David,
really! I was engaged to a very good-looking young man
in the electrical engineering business. And I was very fond
of him. But when my father lost every penny, my good-
looking young man went too. He said he couldn't possibly
marry a girl with nothing but the clothes on her back. I
cried very much at the time, and thought my heart was
broken. But it wasn't I "
250 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" I should hope it wouldn't break for such a selfish
rascal ! " said Reay, warmly.
" Do you think he was more selfish than most ? " queried
Mary, thoughtfully " There's a good many who would do
as he did."
A silence followed. She sat down and resumed her work.
" Have you finished your story ? " she asked Reay " It
has interested me so much that I'm hoping there's some more
to tell."
As she spoke to him he started as if from a dream. He
had been watching her so earnestly that he had almost for-
gotten what he had previously been talking about. He
found himself studying the beautiful outline of her figure,
and wondering why he had never before seen such gracious
curves of neck and shoulder, waist and bosom as gave
symmetrical perfection of shape to this simple woman born
of the " common " people.
" More to tell ? " he echoed, hastily, " Well, there's a
little but not much. My love affair at Loch Lomond did
one thing for me, it made me work hard. I had a sort of
desperate idea that I might wrest a fortune out of journal-
ism by dint of sheer grinding at it but I soon found out my
mistake there. I toiled away so steadily and got such a
firm hold of all the affairs of the newspaper office where I
was employed, that one fine morning I was dismissed. My
proprietor, genial and kindly as ever, said he found * no
fault ' but that he wanted * a change.' I quite understood
that. The fact is I knew too much that's all. I had saved
a bit, and so, with a few good letters of introduction, went
on from Glasgow to London. There, in that great black
ant-hill full of crawling sooty human life, I knocked about
for a time from one newspaper office to another, doing any
sort of work that turned up, just to keep body and soul to-
gether, and at last I got a fairly good berth in the London
branch of a big press syndicate. It was composed of three
or four proprietors, ever so many editors, and an army of
shareholders representing almost every class in Great
Britain. Ah, those shareholders! There's the whole mis-
chief of the press nowadays ! "
" I suppose it's money again ! " said Helmsley.
" Of course it is. Here's how the matter stands. A
newspaper syndicate is like any other trading company,
composed for the sole end and object of making as much
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 251
profit out of the public as possible. The lion's portion
naturally goes to the heads of the concern then come the
shareholders' dividends. The actual workers in the busi-
ness, such as the ' editors/ are paid as little as their self-
respect will allow them to take, and as for the other fellows
under the editors well ! you can just imagine they get
much less than the little their self-respect would claim, if
they were not, most of them, so desperately poor, and so
anxious for a foothold somewhere as to be ready to take
anything. I took the first chance I could get, and hung
on to it, not for the wretched pay, but for the experience,
and for the insight it gave me into men and things. I wit-
nessed the whole business ; the ' doctoring up ' of social
scandals, the tampering with the news in order that cer-
tain items might not affect certain shares on the Stock
Exchange, the way ' discussions * of the most idiotic kind
were started in the office just to fill up space, such as what
was best to make the hair grow ; what a baby ought to
weigh at six months ; what food authors write best on ; and
whether modern girls make as good wives as their mothers
did, and so on. These things were generally got up by ' the
fool of the office ' as we called him a man with a perpetual
grin and an undyingly good opinion of himself. He was
always put into harness when for some state or financial
reason the actual facts had to be euphonised or even sup-
pressed and the public ' let down gently.' For a time I was
drafted off on the ' social ' business ugh ? how I hated
it?"
" What did you have to do ? " asked Mary, amused.
" Oh, I had to deal with a motley crowd of court flun-
keys, Jews, tailors and dressmakers, and fearful-looking
women catering for ' fashion,' who came with what they
called ' news,' which was generally that ' Mrs. " Bunny "
Bumpkin looked sweet in grey ' or that ' Miss " Toby "
Tosspot was among the loveliest of the debutantes at
Court.' Sometimes a son of Israel came along, all in a
mortal funk, and said he ' didn't want it mentioned ' that
Mrs. So-and-So had dined with him at a certain public
restaurant last night. Generally, he was a shareholder, and
his orders had to be obeyed. The shareholders in fact
had most to do with the ' society ' news, and they bored
me nearly to death. The trifles they wanted ' mentioned '
were innumerable the other trifles they didn't want men-
252 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
tioned, were quite as endless. One day there was a regu-
lar row a sort of earthquake in the place. Somebody had
presumed to mention that the beautiful Mrs. Mushroom
Ketchup had smoked several cigarettes with infinite gusto
at a certain garden party, now what are you laughing at,
Miss Deane ? "
" At the beautiful Mrs. Mushroom Ketchup ! " and Mary's
clear laughter rippled out in a silvery peal of purest merri-
ment " That's not her name surely ! "
" Oh no, that's not her name ! " and Angus laughed too
" It wouldn't do to give her real name ! but Ketchup's
quite as good and high-sounding as the one she's got.
And as I tell you, the whole ' staff ' was convulsed. Three
shareholders came down post haste to the office one at
full speed in a motor, and said how dare I mention Mrs.
Mushroom Ketchup at all? It was like my presumption
to notice that she had smoked ! Mrs. Mushroom Ketchup's
name must be kept out of the papers she was a ' lady ' !
Oh, by Jove! how I laughed! I couldn't help myself!
I just roared with laughter in the very faces of those share-
holders ! ' A lady ! ' said I' Why, she's ' But I wasn't
allowed to say what she was, for the shareholder who had
arrived in the motor, fixed a deadly glance upon me and
said ' If you value your po-seetion ' he was a Lowland
Scot, with the Lowland accent ' if you value your po-see-
tion on this paper, you'll hold your tongue ! ' So I did
hold my tongue then but only because I meant to wag it
more violently afterwards. I always devote Mrs. Mushroom
Ketchup to the blue blazes, because I'm sure it was through
her I lost my post. You see a shareholder in a paper has
a good deal of influence, especially if he has as much as a
hundred thousand shares. You'd be surprised if I told you
the real names of some of the fellows who control newspa-
per syndicates ! you wouldn't believe it ! Or at any rate,
if you did believe it, you'd never believe the newspapers ! "
" I don't believe them now," said Helmsley " They
say one thing to-day and contradict it to-morrow."
" Oh, but that's like all news ! " said Mary, placidly
" Even in our little village here, you never know quite what
to believe. One morning you are told that Mrs. Badge's
baby has fallen downstairs and broken its neck, and you've
scarcely done being sorry for Mrs. Badge, when in comes
Mrs. Badge herself, baby and all, quite well and smiling,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 253
and she says she ' never did hear such tales as there are
in Wiercombe ' ! "
They all laughed.
" Well, there's the end of my story," said Angus " I
worked on the syndicate for two years, and then was given
the sack. The cause of my dismissal was, as I told you, that
I published a leading article exposing a mean and dirty
financial trick on the part of a man who publicly assumed
to be a world's benefactor and he turned out to be a
shareholder in the paper under an ' alias.' There was no
hope for me after that it was a worse affair than that
of Mrs. Mushroom Ketchup. So I marched out of the
office, and out of London I meant to make for Exmoor,
which is wild and solitary, because I thought I might
find some cheap room in a cottage there, where I might live
quietly on almost nothing and write my book but I stum-
bled by chance on this place instead and I rather like being
so close to the sea.
" You are writing a book ? " said Mary, her eyes rest-
ing upon him thoughtfully.
" Yes. I've got a room in the village for half-a-crown
a week and ' board myself ' as the good woman of the
house says. And I'm perfectly happy ! "
A long pause followed. The fire was dying down from
a flame to a dull red glow, and a rush of wind against the
kitchen window was accompanied by the light pattering of
rain. Angus Reay rose.
" I must be going," he said " I've made you quite a
visitation ! Old David is nearly asleep ! "
Helmsley looked up.
" Not I ! " and he smiled " I'm very wide awake : I
like your story, and I like you! Perhaps you'll come in
again sometimes and have a chat with us ? "
Reay glanced enquiringly at Mary, who had also risen
from her chair, and was now lighting the lamp on the
table.
" May I ? " he asked hesitatingly.
" Why, of course ! " And her eyes met his with hospit-
able frankness " Come whenever you feel lonely ! "
" I often do that ! " he said.
" All the better ! then we shall often see you ! " she
answered " And you'll always be welcome ! "
" Thank-you 1 I believe you mean it ! "
25* THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Mary smiled.
" Why of course I do ! I'm not a newspaper syndicate ! "
" Nor a Mrs. Mushroom Ketchup ! " put in Helmsley.
Angus threw back his head and gave one of his big joy-
ous laughs.
" No ! You're a long way off that ! " he said " Good-
evening, David ! "
And going up to the arm-chair where Helmsley sat he
shook hands with him.
" Good-evening, Mr. Reay ! " rejoined Helmsley, cheerily ;
" I'm very glad we met this afternoon ! "
" So am I ! " declared Angus, with energy " I don't
feel quite so much of a solitary bear as I did. I'm in a
better temper altogether with the world in general ! "
" That's right ! " said Mary " Whatever happens to you
it's never the fault of the world, remember! it's only the
trying little ways of the people in it ! "
She held out her hand in farewell, and he pressed it
gently. Then he threw on his cap, and she opened her
cottage door for him to pass out. A soft shower of rain
blew full in their faces as they stood on the threshold.
" You'll get wet, I'm afraid ! " said Mary.
" Oh, that's nothing ! " And he buttoned his coat across
his chest " What's that lovely scent in the garden here,
just close to the door?"
" It's the old sweet-briar bush," she replied " It lasts
in leaf till nearly Christmas and always smells so delicious.
Shall I give you a bit of it ? "
" It's too dark to find it now, surely ! " said Angus.
" Oh, no ! I can feel it ! "
And stretching out her white hand into the raining dark-
ness, she brought it back holding a delicate spray of odorous
leaves.
" Isn't it sweet ? " she said, as she gave it to him.
" It is indeed ! " he placed the little sprig in his button-
hole. " Thank-you ! Good-night ! "
"Good-night!"
He lifted his hat and smiled into her eyes then walked
quickly through the tiny garden, opened the gate, shut it
carefully behind him, and disappeared. Mary listened for
a moment to the swish of the falling rain among the leaves,
and the noise of the tumbling hill-torrent over its stony bed.
Then she closed and barred the door.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 255
" It's going to be a wet night, David ! " she said, as she
came back towards the fire " And a bit rough, too, by the
sound of the sea."
He did not answer immediately, but watched her atten-
tively as she made up the fire, and cleared the table of the
tea things, packing up the cups and plates and saucers in
the neat and noiseless manner which was particularly her
own, preparatory to carrying them all on a tray out to
the little scullery adjoining the kitchen, which with its
well polished saucepans, kettles, and crockery was quite a
smart feature of her small establishment. Then
" What do you think of him, Mary ? " he asked suddenly.
"Of Mr. Reay?"
" Yes."
She hesitated a moment, looking intently at a small crack
in one of the plates she was putting by.
" Well, I don't know, David ! it's rather difficult to say
on such a short acquaintance but he seems to me quite
a good fellow."
" Quite a good fellow, yes ! " repeated Helmsley, nodding
gravely " That's how he seems to me, too."
" I think," went on Mary, slowly " that he's a thor-
oughly manly man, don't you ? "
He nodded gravely again, and echoed her words
" A thoroughly manly man ! "
" And perhaps," she continued " it would be pleasant
for you, David, to have a chat with him now and then espe-
cially in the long winter evenings wouldn't it ? "
She had moved to his side, and now stood looking down
upon him with such a wistful sweetness of expression,
that he was content to merely watch her, without answer-
ing her question.
" Because those long winter evenings are sometimes very
dull, you know ! " she went on " And I'm afraid I'm not
very good company when I'm at work mending the lace
I have to take all my stitches so carefully that I dare not
talk must lest I make a false knot."
He smiled.
" You make a false knot ! " he said " You couldn't do
it, if you tried ! You'll never make a false knot never ! "
and his voice sank to an almost inaudible murmur
" Neither in your lace nor in your life ! "
She looked at him a little anxiously.
256 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
"Are you tired, David?"
" No, my dear ! Not .tired only thinking ! "
" Well, you mustn't think too much," she said " Think-
ing is weary work, sometimes ! "
He raised his eyes and looked at her steadily.
" Mr. Reay was very frank and open in telling us all
about himself, wasn't he, Mary?"
" Oh yes ! " and she laughed " But I think he is one
of those men who couldn't possibly be anything else but
frank and open."
"Oh, you do?"
" Yes."
" Don't you sometimes wonder," went on Helmsley
slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on the fire " why / haven't
told you all about myself ? "
She met his eyes with a candid smile.
" No I haven't thought about it ! " she said.
" Why haven't you thought about it ? " he persisted.
She laughed outright.
" Simply because I haven't ! That's all ! "
" Mary," he said, seriously " You know I was not
your ' father's friend ' ! You know I never saw your
father!"
The smile still lingered in her eyes.
"Yes I know that!"
" And yet you never ask me to give an account of my-
self!"
She thought he was worrying his mind needlessly, and
bending over him took his hand in hers.
" No, David, I never ask impertfnent questions ! " she said
" I don't want to know anything more about you than
you choose to tell. You seem to me like my dear father
not quite so strong as he was, perhaps but I have
taken care of you for so many weeks, that I almost feel as
if you belonged to me! And I want to take care of you
still, because I know you must be taken care of. And I'm
so well accustomed to you now that I shouldn't like to
lose you, David I shouldn't really! Because you've
been so patient and gentle and grateful for the little
I have been able to do for you, that I've got fond of you,
David! Yes! actually fond of you! What do you say
to that?"
" Say to it ! " he murmured, pressing the hand he held.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 257
" I don't know what to say to it, Mary ! except God
bless you ! "
She was silent a minute then she went on in a cheerfully
rallying tone
" So I don't want to know anything about you, you see !
Now, as to Mr. Reay "
" Ah, yes ! " and Helmsley gave her a quick observant
glance which she herself did not notice " What about
Mr. Reay?"
" Well it would be nice if we could cheer him up a
little and make him bear his poor and lonely life more
easily. Wouldn't it?"
" Cheer him up a little and make him bear his poor and
lonely life more easily ! " repeated Helmsley, slowly, " Yes.
And do you think we can do that, Mary ? "
" We can try ! " she said, smiling " At any rate, while
he's living in Wiercombe, we can be friendly to him, and
give him a bit of dinner now and then ! "
" So we can ! " agreed Helmsley " Or rather, so you
can ! "
" We ! " corrected Mary " You're helping me to keep
house now, David, remember that ! "
" Why I haven't paid half or a quarter of my debt to you
yet ! " he exclaimed.
" But you're paying it off every day," she answered ;
" Don't you fear ! I mean to have every penny out of you
that I can ! "
She laughed gaily, and taking up the tray upon which she
had packed all the tea-things, carried it out of the kitchen.
Helmsley heard her singing softly to herself in the scullery,
as she set to work to wash the cups and saucers. And
bending his old eyes on the fire, he smiled, and an in-
domitable expression of energetic resolve strengthened every
line of his features.
" You mean to have every penny out of me that you
can, my dear, do you ! " he said, softly " And so if Love
can find out the way you will ! "
CHAPTER XVI
THE winter now closed in apace, and though the foliage
all about Weircombe was reluctant to fall, and kept its
green, russet and gold tints well on into December, the
high gales which blew in from the sea played havoc with
the trembling leaves at last and brought them to the ground
like the painted fragments of Summer's ruined temple.
All the fishermen's boats were hauled up high and dry,
and great stretches of coarse net like black webs, were
spread out on the beach for drying and mending, while
through the tunnels scooped out of the tall castellated rocks
which guarded either side of the little port, or " weir," the
great billows dashed with a thunderous roar of melody,
oftentimes throwing aloft fountains of spray well-nigh a
hundred feet in height spray which the wild wind caught
and blew in pellets of salty foam far up the little village
street. Helmsley was now kept a prisoner indoors, he
had not sufficient strength to buffet with a gale, or to
stand any unusually sharp nip of cold, so he remained
very comfortably by the side of the fire, making baskets,
which he was now able to turn out quickly with quite an
admirable finish, owing to the zeal and earnestness with
which he set himself to the work. Mary's business in the
winter months was entirely confined to the lace-mending
she had no fine laundry work to do, and her time was passed
in such household duties as kept her little cottage sweet
and clean, in attentive guardianship and care of her
" father's friend " and in the delicate weaving of threads
whereby the fine fabric which had once perchance been dam-
aged and spoilt by flaunting pride, was made whole and
beautiful again by simple patience. Helmsley was never
tired of watching her. Whether she knelt down with a pail
of suds, and scrubbed her cottage doorstep or whether
she sat quietly opposite to him, with the small " Charlie "
snuggled on a rug between them, while she mended her lace,
his eyes always rested upon her with deepening interest and
tenderness. And he grew daily more conscious of a great
peace and happiness peace and happiness such as he had
258
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 259
never known since his boyhood's days. He, who had found
the ways of modern society dull to the last point of ex-
cruciating boredom, was not aware of any monotony in
the daily round of the hours, which, laden with simple
duties and pleasures, came and went softly and slowly like
angel messengers stepping gently from one heaven to an-
other. The world or that which is called the world,
had receded from him altogether. Here, where he had
found a shelter, there was no talk of finance the claims
of the perpetual " bridge " party had vanished like the
misty confusion of a bad dream from the brain the unut-
terably vulgar intrigues common to the so-called " better "
class of twentieth century humanity could not intrude any
claim on his attention or his time the perpetual lending
of money to perpetually dishonest borrowers was, for the
present, a finished task and he felt himself to be a free
man far freer than he had been for many years. And,
to add to the interest of his days, he became engrossed in
a scheme a strange scheme which built itself up in his
head like a fairy palace, wherein everything beautiful, grace-
ful, noble, helpful and precious, found place and position,
and grew from promise to fulfilment as easily as a perfect
rosebud ripens to a perfect rose. But he said nothing of
his thoughts. He hugged them, as it were, to himself, and
toyed with them as though they were jewels, precious
jewels selected specially to be set in a crown of inestimable
worth. Meanwhile his health kept fairly equable, though
he was well aware within his own consciousness that he did
not get stronger. But he was strong enough to be merry
at times and his kindly temper and cheery conversation
made him a great favourite with the Weircombe folk, who
were never tired of " looking in " as they termed it, on
Mary, and " 'avin' a bit of a jaw with old David."
Sociable evenings they had too, during that winter
evenings when Angus Reay came in to tea and stayed to
supper, and after supper entertained them by singing in
a deep baritone voice as soft as honey, the old Scotch
songs now so hopelessly " out of fashion " such as " My
Nannie O "- " Ae fond kiss "and " Highland Mary," in
which last exquisite ballad he was always at his best. And
Mary sang also, accompanying herself on a quaint old
Hungarian zither, which she said had been left with her
father as guarantee for ten shillings which he had lent
260 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
to a street musician wandering about Barnstaple. The
street musician disappeared and the ten shillings were never
returned, so Mary took possession of the zither, and with
the aid of a cheap instruction book, managed to learn enough
of its somewhat puzzling technique to accompany her own
voice with a few full, rich, plaintive chords. And it was
in this fashion that Angus heard her first sing what she
called " A song of the sea," running thus :
I heard the sea cry out in the night
Like a fretful child
Moaning under the pale moonlight
In a passion wild
And my heart cried out with the sea, in tears,
For the sweet lost joys of my vanished years!
I heard the sea laugh out in the noon
Like a girl at play
All forgot was the mournful moon
In the dawn of day!
And my heart laughed out with the sea, in gladness,
And I thought no more of bygone sadness.
I think the sea is a part of me
With its gloom and glory
What Has Been, and what yet Shall Be
Is all its story;
Rise up, O Heart, with the tidal flow,
And drown the sorrows of Long Ago!
Something eerie and mystical there was in these words,
sung as she sang them in a low, soft, contralto, sustained
by the pathetic quiver of the zither strings throbbing under
the pressure of her white fingers, and Angus asked her
where she had learned the song.
" I found it," she answered, somewhat evasively.
" Did you compose it yourself ? "
She flushed a little.
" How can you imagine such a thing ? "
He was silent, but " imagined " the more. And after
this he began to show her certain scenes and passages in
the book he was writing, sometimes reading them aloud to
her with all that eager eloquence which an author who
loves and feels his work is bound to convey into the pro-
nounced expression of it. And she listened, absorbed and
often entranced, for there was no gain-saying the fact that
Angus Reay was a man of genius. He was inclined to un-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 261
derrate rather than overestimate his own abilities, and often
showed quite a pathetic mistrust of himself in his very best
and most original conceptions.
" When I read to you," he said to her, one day " You
must tell me the instant you feel bored. That's a great
point! Because if you feel bored, other people who read
the book will feel bored exactly as you do and at the very
same passage. And you must criticise me mercilessly !
Rend me to pieces tear my sentences to rags, and pick
holes in every detail, if you like ! That will do me a world
of good!"
Mary laughed.
" But why ? " she asked, " Why do you want me to be
so unkind to you? "
" It won't be unkind," he declared " It will be very
helpful. And I'll tell you why. There's no longer any
real ' criticism ' of literary work in the papers nowadays.
There's only extravagant eulogium written up by an author's
personal friends and wormed somehow into the press or
equally extravagant abuse, written and insinuated in simi-
lar fashion by an author's personal enemies. Well now,
you can't live without having both friends and enemies
you generally have more of the latter than the former,
particularly if you are successful. There's nothing a lazy
man won't do to ' down ' an industrious one, nothing an
unknown scrub won't attempt in the way of trying to in-
jure a great fame. It's a delightful world for that sort
of thing ! so truly * Christian,' pleasant and charitable !
But the consequence of all these mean and petty ' personal '
views of life is, that sound, unbiased, honest literary criti-
cism is a dead art. You can't get it anywhere. And yet if
you could, there's nothing that would be so helpful, or so
strengthening to a man's work. It would make him put
his best foot foremost. I should like to think that my
book when it comes out, would be * reviewed ' by a man
who had no prejudices, no ' party ' politics, no personal
feeling for or against me, but who simply and solely con-
sidered it from an impartial, thoughtful, just and generous
point of view taking it as a piece of work done honestly
and from a deep sense of conviction. Criticism from fel-
lows who just turn over the pages of a book to find fault
casually wherever they can (I've seen them at it in news-
paper offices!) or to quote unfairly mere scraps of sentences
262 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
without context, or to fly off into a whirlwind of personal
and scurrilous calumnies against an author whom they don't
know, and perhaps never will know, that sort of thing
is quite useless to me. It neither encourages nor angers
me. It is a mere flabby exhibition of incompetency much
as if a jelly-fish should try to fight a sea-gull! Now you,
if you criticise me, your criticism will be valuable, be-
cause it will be quite honest there will be no ' personal '
feeling in it "
She raised her eyes to his and smiled.
"No?"
Something warm and radiant in her glance flashed into
his soul and thrilled it strangely. Vaguely startled by an
impression which he did not try to analyse, he went on
hastily " No because you see you are neither my friend
nor my enemy, are you ? "
She was quite silent.
" I mean," he continued, blundering along somewhat
lamely, " You don't hate me very much, and you don't
like me very much. I'm just an ordinary man to you.
Therefore you're bound to be perfectly impartial, because
what I do is a matter of * personal ' indifference to you.
That's why your criticism will be so helpful and valuable."
She bent her head closely over the lace she was mend-
ing for a minute or two, as though she were making a very
intricate knot. Then she looked up again.
" Well, if you wish it, I'll tell you just what I think,"
she said, quietly " But you mustn't call it criticism. I'm
not clever enough to judge a book. I only know what
pleases me, and what pleases me may not please the
world. I know very little about authors, and I've taught
myself all that I do know. I love Shakespeare, but I
could not explain to you why I love him, because I'm not
clever enough. I only feel his work, I feel that it's all
right and beautiful and wonderful but I couldn't criti-
cise it."
" No one can, no one should ! " said Reay, warmly
" Shakespeare is above all criticism ! "
" But is he not always being criticised ? " she asked.
" Yes. By little men who cannot understand greatness,"
he answered " It gives a kind of ' scholarly importance '
to the little men, but it leaves the great one unscathed."
This talk led to many others of a similar nature between
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
them, and Reay's visits to Mary's cottage became more
and more frequent. David Helmsley, weaving his baskets
day by day, began to weave something more delicate and
uncommon than the withes of willow, a weaving whicli
went on in his mind far more actively than the twisting and
plaiting of the osiers in his hands. Sometimes in the even r
ings, when work was done, and he sat in his comfortable
easy chair by the fire watching Mary at her sewing anq
Angus talking earnestly to her, he became so absorbed in his
own thoughts that he scarcely heard their voices, and often
when they spoke to him, he started from a profound reverie,
unconscious of their words. But it was not the feebleness
or weariness of age that made him seem at times indifferent
to what was going on around him it was the intensity and
fervour of a great and growing idea of happiness in his
soul, an idea which he cherished so fondly and in such
close secrecy, as to be almost afraid to whisper it to himself
lest by some unhappy chance it should elude his grasp and
vanish into nothingness.
And so the time went on to Christmas and New Year.
Weircombe kept these festivals very quietly, yet not with-
out cheerfulness. There was plenty of holly about, and
the children, plunging into the thick of the woods at the
summit of the " coombe " found mistletoe enough for the
common need. The tiny Church was prettily decorated
by the rector's wife and daughters, assisted by some of
the girls of the village, and everybody attended service
on Christmas morning, not only because it was Christmas,
but because it was the last time their own parson would
preach to them, before he went away for three months or
more to a warm climate for the benefit of his health. But
Helmsley did not join the little crowd of affectionate parish-
ioners he stayed at home while Mary went, as she said
" to pray for him." He watched her from the open cottage
door, as she ascended the higher part of the " coombe,"
dressed in a simple stuff gown of darkest blue, with a prim
little " old maid's " bonnet, as she called it, tied neatly under
her rounded white chin and carrying in her hand a much
worn " Book of Common Prayer " which she held with
a certain delicate reverence not often shown to holy things
by the church-going women of the time. Weircombe
Church had a small but musical chime of bells, presented
to it by a former rector and the silvery sweetness of the
264 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
peal just now ringing was intensified by the close prox-
imity of the mountain stream, which, rendered somewhat
turbulent by recent rains, swept along in a deep swift cur-
rent, carrying the melody of the chimes along with it down
to the sea and across the waves in broken pulsation, till
they touched with a faint mysterious echo the masts of
home-returning ships, and brought a smile to the faces of
sailors on board who, recognising the sound, said " Weir-
Scombe bells, sure-fy / "
Helmsley stood listening, lost in meditation. To any-
one who could have seen him then, a bent frail figure just
within the cottage door, with his white hair, white beard,
and general appearance of gentle and resigned old age, he
would have seemed nothing more than a venerable peasant,
quietly satisfied with his simple surroundings, and as far
apart from every association of wealth, as the daisy in
the grass is from the star in the sky. Yet, in actual fact,
his brain was busy weighing millions of money, the fate
of an accumulated mass of wealth hung on the balance of
his decision, and he was mentally arranging his plans
with all the clearness, precision and practicality which had
distinguished him in his biggest financial schemes, schemes
which had from time to time amazed and convulsed the
speculating world. A certain wistful sadness touched him
as he looked on the quiet country landscape in the wintry
sunlight of this Christmas morn, some secret instinctive
foreboding told him that it might be the last Christmas
he should ever see. And a sudden wave of regret swept
over his soul, regret that he had not appreciated the sweet
things of life more keenly when he had been able to enjoy
their worth. So many simple joys missed! so many
gracious and helpful sentiments discarded! all the best
of his years given over to eager pursuit of gold, not be-
cause he cared for gold really, but because, owing to a
false social system which perverted the moral sense, it
seemed necessary to happiness. Yet he had proved it to
be the very last thing that could make a man happy. The
more money, the less enjoyment of it the greater the
wealth, the less the content. Was this according to law ?
the ^ spiritual law of compensation, which works steadily
behind every incident which we may elect to call good or
evil ? He thought it must be so. This very festival Christ-
mas how thoroughly he had been accustomed by an effete
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 265
and degenerate " social set " to regard it as a " bore,"
an exploded superstition a saturnalia of beef and pudding
a something which merely served as an excuse for throw-
ing away good money on mere stupid sentiment. " Stupid "
sentiment? Had he ever thought true, tender, homely senti-
ment " stupid " ? Yes, perhaps he had, when in the bold
carelessness of full manhood he had assumed that the race
was to the swift and the battle to the strong but now, when
the shadows were falling when, perhaps, he would never
hear the Christmas bells again, or be troubled by the " silly
superstitions " of loving, praying, hoping, believing hu-
manity, he would have given much could he have gone back
in fancy to every Christmas of his life and seen each one
spent cheerily amid the warm associations of such " senti-
ments " as make friendship valuable and lasting. He looked
up half vaguely at the sky, clear blue on this still frosty
morning, and was conscious of tears that crept smartingly
behind his eyes and for a moment dimmed his sight. And
he murmured dreamily
"Behold we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last far off at last, to all
And every winter change to spring ! "
A tall, athletic figure came between him and the light,
and Angus Reay's voice addressed him
" Hullo, David ! A merry Christmas to you ! Do you
know you are standing out in the cold ? What would Miss
Mary say ? "
" Miss Mary " was the compromise Angus hit upon be-
tween " Miss Deane " and " Mary," considering the first
term too formal, and the last too familiar.
Helmsley smiled.
" Miss Mary has gone to church," he replied " I
thought you had gone too."
Reay gave a slight gesture of mingled regret and an-
noyance.
" No I never go to church," he said " But don't
you think I despise the going. Not I. I wish I could go
to church ! I'd give anything to go as I used to do with
my father every Sunday."
" And why can't you ? "
" Because the church is not what it used to be," declared
266 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Reay " Don't get me on that argument, David, or I shall
never cease talking ! Now, see here ! if you stand any
longer at that open door you'll get a chill ! You go inside
the house and imitate Charlie's- example look at him ! "
And he pointed to the tiny toy terrier snuggled up as usual
in a ball of silky comfort on the warm hearth " Small
epicure! Come back to your chair, David, and sit by the
fire your hands are quite cold."
Helmsley yielded to the persuasion, not because he felt
cold, but because he was rather inclined to be alone with
Reay for a little. They entered the house and shut the
door.
" Doesn't it look a different place without her ! " said
Angus, glancing round the trim little kitchen " As neat as
a pin, of course, but all the life gone from it."
Helmsley smiled, but did not answer. Seating himself
in his arm-chair, he spread out his thin old hands to the
bright fire, and watched Reay as he stood near the hearth,
leaning one arm easily against a rough beam which ran
across the chimney piece.
" She is a wonderful woman ! " went on Reay, musingly ;
" She has a power of which she is scarcely conscious."
" And what is that ? " asked Helmsley, slowly rubbing
his hands with quite an abstracted air.-
Angus laughed lightly, though a touch of colour red-
dened his bronzed cheeks.
" The power that the old alchemists sought and never
could find ! " he answered " The touch that transmutes
common metals to fine gold, and changes the every-day
prose of life to poetry."
Helmsley went on rubbing his hands slowly.
" It's so extraordinary, don't you think, David," he con-
tinued " that there should be such a woman as Miss Mary
alive at all ? "
Helmsley looked up at him questioningly, but said
nothing.
" I mean," and Angus threw out his hand with an im-
petuous gesture "that considering all the abominable,
farcical tricks women play nowadays, it is simply amazing
to find one who is contented with a simple life like this,
and who manages to make that simple life so gracious and
beautiful ! "
Still Helmsley was silent.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 267
" Now, just think of that girl I've told you about Lucy
Sorrel," proceeded Angus " Nothing would have con-
tented her in all this world ! "
" Not even her old millionaire ? " suggested Helmsley,
placidly.
" No, certainly not ! Poor old devil ! He'll soon find
himself put on the shelf if he marries her. He won't T)e
able to call his soul his own! If he gives her diamonds,
she'll want more diamonds if he covers her and stuffs
her with money, she'll never have enough ! She'll want all
she can get out of him while he lives and everything he has
ever possessed when he's dead."
Helmsley rubbed his hands more vigorously together.
" A very nice young lady," he murmured. " Very nice
indeed! But if you judge her in this way now, why did
you ever fall in love with her ? "
" She was pretty, David ! " and Reay smiled " That's
all! My passion for her was skin-deep! And hers for
me didn't even touch the cuticle ! She was pretty as pretty
as a wax-doll, perfect eyes, perfect hair, perfect figure,
perfect complexion ugh ! how I hate perfection ! "
And taking up the poker, he gave a vigorous blow to a
hard lump of coal in the grate, and split it into a blaze.
" I hate perfection ! " he resumed " Or rather, I hate
what passes for perfection, for, as a matter of fact, there's
nothing perfect. And I specially and emphatically hate
the woman that considers herself a * beauty/ that gets
herself photographed as a ' beauty,' that the press reporter
speaks of as a ' beauty,' and that affronts you with her
' beauty ' whenever you look at her, as though she were
some sort of first-class goods for sale. Now Miss Mary
is a beautiful woman and she doesn't seem to know it."
" Her time for vanity is past," said Helmsley, senten-
tiously " She is an old maid."
" Old maid be shot ! " exclaimed Angus, impetuously
" By Jove ! Any man might be proud to marry her ! "
A keen, sharp glance, as incisive as any that ever flashed
up and down the lines of a business ledger, gleamed from
under Helmsley's fuzzy brows.
" Would you ? " he asked.
" Would I marry her ? " And Angus reddened suddenly
like a boy " Dear old David, bless you! That's just what
I want you to help me to do ! "
268 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
For a moment such a great wave of triumph swept over
Helmsley's soul that he could not speak. But he mastered
his emotion by an effort.
" I'm afraid," he said " I'm afraid I should be no use
to you in such a business, you'd much better speak to her
yourself "
" Why, of course I mean to speak to her myself," inter-
rupted Reay, warmly " Don't be dense, David ! You don't
suppose I want you to speak for me, do you? Not a bit
of it! Only before I speak, I do wish you could find out
whether she likes me a little because because I'm afraid
she doesn't look upon me at all in that light "
" In what light ? " queried Helmsley, gently.
" As a lover," replied Angus " She's given up think-
ing of lovers."
Helmsley leaned back in his chair, and clasping his hands
together so that the tips of his fingers met, looked over
them in almost the same meditative business-like way as
he had looked at Lucy Sorrel when he had questioned her
as to her ideas of her future.
" Well, naturally she has," he answered " Lovers have
given up thinking of her 1 ."
" I hope they have ! " said Angus, fervently " I hope
I have no rivals! For my love for her is a jealous love,
David! I must be all in all to her, or nothing! I must be
the very breath of her breath, the life of her life ! I must !
or I am no use to her. And I want to be of use. I want
to work for her, to look upon her as the central point of
all my actions the very core of ambition and endeavour,
so that everything I do may be well done enough to meet
with her praise. If she does not like it, it will be worthless.
For her soul is as pure as the sunlight and as full of great
depths as the sea ! Simplest and sweetest of women as
she is, she has enough of God in her to make a man live
up to the best that is in him ! "
His voice thrilled with passion as he spoke and Helms-
ley felt a strange contraction at his heart a pang of sharp
memory, desire and regret all in one, which moved him to
a sense of yearning for this love which he had never
known this divine and wonderful emotion whose power
could so transform a man as to make him seem a very king
among men. For so Angus Reay looked just now, with
his eyes flashing unutterable tenderness, and his whole as-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 269
pect expressive of a great hope born of a great ideal. But
he restrained the feeling that threatened to over-master
him, and merely said very quietly, and with a smile
" I see you are very much in love with her, Mr. Reay ! "
" In love ? " Angus laughed " No, my dear old David !
I'm not a bit ' in love.' I love her ! That's love with a dif-
ference. But you know how it is with me. I haven't a
penny in the world but just what I told you must last me
for a year and I don't know when I shall make any more.
So that I wouldn't be such a cad as to speak to her about
it yet. But if I could only get a little hope, if I could
just find out whether she liked me a little, that would give
me more energy in my work, don't you see? And that's
where you could help me, David ! "
Helmsley smiled ever so slightly.
" Tell me how," he said.
" Well, you might talk to her sometimes and ask her
if she ever thinks of getting married "
" I have done that," interrupted Helmsley " and she
has always said ' No.' "
" Never mind what she has said ask her again, David,"
persisted Angus " And then lead her on little by little
to talk about me "
" Lead her on to talk about you ves ! " and Helmsley
nodded his head sagaciously.
" David, my dear old man, you will interrupt me,"
and Angus laughed like a boy " Lead her on, I say,
and find out whether she likes me ever so little and
then "
" And then ? " queried Helmsley, his old eyes beginning
to sparkle " Must I sing your praises to her?"
" Sing my praises ! No, by Jove ! there's nothing to
praise in me. I don't want you to say a word, David.
Let her speak hear what she says and then and then
tell me!"
" Then tell you yes yes, I see ! " And Helmsley nod-
ded again in a fashion that was somewhat trying to Reay's
patience. " But, suppose she finds fault with you, and says
you are not at all the style of man she likes what then ? "
" Then," said Reay, gloomily " my book will never be
finished ! "
" Dear, dear ! " Helmsley raised his hands with a very
well acted gesture of timid concern" So bad as all that ! "
2,TO THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" So bad as all that ! " echoed Reay, with a quick sigh ;
" Qr rather so good as all that. I don't know how it has
happened, David, but she has quite suddenly become the
very life of my work. I don't think I could get on with
a single page of it, if I didn't feel that I could go to her
and ask her what she thinks of it."
" But," said Helmsley, in a gentle, argumentative way
" all this is very strange ! She is not an educated woman."
Reay laughed lightly.
" No ? What do you call an educated woman, David ? "
Helmsley thought a moment. The situation was a little
difficult, for he had to be careful not to say too much.
" Well, I mean," he said, at last" She is not a lady."
Reay's eyes flashed sudden indignation.
" Not a lady ! " he ejaculated " Good God ! Who is a
lady then?"
Helmsley glanced at him covertly. How fine the man
looked, with his tall, upright figure, strong, thoughtful face,
and air of absolute determination!"
" I'm afraid," he murmured, humbly " I'm afraid I
don't know how to express myself, but what I want to say
is that she is not what the world would call a lady, just
a simple lace-mender, real ' ladies ' would not ask her to
their nouses, or make a friend of her, perhaps "
" She's a simple lace-mender, I was a common cow-
herd," said Angus, grimly " Do you think those whom
the world calls 'ladies' would make a friend of me?"
Helmsley smiled.
" You're a man and to women it doesn't matter what
a man was, so long as he is something. You were a cow-
herd, as you say but you educated yourself at a University
and got a degree.. In that way you've raised yourself to
the rank of a gentlemen "
" I was always that," declared Angus, boldly, " even
as a cowherd ! Your arguments won't hold with me, David !
A gentleman is not made by a frock coat and top hat. And
a lady is not a lady because she wears fine clothes and
speaks one or two foreign languages very badly. For that's
about all a ' lady's ' education amounts to nowadays. Ac-
cording to Victorian annals, ' ladies ' used to be fairly
acomplished they played and sang music well, and knew
that it was necessary to keep up intelligent conversation
and maintain graceful manners but they've gone back to
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 271
sheer barbarism in the frantic ugliness of their performances
at hockey and they've taken to the repulsive vices of
Charles the Second's time in gambling and other immorali-
ties. No, David ! I don't take kindly to the ' ladies ' who
disport themselves under the benevolent dispensation of
King Edward the Seventh."
Helmsley was silent. After a pause, Reay went on
" You see, David, I'm a poor chap poorer than Mary
is. If I could get a hundred, or say, two hundred pounds
for my book when it is finished, I could ask her to marry
me then, because I could bring that money to her and do
something to keep up the home. I never want anything
sweeter or prettier than this little cottage to live in. If
she would let me share it with her as her husband, we
should live a perfectly happy life a life that thousands
would envy us ! That is, of course, if she loved me."
" Ay ! that's a very important ' if,' " said Helmsley.
" I know it is. That's why I want you to help me to
find out her mind, David will you ? Because, if you should
discover that I am objectionable to her in any way, it would
be better for me, I think, to go straight away from Weir-
combe, and fight my trouble out by myself. Then, you see,
she would never know that I wanted to bother her with
my life-long presence. Because she's very happy as she
is, her face has all the lovely beauty of perfect content
and I'd rather do anything than trouble her peace."
There followed a pause. The fire crackled and burned
with a warm Christmas glow, and Charlie, uncurling his
soft silky body, stretched out each one of his tiny paws sepa-
rately, with slow movements expressive of intense comfort.
If ever that little dog had known what it was to lie in the
lap of luxury amid aristocratic surroundings, it was cer-
tain that he was conscious of being as well off in a poor
cottage as in a palace of a king. And after a minute or
two, Helmsley raised himself in his chair and held out his
hand to Angus Reay, who grasped it warmly.
" I'll do my best," he said, quietly " I know what you
mean and I think your feeling does you honour. Of
course you know I'm only a kind of stranger here just
a poor old lonely man, very dependent on Miss Deane for
her care of me, and trying my best to show that I'm not
ungrateful to her for all her goodness and I mustn't pre-
sume too far but I'll do my best. And I hope I hope
272 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
all will be well ! " He paused and pressed Reay's hand
again then glanced up at the quaint sheep-faced clock that
ticked monotonously against the kitchen wall. " She will
be coming back from church directly," he continued
" Won't you go and meet her ? "
" Shall I ? " And Reay's face brightened.
"Do!"
Another moment, and Helmsley was alone save for the
silent company of the little dog stretched out upon the
hearth. And he lost himself in a profound reverie, the
while he built a castle in the air of his own designing, in
which Self had no part. How many airy fabrics of beauty
and joy had he not raised one after the other in his mind,
only to see them crumble into dust! but this one, as he
planned it in his thoughts, nobly uplifted above all petty
limits, with all the light of a broad beneficence shining upon
it, and a grand obliteration of his own personality serving
as the very corner-stone of its foundation, seemed likely
to be something resembling the house spoken of by Christ,
which was built upon a rock against which neither winds,
nor rains, nor floods could prevail. And when Mary came
back from Church, with Reay accompanying her, she found
him looking very happy. In fact, she told him he had
quite " a Christmas face."
"What is a Christmas face, Mary?" he asked, smiling.
" Don't you know ? A face that looks glad because other
people are glad," she replied, simply.
An expressive glance flashed from Reay's eyes, a glance
which Helmsley caught and understood in all its eloquent
meaning.
" We had quite a touching little sermon this morning,"
she went on, untying her bonnet strings, and taking off
that unassuming head-gear " It was just a homely sim-
ple, kind talk. Our parson's sorry to be going away, but
he hopes to be back with us at the beginning of April, fit
and well again. He's looking badly, poor soul! I felt a
bit like crying when he wished us all a bright Christmas
and happy New Year, and said he hoped God would allow
him to see us all again."
" Who is going to take charge of the parish in his ab-
sence ? " asked Reay.
" A Mr. Arbroath. He isn't a very popular man in these
parts, and I can't think why he has volunteered to come
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 273
here, seeing he's got several parishes of his own on the
other side of Dunster to attend to. But I'm told he also
wants a change so he's got some one to take his duties,
and he is coming along to us. Of courste, it's well known
that he likes to try a new parish whenever he can."
" Has he any reason for that special taste ? " enquired
Reay.
" Oh yes ! " answered Mary, quietly " He's a great High
Churchman, and he wants to introduce Mass vestments and
the confessional whenever he can. Some people say that
he receives an annual payment from Rome for doing this
kind of work."
" Another form of the Papal secret service ! " commented
Reay, drily " I understand ! I've seen enough of it ! "
Mary had taken a clean tablecloth from an oaken press,
and was spreading it out for dinner.
" Well," she said, smilingly, " he won't find it very ad-
vantageous to him to take the duties here. For every man
and woman in the village intends to keep away from Church
altogether if he does not give us our services exactly as we
have always been accustomed to them. And it won't be
pleasant for him to read prayers and preach to empty seats,
will it?"
"Scarcely!"
And Angus, standing near the fire, bent his brows with
meditative sternness on the glowing flames. Then sud-
denly addressing Helmsley, he said " You asked me a
while ago, David, why I didn't go to Church. I told you
I wished I could go, as I used to do with my father every
Sunday. For, when I was a boy, our Sundays were real
devotional days our preachers felt what they preached, and
when they told us to worship the great Creator ' in spirit
and in truth,' we knew they were in earnest about it. Now,
religion is made a mere ' party ' system a form of struggle
as to which sect can get the most money for its own pur-
poses. Christ, the grand, patient, long-suffering Ideal of
all goodness, is gone from it! How can He remain with
it while it is such a Sham ! Our bishops in England truckle
to Rome and, Rome itself is employing every possible
means to tamper with the integrity of the British constitu-
tion. The spies and emissaries of Rome are everywhere
both in our so-called ' national ' Church and in our most
distinctly wn-national Press ! "
274 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Helmsley listened with keen interest. As a man of busi-
ness, education, observation, and discernment, he knew
that what Reay said was true, but in his assumed role of
a poor and superannuated old office clerk, who had been
turned adrift from work by reason of age and infirmities,
he had always to be on his guard against expressing his
opinion too openly or frankly.
" I don't know much about the newspapers," he said,
mildly " I read those I can get, just for the news but
there isn't much news, it appears to me "
" And what there is may be contradicted in an hour's
time," said Angus " I tell you, David, when I started
working in journalism, I thought it was the finest profes-
sion going. It seemed to me to have all the responsibilities
of the world on its back. I considered it a force with which
to educate, help, and refine all peoples, and all classes. But
I found it was only a money speculation after all. How
much profit could be made out of it? That was the chief
point of action. That was the mainspring of every political
discussion and in election times, one side had orders to
abuse the other, merely to keep up the popular excitement.
By Jove! I should like to take a select body of electors
' behind the scenes ' of a newspaper office and show them
how the whole business is run ! "
" You know too much, evidently ! " said Mary smiling
" I don't wonder you were dismissed ! "
He laughed then as suddenly frowned.
" I swear as I stand here," he said emphatically, " that
the press is not serving the people well ! Do you know
no, of course you don't! but I can tell you for a fact
that a short time ago an offer was made from America
through certain financial powers in the city, to buy up
several of the London dailies, and run them on American
lines ! x Germany had a finger in the pie, too, through her
German Jews ! "
Helmsley looked at his indignant face with a slight im-
perceptible smile.
" Well ! " he said, with a purposely miscomprehending
air.
" Well ! You say ' Well,' David, as if such a proposi-
tion contained nothing remarkable. That's because you
don't understand ! Imagine for a moment the British Press
being run by America ! "
1 A fact.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 275
Helmsley stroked his beard thoughtfully.
" I can't imagine it," he said.
" No of course you can't ! But a few rascally city finan-
ciers could imagine it, and more than that, were prepared
to carry the thing through. Then, the British people would
have been led, guided, advised, and controlled by a Yankee
syndicate! And the worst of it is that this same British
people would have been kept in ignorance of the ' deal. '
They would actually have been paying their pennies to keep
up the shares of a gang of unscrupulous rascals whose sole
end and object was to get the British press into their power!
Think of it ! "
" But did they succeed ? " asked Helmsley.
" No, they didn't. Somebody somewhere had a con-
science. Somebody somewhere refused to ' swop ' the na-
tion's much boasted ' liberty of the press ' for so much
cash down. I believe the ' Times ' is backed by the Roths-
childs, and managed by American advertisers I don't know
whether it is so or not but I do know that the public
ought to be put on their guard. If I were a powerful man
and a powerful speaker I would call mass meetings every-
where, and urge the people not to purchase a single news-
paper till each one published in its columns a full and honest
list of the shareholders concerned in it. Then the public
would have a chance of seeing where they are. At present
they don't know where they are."
" Well, you know very well where you are ! " said Mary,
interrupting him at this juncture " You are in my house,
it's Christmas Day, and dinner's ready ! "
He laughed, and they all three sat down to table. It
had been arranged for fully a week before that Angus
should share his Christmas dinner with Mary and " old
David " and a very pleasant and merry meal they made
of it. And in the afternoon and evening some of the vil-
lagers came in to gossip and there was singing of songs,
and one or two bashful attempts on the part of certain
gawky lads to kiss equally gawky girls under the mistletoe.
And Mary, as hostess of the hap-hazard little party, did her
best to promote kindly feeling among them all, effacing
herself so utterly, and playing the " old maid " with such
sweet and placid loveliness that Angus became restless,
and was moved by a feverish desire to possess himself
of one of the little green twigs with white berries, which,
276 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
looking so innocent, were apparently so provocative, and to
try its effect by holding it suddenly above the glorious
masses of her brown hair, which shone with the soft and
shimmering hue of evening sunlight. But he dared not.
Kissing under the mistletoe was all very well for boys and
girls but for a mature bachelor of thirty-nine and an " old
maid " of thirty-five, these uncouth and calf-like gambol-
lings lacked dignity. Moreover, when he looked at Mary's
pure profile the beautifully shaped eyes, classic mouth, and
exquisite line of neck and shoulder, the very idea of touch-
ing those lips with a kiss given in mere lightness, seemed
fraught with impertinence and irreverence. If ever he
kissed Mary, he thought, and then all the powers of his
mind galloped off like wild horses let loose on a sun-baked
ranch if ever he kissed Mary! What a dream! what
a boldness unprecedented! But again if ever he kissed
her, it must be with the kiss of a lover, for whom such a
token of endearment was the sign of a sacred betrothal.
And he became so lost and abstracted in his musings that
he almost forgot the simple village merriment around him,
and only came back to himself a little when the party broke
up altogether, and he himself had to say " good-night,"
and go with the rest. Mary, while giving him her hand in
farewell, looked at him with a sisterly solicitude.
" You're tired, Mr. Reay," she said " I'm afraid we've
been too noisy for you, haven't we? But one can't keep
boys and girls quiet ! "
" I don't want them kept quiet," said Reay, holding
her hand very hard " And I'm not tired. I've only been
thinking."
"Ah! Of your book?"
" Yes. Of my book."
He went then, and came no more to the cottage till a
week later when it was New Year's Eve. This they cele-
brated very quietly just they three alone. Mary thought
it somewhat imprudent for " old David " to sit up till mid-
night in order to hear the bells " ring out the Old, ring in
the New " but he showed a sudden vigorous resolution
about it which was not to be gainsaid.
" Let me have my way, my dear," he implored her " I
may never see another New Year ! "
" Nonsense, David ! " she said cheerily " You will see
many and many a one, please God ! "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 277
" Please God, I shall ! " he answered, quietly " But if
it should not please God then "
" There ! you want to stay up, and you shall stay up ! "
she declared, smiling " After all, as Mr. Reay is with us,
the time won't perhaps seem so long for you."
" But for you," put in Angus " it will seem very long
won't it ! "
" Oh, I always sit up for the coming-in of the New
Year," she replied " Father used to do it, and I like
to keep up all father's ways. Only I thought David might
feel too tired. You must sing to us, Mr. Reay, to pass
the hours away."
" And so must you ! " he replied.
And she did sing that night as she had never sung to
them before, with a fuller voice and more passion than she
had hitherto shown, one little wild ballad in particular
taking Reay's fancy so much that he asked her to sing it
more than once. The song contained just three six-line
stanzas, having little merit save in their suggestiveness.
Oh love, my love! I have giv'n you my heart
Like a rose full-blown,
With crimson petals trembling apart
It is all your own
What will you do with it, Dearest, say?
Keep it for ever or throw it away?
Oh love, my love! I have giv'n you my life,
Like a ring of gold;
Symbol of peace in a world of strife,
To have and to hold.
What will you do with it, Dearest, say?
Treasure it always, or throw it away?
Oh love, my love ! Have all your will
I am yours to the end ;
Be false or faithful comfort or kill,
Be lover or friend,
Where gifts are given they must remain,
I never shall ask for them back again !
" Do you know that you have a very beautiful voice, Miss
Mary ? " said Angus, after hearing this for the second
time.
" Oh, I don't think so at all," she answered, quickly ;
" Father used to like to hear me sing but I can only just
give ballads their meaning, and pronounce the words care-
278 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
fully so the people may know what I am trying to sing
about. I've no real voice."
" You have ! " And Angus turned to Helmsley for his
opinion " Hasn't she, David ? "
" Her voice is the sweetest / ever heard," replied Helms-
ley " But then I'm not much of a judge."
And his thoughts went roving back to certain enter-
tainments in London which he had given for the benefit
of his wealthy friends, when he had paid as much as five
or six hundred guineas in fees to famous opera singers,
that they might shriek or warble, as their respective talents
dictated, to crowds of indifferent loungers in his rooms,
who cared no more for music than they did for religion.
He almost smiled as he recalled those nights, and con-
trasted them with this New Year's evening, when seated
in an humble cottage, he had for his companions only a
lowly-born poor woman, and an equally lowly-born poor
man, both of whom evinced finer education, better manners,
greater pride of spirit, and more resolute independence than
nine-tenths of the " society " people who had fawned upon
him and flattered him, simply because they knew he was a
millionaire. And the charm of his present position was
that these two, poor, lowly-born people were under the
impression that even in their poverty and humility they were
better off than he was, and that because fortune had been,
as they considered, kind to them, they were bound to treat
him in a way that should not remind him of his dependent
and defenceless condition. It was impossible to imagine
greater satisfaction than that which he enjoyed in the
contemplation of his own actual situation as compared with
that which he had impressed upon the minds of these two
friends of his who had given him their friendship trustingly
and frankly for himself alone. And he listened placidly,
with folded hands and half shut eyes, while Angus, at
Mary's request, trolled forth " The Standard on the Braes
o' Mar " and " Sound the pibroch," varying those war-
like ditties with " Jock o' Hazledean," and " Will ye no
come back again," till all suddenly Mary rose from her
chair, and with her finger to her lips said " Hark ! " The
church-bells were ringing out the Old Year, and glancing
at the clock, they saw it wanted but ten minutes to midnight.
Softly Mary stepped to the cottage door and opened it.
The chime swung melodiously in, and Angus Reay went
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 279
to the threshold, and stood beside Mary, listening. Had
they glanced back that instant they would have seen Helms-
ley looking at them both, with an intensity of yearning in
his pale face and sad old eyes that was pitiful and earnest
beyond all expression they would have seen his lips move,
as he murmured " God grant that I may make their lives
beautiful ! God give me this peace of mind before I die !
God bless them ! " But they were absorbed in listening
and presently with a deep clang the bells ceased. Mary
turned her head.
' The Old Year's out, David ! "
Then she went to him and knelt down beside him.
" It's been a kind old year ! " she said " It brought
you to me to take care of, and me to you to take care of
you didn't it?"
He laid one hand on hers, tremblingly, but was silent.
She turned up her kind, sweet face to his.
" You're not tired, are you ? "
He shook his head.
" No, my dear, no ! "
A rush and a clang of melody swept suddenly through the
open door the bells had begun again.
" A Happy New Year, Miss Mary ! " said Angus, look-
ing towards her from where he stood on the threshold
" And to you, David ! "
With an irrepressible movement of tenderness Helmsley
raised his trembling hands and laid them gently on Mary's
head.
" Take an old man's blessing, my dear ! " he said, softly,
" And from a most grateful heart ! "
She caught his hands as he lifted them again from her
brow, and kissed them. There were tears in her eyes, but
she brushed them quickly away.
"You talk just like father!" she said, smiling "He
was always grateful for nothing ! "
And rising from her kneeling attitude by Helmsley's
chair, she went again towards the open cottage door, hold-
ing out her two hands to Reay. Looking at her as she
approached he seemed to see in her some gracious angel,
advancing with all the best possibilities of life for him in
her sole power and gift.
" A Happy New Year, Mr. Reay ! And success to the
book!"
280 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
He clasped the hands she extended.
" If you wish success for it, success is bound to come ! "
he answered in a low voice " I believe in your good in-
fluence ! "
She looked at him, and whatever answer rose to her
lips was suddenly silenced by the eloquence of his eyes.
She coloured hotly, and then grew very pale. They both
stood on the threshold of the open door, silent and strangely
embarrassed, while the bells swung and clanged musically
through the frosty air, and the long low swish of the sea
swept up like a harmonious bass set to the silvery voice
of the chimes. They little guessed with what passionate
hope, yearning, and affection, Helmsley watched them stand-
ing there ! they little knew that on them the last ambition
of his life was set ! and that any discovery of sham or
falsehood in their natures would make cruel havoc of his
dearest dreams! They waited, looking out on the dark
quiet space, and listening to the rush of the stream till the
clamour of the bells ceased again, and sounded no more.
In the deep stillness that followed Angus said softly
" There's not a leaf left on the old sweetbriar bush
now ! "
" No," answered Mary, in the same soft tone " But
it will be the first thing to bud with the spring."
" I've kept the little sprig you gave me," he added,
apparently by way of a casual after-thought.
"Have you?"
Silence fell again and not another word passed between
them save a gentle " Good-night " when, the New Year
having fully come in, they parted.
CHAPTER XVII
THE dreariest season of the year had now set in, but frost
and cold were very seldom felt severely in Weircombe.
The little village lay in a deep warm hollow, and was thor-
oughly protected at the back by the hills, while in the
front its shores were washed by the sea, which had a warm-
ing as well as bracing effect on the atmosphere. To invalids
requiring an equable temperature, it would have been a
far more ideal winter resort than any corner of the much-
vaunted Riviera, except indeed for the fact that feeding
and gambling dens were not among its attractions. To
" society " people it would have proved insufferably dull,
because society people, lacking intelligence to do anything
themselves, always want everything done for them. Weir-
combe folk would not have understood that method of liv-
ing. To them it seemed proper and reasonable that men,
and women too, should work for what they ate. The theory
that only a few chosen persons, not by any means estimable
either as to their characters or their abilities, should eat
what others were starved for, would not have appealed
to them. They were a small and unimportant community,
but their ideas of justice and principles of conduct were
very firmly established. They lived on the lines laid down
by their forefathers, and held that a simple faith in God,
coupled with honest hard labour, was sufficient to make
life well worth living. And, on the whole they were made
of that robust human material of which in the days gone
by there was enough to compose and consolidate the great-
ness of Britain. They were kindly of heart, but plain in
speech, and their remarks on current events, persons and
things, would have astonished and perhaps edified many
a press man had he been among them, when on Saturday
nights they " dropped in " at the one little public-house
of the village, and argued politics and religion till closing-
time. Angus Reay soon became a favourite with them
all, though at first they had looked upon him with a little
distrust as a " gentleman tow-rist " ; but when he had
281
282 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
mixed with them freely and familiarly, making no secret
of the fact that he was poor, and that he was endeavouring
to earn a livelihood like all the rest of them, only in a dif-
ferent way, they abandoned all reserve, and treated him
as one of themselves. Moreover, when it was understood
that " Mis' Deane," whose reputation stood very high in
the village, considered him not unworthy of her friendship,
he rose up several degrees in the popular estimation, and
many a time those who were the self-elected wits and
wise-acres of the place, would " look in " as they termed
it, at Mary's cottage, and pass the evening talking with him
and with " old David," who, if he did not say much, lis-
tened the more. Mr. Bunce, the doctor, and Mr. Twitt,
the stone-mason, were in particular profoundly impressed
when they knew that Reay had worked for two years on a
London newspaper.
" Ye must 'ave a ter'uble knowledge of the world, Mis-
ter ! " said Twitt, thoughtfully" Just ter'uble ! "
" Yes, I should assume it must be so," murmured Bunce
" I should think it could hardly fail to be so ? "
Reay gave a short laugh.
" Well, I don't know ! " he said " You may call it a
knowledge of the world if you like I call it an unpleasant
glimpse into the shady side of life. I'd rather walk in
the sunshine."
" And what would you call the sunshine, sir ? " asked
Bunce, with his head very much on one side like a medita-
tive bird.
" Honesty, truth, belief in God, belief in good ! " an-
swered Angus, with some passion " Not perpetual schem-
ing, suspicion of motives, personal slander, and pettiness
O Lord ! such pettiness as can hardly be believed !
Journalism is the most educational force in the world, but
its power is being put to wrong uses."
" Well, said Twitt, slowly " I aint so blind but I can
see through a wall when there's a chink in it. An' when I
gets my ' Daily ' down from Lunnun, an' sees harf a page
given up to a kind o' poster about Pills, an' another harf
a page praisin' up somethin' about Tonics, I often sez to
myself : ' Look 'ere, Twitt ! What are ye payin' yer pennies
out for? For a Patent Pill or for News? For a Nervy
Tonic or for the latest pol'tics ? ' An' myself me Twitt
answers an' sez ' Why ye're payin' for news an' pol'tics,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 283
of course ! ' Well then, I sez, ' Twitt, ye aint gettin' nothin*
o' the sort ! ' An' t' other day, blow'd if I didn't see in my
paper a long piece about ' 'Ow to be Beautiful ' an' that
'adn't nothin' to do wi' me nor no man, but was just mere
gabble for fool women. ' 'Ow to be Beautiful,' aint news
o' the world!"
" No," said Reay " You're not intended to know the
news of the world. News, real news, is the property of the
Stock Exchange. It's chiefly intended for company gam-
bling purposes. The People are not expected to know much
about it. Modern Journalism seeks to play Pope and assert
the doctrine of infallibility. What It does not authorise,
isn't supposed to exist."
" Is that truly so ? " asked Bunce, solemnly.
" Most assuredly ! "
" You mean to say," said Helmsley, breaking in upon
the conversation, and speaking in quiet unconcerned tones
" that the actual national affairs of the world are not told
to the people as they should be, but are jealously guarded
by a few whose private interests are at stake ? "
" Yes. I certainly do mean that."
" I thought you did. You see," went on Helmsley
" when I was in regular office work in London, I used to-
hear a good deal concerning the business schemes of this,
that and the other great house in the city, and I often
wondered what the people would say if they ever came to
know ! "
" Came to know what ? " said Mr. Bunce, anxiously.
" Why, the names of the principal shareholders in the
newspapers," said Reay, placidly " That might possibly
open their eyes to the way their opinions are manufactured!
for them ! There's very little ' liberty of the press ' in Great
Britain nowadays. The press is the property of a few rich
men."
Mary, who was working very intently on a broad length
of old lace she was mending, looked up at him her eyes
were brilliant and her cheeks softly flushed.
" I hope you will be brave enough to say that some day
right out to the people as you say it to us," she observed.
" I will ! Never fear about that ! If I ant ever anything
if I ever can be anything I will do my level best to save
my nation from being swallowed up by a horde of German-
American Jews ! " said Reay, hotly " I would rather suf-
284 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
fer anything myself than see the dear old country brought
to shame."
" Right, very right ! " said Mr. Bunce, approvingly
"And many yes, I think we may certainly say many, are
of your spirit, what do you think, David ? "
Helmsley had raised himself in his chair, and was looking
wonderfully alert. The conversation interested him.
" I quite agree," he said " But Mr. Reay must remem-
ber that if he should ever want to make a clean sweep of
German-American Jews and speculators as he says, and
expose the way they tamper with British interests, he would
require a great deal of money. A very great deal of
money ! " he repeated, slowly, " Now I wonder, Mr. Reay,
what you would do with a million? two millions? three
millions ? four millions ? "
" Stop, stop, old David ! " interrupted Twitt, suddenly
holding up his hand " Ye takes my breath away ! "
They all laughed, Reay's hearty tones ringing above the
rest.
" Oh, I should know what to do with them ! " he said ;
" but I wouldn't spend them on my own selfish pleasures
that I swear ! For one thing, I'd run a daily newspaper on
honest lines "
" It wouldn't sell ! " observed Helmsley, drily.
"It would it should!" declared Reay " And I'd tell
the people the truth of things, I'd expose every financial
fraud I could find "
"And you'd live in the law-courts, I fear ! " said Mr.
Bunce, gravely shaking his head " We may be perfectly
certain, I think may we not, David? that the law-courts
would be Mr. Reay's permanent address ? "
They laughed again, and the conversation turned to other
topics, though its tenor was not forgotten by anyone, least
of all by Helmsley, who sat very silent for a long time after-
wards, thinking deeply, and seeing in his thoughts various
channels of usefulness to the world and the world's progress,
which he had missed, but which others after him would find.
Meanwhile Weircombe suffered a kind of moral convul-
sion in the advent of the Reverend Mr. Arbroath, who ar-
rived to " take duty " in the absence of its legitimate pastor.
He descended upon the tiny place like an embodied black
whirlwind, bringing his wife with him, a lady whose facial
lineaments bore the strangest and most remarkable resem-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 285
blance to those of a china cat; not a natural cat, because
there is something soft and appealing about a real " pussy,"
whereas Mrs. Arbroath's countenance was cold and hard
and shiny, like porcelain, and her smile was precisely that of
the immovable and ruthless-looking animal designed long
ago by old-time potters and named " Cheshire." Her eyes
were similar to the eyes of that malevolent china creature
and when she spoke, her voice had the shrill tone which was
but a few notes off the actual "me-iau " of an angry " Tom."
Within a few days after their arrival, every cottage in the
" coombe " had been " visited," and both Mr. and Mrs.
Arbroath had made up their minds as to the neglected,
wholly unspiritual and unregenerate nature of the little
flock whom they had offered, for sake of their own health
and advantage, to tend. The villagers had received them
civilly, but without enthusiasm. When tackled on the sub-
ject of their religious opinions, most of them declined to
answer, except Mr. Twitt, who, fixing a filmy eye sternly
on the plain and gloomy face of Mr. Arbroath, said em-
phatically :
" We aint no 'Igh Jinks ! "
" What do you mean, my man ? " demanded Arbroath,
with a dark smile.
" I mean what I sez " rejoined Twitt " I've been
stone-mason 'ere goin' on now for thirty odd years an' it's
allus been the same 'ere no 'Igh Jinks. Purcessin an*
vestiments " here Twitt spread out a broad dirty thumb
and dumped it down with each word into the palm of his
other hand " candles, crosses, bobbins an' bowins them's
what we calls 'Igh Jinks, an' I make so bold as to say that if
ye gets 'em up 'ere, Mr. Arbroath, ye'll be mighty sorry
for yourself ! "
" I shall conduct the services as I please ! " said Arbroath.
" You take too much upon yourself to speak to me in such
a fashion ! You should mind your own business ! "
" So should you, Mister, so should you ! " And Twitt
chuckled contentedly "An' if ye don't mind it, there's those
'ere as'll make ye ! "
Arbroath departed in a huff, and the very next Sunday
announced that " Matins " would be held at seven o'clock
daily in the Church, and " Evensong " at six in the after-
noon. Needless to say, the announcement was made in
vain. Day after day passed, and no one attended. Smart-
286 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ing with rage, Arbroath sought to " work up " the village
to a proper " 'Igh Jink " pitch but his efforts were wasted.
And a visit to Mary Deane's cottage did not sweeten his
temper, for the moment he caught sight of Helmsley sitting
in his usual corner by the fire, he recognised him as the " old
tramp " he had interviewed in the common room of the
" Trusty Man."
" How did you come here ? " he demanded, abruptly.
Helmsley, who happened to be at work basket-making,
looked up, but made no reply. Whereupon Arbroath turned
upon Maryr
" Is this man a relative of yours ? " he asked.
Mary had risen from her chair out of ordinary civility as
the clergyman entered, and now replied quietly.
" No, sir."
" Oh ! Then what is he doing here ? "
" You can see what he is doing," she answered, with
a slight smile " He is making baskets."
" He is a tramp ! " said Arbroath, pointing an inflexible
finger at him " I saw him last summer smoking and drink-
ing with a gang of low ruffians at a roadside inn called ' The
Trusty Man ' ! " And he advanced a step towards Helms-
ley " Didn't I see you there ? "
Helmsley looked straight at him.
" You did."
" You told me you were tramping to Cornwall."
" So I was."
" Then what are you doing here ? "
" Earning a living."
Arbroath turned sharply on Mary.
"Is that true?"
" Of course it is true," she replied " Why should he
tell you a lie ? "
" Does he lodge with you ? "
" Yes."
Arbroath paused a moment, his little brown eyes spar-
kling vindictively.
" Well, you had better be careful he does not rob you ? "
he said. " For I can prove that he seemed to be very good
friends with that notorious rascal Tom o' the Gleam who
murdered a nobleman at Blue Anchor last summer, and
who would have hung for his crime if he had not fortunately
saved the expense of a rope by dying."
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 287
Helmsley, bending over his basket-weaving, suddenly
straightened himself and looked the clergyman full in
the face.
" I never knew Tom o' the Gleam till that night on which
you saw me at ' The Trusty Man/ " he said " But I know
he had terrible provocation for the murder he committed.
I saw that murder done ! "
" You saw it done ! " exclaimed Arbroath " And you
are here ? "
"Why should I not be here?" demanded Helmsley
" Would you have expected me to stay there? I was only
one of many witnesses to that terrible deed of vengeance
but, as God lives, it was a just vengeance ! "
"Just? You call murder just!" and Arbroath gave a
gesture of scorn and horror "And you," he continued,
turning to Mary indignantly " can allow a ruffian like this
to live in your house ? "
" He is no ruffian," said Mary steadily, " Nor was Tom
o' the Gleam a ruffian either. He was well-known in these
parts for many and many a deed of kindness. The real
ruffian was the man who killed his little child. Indeed I
think he was the chief murderer."
" Oh, you do, do you ? " and Mr. Arbroath frowned
heavily "And you call yourself a respectable woman ? "
Mary smiled, and resuming her seat, bent her head in-
tently over her lace work.
Arbroath stood irresolute, gazing at her. He was a
sensual man, and her physical beauty annoyed him. He
would have liked to sit down alone with her and take her
hand in his own and talk to her about her " soul " while
gloating over her body. But in the " old tramp's " presence
there was nothing to be done. So he assumed a high
moral tone.
"Accidents will happen," he said, sententiously " If a
child gets into the way of a motor going at full speed, it
is bound to be unfortunate for the child. But Lord
Wrotham was a rich man and no doubt he would- have
paid a handsome sum down in compensation "
" Compensation ! " And Helmsley suddenly stood up,
drawing his frail thin figure erect " Compensation !
Money! Money for a child's life money for a child's
love! Are you a minister of Christ, that you can talk of
such a thing as possible? What is all the wealth of the
288 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
world compared to the life of one beloved human creature !
Reverend sir, I am an old poor man, a tramp as you say,
consorting with rogues and ruffians but were I as rich as
the richest millionaire that ever ' sweated ' honest labour, I
would rather shoot myself than offer money compensation
to a father for the loss of a child whom my selfish pleasure
had slain ! "
He trembled from head to foot with the force of his own
eloquence, and Arbroath stared at him dumb-foundered.
" You are a preacher," went on Helmsley " You are
a teacher of the Gospel. Do you find anything in the New
Testament that gives men licence to ride rough-shod over
the hearts and emotions of their fellow-men? Do you find
there that selfishness is praised or callousness condoned?
In those sacred pages are we told that a sparrow's life is
valueless, or a child's prayer despised? Sir, if you are a
Christian, teach Christianity as Christ taught it honestly!"
Arbroath turned livid.
" How dare you ! " he began when Mary quietly rose.
" I would advise you to be going, sir," she said, quite
courteously " The old man is not very strong, and he has
a trouble of the heart. It is little use for persons to argue
who feel so differently. We poor folk do not understand
the ways of the gentry."
And she held open the door of her cottage for him to
pass out. He pressed his slouch-hat more heavily over his
eyes, and glared at her from under the shadow of its brim.
" You are harbouring a dangerous customer in your
house ! " he said "A dangerous customer ! It will be my
duty to warn the parish against him ! "
She smiled.
" You are very welcome to do so, sir ! Good-morning ! "
And as he tramped away through her tiny garden, she
quickly shut and barred the door after him, and hurried to
Helmsley in some anxiety, for he looked very pale, and his
breath came and went somewhat rapidly.
" David dear, why did you excite yourself so much over
that man ! " she said, kneeling beside him as he sank back
exhausted in his chair " Was it worth while ? "
He patted her head with a tremulous hand.
" Perhaps not ! " And he smiled " Perhaps not, Mary !
But the cold-blooded way in which he said that a money
compensation might have been offered to poor Tom o' the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 289
Gleam for his little child's life my God! As if any sort
of money could compare with love ! "
He stroked her hair gently, and went on murmuring to
himself
"As if all the gold in the world could make up for the
loss of one loving heart ! "
Mary was silent. She saw that he was greatly agitated,
and thought it better to let him speak out his whole mind
rather than suppress his feelings.
" What can a man do with wealth ! " he went on, speak-
ing more to himself than to her " He can buy everything
that is to be bought, certainly but if he has no one to
share his goods with him, what then? Eh, Mary? What
then?"
" Why then he'd be a very miserable man, David ! " she
answered, smiling " He'd wish he were poor, with some
one to love him ! "
He looked at her, and his sunken eyes flashed with quite
an eager light.
" That's true ! " he said " He'd wish he were poor with
some one to love him ! Mary, you've been so kind to me
promise me one thing ! "
" What's that ? " and she patted his hand soothingly.
" Just this if I die on your hands don't let that man
Arbroath bury me ! I think my very bones would split at
the sound of his rasping voice ! "
Mary laughed.
" Don't you worry about that ! " she said " Mr. Arbroath
won't have the chance to bury you, David ! Besides, he
never takes the burials of the very poor folk even in his own
parishes. He wrote a letter in one of the country-side
papers not very long ago, to complain of the smallness of
the burial fees, and said it wasn't worth his while to bury
paupers ! " And she laughed again. " Poor, bitter-hearted
man ! He must be very wretched in himself to be so can-
tankerous to others."
" Well, don't let him bury me!" said Helmsley " That's
all I ask. I'd much rather Twitt dug a hole in the sea-
shore and put my body into it himself, without any prayers
at all, than have a prayer croaked over me by that clerical
raven ! Remember that ! "
" I'll remember! " And Mary's face beamed with kindly
tolerance and good-humour " But you're really quite an
290 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
angry old boy to-day, David! I never saw you in such a
temper ! "
Her playful tone brought a smile to his face at last.
" It was that horrible suggestion of money compensation
for a child's life that angered me," he said, half apolo-
getically " The notion that pounds, shillings and pence
could pay for the loss of love, got on my nerves. Why,
love is the only good thing in the world ! "
She had been half kneeling by his chair but she now
rose slowly, and stretched her arms out with a little gesture
of sudden weariness.
" Do you think so, David ? " and she sighed, almost
unconsciously to herself " I'm not so sure ! "
He glanced at her in sudden uneasiness. Was she too
going to say, like Lucy Sorrel, that she did not believe in
love? He thought of Angus Reay, and wondered. She
caught his look and smiled.
" I'm not so sure ! " she repeated " There's a great deal
talked about love, but it often seems as if there was more
talk than deed. At least there is in what is generally called
' love.' I know there's a very real and beautiful love, like
that which I had for my father, and which he had for
me, that was as near being perfect as anything could be
in this world. But the love I had for the young man to
whom I Was once engaged was quite a different thing
altogether."
" Of course it was ! " said Helmsley "And quite natu-
rally, too. You loved your father as a daughter loves and
I suppose you loved the young man as a sweetheart loves
eh?"
" Sweetheart is a very pretty word," she answered, the
smile still lingering about her lips " It's quite old-fashioned
too, and I love old-fashioned things. But I don't think I
loved the young man exactly as a ' sweetheart.' It all came
about in a very hap-hazard way. He took a fancy to me,
and we used to go long walks together. He hadn't very
much to say for himself he smoked most of the time. But
he was honest and respectable and I got rather fond of
him so that when he asked me to marry him, I thought it
would perhaps please father to see me provided for and I
said yes, without thinking very much about it. Then, when
father failed in business and my man threw me over, I fret-
ted a bit just for a day or two mostly I think because we
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 291
couldn't go any more Sunday walks together. I was in the
early twenties, but now I'm getting on in the thirties. I
know I didn't understand a bit about real love then. It
was just fancy and the habit of seeing the one young man
oftener than others. And, of course, that isn't love."
Helmsley listened to her every word, keenly interested.
Surely, if he guided the conversation skilfully enough, he
might now gain some useful hints which would speed the
cause of Angus Reay ?
" No of course that isn't love," he echoed " But what
do you take' to be love ? Can you tell me ? "
Her eyes filled with a dreamy light, and her lips quivered
a little.
" Can I tell you ? Not very well, perhaps but I'll try.
Of course it's all over for me now and I can only just
picture what I think it ought to be. I never had it. I mean
I never had that kind of love I have dreamed about, and it
seems silly for an old maid to even talk of such a thing. But
love to my mind ought to be the everything of life! If I
loved a man " Here she suddenly paused, and a wave
of colour flushed her cheeks. Helmsley never took his eyes
off her face.
" Yes ? " he said, tentatively " Well ! go on if you
loved a man? "
" If I loved a man, David," she continued, slowly, clasp-
ing her hands meditatively behind her back, and looking
thoughtfully into the glowing centre of the fire " I should
love him so completely that I should never think of anything
in which he had not the first and greatest share. I should see
his kind looks in every ray of sunshine I should hear his
loving voice in every note of music, if I were to read a
book alone, I should wonder which sentence in it would
please him the most if I plucked a flower, I should ask
myself if he would like me to wear it, I should live through
him and for him he would be my very eyes and heart and
soul ! The hours would seem empty without him "
She broke off with a little sob, and her eyes brimmed
over with tears.
" Why Mary ! Mary, my dear ! " murmured Helmsley,
stretching out his hand to touch her " Don't cry ! "
" I'm not crying, David ! " and a rainbow smile lighted
her face "I'm only just feeling! It's like when I read
a little verse of poetry that is very sad and sweet, I get tears
292 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
into my eyes and when I talk about love especially now
that I shall never know what it is, something rises in my
throat and chokes me "
" But you do know what it is," said Helmsley, power-
fully moved by the touching simplicity of her confession of
loneliness " There isn't a more loving heart than yours in
the world, I'm sure ! "
She came and knelt down again beside him.
" Oh yes, I've a loving heart ! " she said " But that's just
the worst of it! I can love, but no one loves or ever will
love me now. I'm past the age for it. No woman over
thirty can expect to be loved by a lover, you know !
Romance is all over and one ' settles down,' as they say.
I've never quite ' settled ' there's always something rest-
less in me. You're such a dear old man, David, and so kind !
I can speak to you just as if you were my father and I
daresay you will not think it very wrong or selfish of me if
I say I have longed to be loved sometimes ! More than that,
I've wished it had pleased God to send me a husband and
children I should have dearly liked to hold a baby in my
arms, and soothe its little cries, and make it grow up to be
happy and good, and a blessing to every one. Some women
don't care for children but I should have loved mine ! "
She paused a moment, and Helmsley took her hand, and
silently pressed it in his own.
" However," she went on, more lightly " it's no good
grieving over what cannot be helped. No man has ever
really loved me because, of course, the one I was engaged
to wouldn't have thrown me over just because I was poor if
he had cared very much about me. And I shall be thirty-
five this year so I must I really must " and she gave
herself an admonitory little shake " settle down ! After
all there are worse things in life than being an old maid. I
don't mind it it's only sometimes when I feel inclined to
grizzle, that I think to myself what a lot of love I've got in
my heart all wasted ! "
" Wasted ? " echoed Helmsley, gently " Do you think
love is ever wasted ? "
Her eyes grew serious and dreamy.
" Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don't " she answered
" When I begin to like a person very much I often pull
myself back and say ' Take care ! Perhaps he doesn't like
you!'"
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 293
" Oh ! The person must be a ' he ' then ! " said Helmsley,
smiling a little.
She coloured.
" Oh no not exactly ! but I mean, now, for instance,"
and she spoke rapidly as though to cover some deeper
feeling " I like you very much indeed I'm fond of you,
David ! I've got to know you so well, and to understand
all your ways but I can't be sure that you like me as much
as I like you, can I ? "
He looked at her kind and noble face with eyes full of
tenderness and gratitude.
" If you can be sure of anything, you can be sure of
that ! " he said " To say I ' like ' you would be a poor
way of expressing myself. I owe my very life to you and
though I am only an old poor man, I would say I loved
you if I dared ! "
She smiled and her whole face shone with the reflected
sunshine of her soul.
" Say it, David dear ! Do say it ! I should like to
hear it!"
He drew the hand he held to his lips, and gently kissed it.
" I love you, Mary ! " he said "As a father loves a
daughter I love you, and bless you ! You have been a good
angel to me and I only wish I were not so old and weak
and dependent on your care. I can do nothing to show my
affection for you I'm only a burden upon your hands "
She laid her fingers lightly across his lips.
"Sh-sh!" she said " That's foolish talk, and I won't
listen to it! I'm glad you're fond of me it makes life so
much pleasanter. Do you know, I sometimes think God
must have sent you to me ? "
"Do you? Why?"
" Well, I used to fret a little at being so much alone, the
days seemed so long, and it was hard to have to work only
for one's wretched self, and see nothing in the future but
just the same old round and I missed my father always.
I never could get accustomed to his empty chair. Then
when I found you on the hills, lost and solitary, and ill, and
brought you home to nurse and take care of, all the vacancy
seemed filled and I was quite glad to have some one to
work for. I've been ever so much happier since you've
been with me. We'll be like father and daughter to the
end, vron't we ? "
29* THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
She put one arm about him coaxingly. He did not
answer.
" You won't go away from me now, will you, David ? "
she urged " Even when you've paid me back all you owe
me as you wish by your own earnings, you won't go away ? "
He lifted his head and looked at her as she bent over him.
" You mustn't ask me to promise anything," he said, " I
will stay with you as long as I can ! "
She withdrew her arm from about him, and stood for a
moment irresolute.
" Well I shall be very miserable if you do go," she
said "And I'm sure no one will take more care of you
than I will ! "
" I'm sure of that, too, Mary ! " and a smile that was al-
most youthful in its tenderness brightened his worn features
" I've never been so well taken care of in all my life be-
fore ! Mr. Reay thinks I am a very lucky old fellow."
" Mr. Reay ! " She echoed the name and then, stoop-
ing abruptly towards the fire, began to make it up afresh.
Helmsley watched her intently.
" Don't you like Mr. Reay ? " he asked.
She turned a smiling face round upon him.
" Why, of course I like him ! " she answered " I think
everyone in Weircombe likes him."
" I wonder if he'll ever marry ? " pursued Helmsley, with
a meditative air.
"Ah, I wonder ! I hope if he does, he'll find some dear
sweet little girl who will really love him and be proud of
him! For he's going to be a great man, David! a great
and famous man some day ! "
"You think so?"
"I'm sure of it!"
And she lifted her head proudly, while her blue eyes
shone with enthusiastic fervour. Helmsley made a mental
note of her expression, and wondered how he could proceed.
"And you'd like him to marry some ' dear sweet little
girl ' " he went on, reflectively " I'll tell him that you
said so ! "
She was silent, carefully piling one or two small logs on
the fire.
" Dear sweet little girls are generally uncommonly vain
of themselves," resumed Helmsley "And in the strength
of their dearness and sweetness they sometimes fail to ap-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 295
predate love when they get it. Now Mr. Reay would love
very deeply, I should imagine and I don't think he could
bear to be played with or slighted."
" But who would play with or slight such love as his ? "
asked Mary, with a warm flush on her face " No woman
that knew anything of his heart would wilfully throw it
away ! "
Helmsley stroked his beard thoughtfully.
" That story of his about a girl named Lucy Sorrel," he
began.
" Oh, she was wicked downright wicked ! " declared
Mary, with some passion "Any girl who would plan and
scheme to marry an old man for his money must be a
worthless creature. I wish I had been in that Lucy Sorrel's
place ! "
"Ah ! And what would you have done ? " enquired
Helmsley.
" Well, if I had been a pretty girl, in my teens, and I
had been fortunate enough to win the heart of a splendid
fellow like Angus Reay," said Mary, " I would have
thanked God, as Shakespeare tells us to do, for a good
man's love! And I would have waited for him years, if
he had wished me to! I would have helped him all I could,
and cheered him and encouraged him in every way I could
think of and when he had won his fame, I should have
been prouder than a queen ! Yes, I should ! I think any
girl would have been lucky indeed to get such a man to care
for her as Angus Reay ! "
Thus spake Mary, with sparkling eyes and heaving bosom
and Helmsley heard her, showing no sign of any especial
interest, the while he went on meditatively stroking his
beard.
" It is a pity," he said, after a discreet pause " that
you are not a few years younger, Mary! You might have
loved him yourself."
Her face grew suddenly scarlet, and she seemed about
to utter an exclamation, but she repressed it. The colour
faded from her cheeks as rapidly as it had flushed them,
leaving her very pale.
" So I might ! " she answered quietly, and she smiled ;
" Indeed I think it would have been very likely ! But that
sort of thing is all over for me."
She turned away, and began busying herself with some
296 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
of her household duties. Helmsley judged that he had
said enough and quietly exulted in his own mind at the
discovery which he was confident he had made. All seemed
clear and open sailing for Angus Reay if if she could be
persuaded that it was for herself and herself alone that he
loved her.
" Now if she were a rich woman, she would never believe
in his love ! " he thought " There again comes in the curse
of money ! Suppose she were wealthy as women in her
rank of life would consider it suppose that she had a pros-
perous farm, and a reliable income of so much per annum,
she would never flatter herself that a man loved her for her
own good and beautiful self especially a man in the situa-
tion of Reay, with only twenty pounds in the world to last
him a year, and nothing beyond it save the dream of fame !
She would think and naturally too that he sought to
strengthen and improve his prospects by marrying a woman
of some ' substance ' as they call it. And even as it is the
whole business requires careful handling. I myself must be
oh my guard. But I think I may give hope to Reay! in-
deed I shall try and urge him to speak to her as soon as
possible before fortune comes to either of them ! Love in
its purest and most unselfish form, is such a rare blessing
such a glorious Angel of the kingdom of Heaven, that we
should not hesitate to give it welcome, or delay in offering
it reverence! It is all that makes life worth living God
knows how fully I have proved it ! "
And that night in the quiet darkness of his own little
room, he folded his worn hands and prayed
" Oh God, before whom I appear as a wasted life, spent
with toil in getting what is not worth the gaining, and that
only seems as dross in Thy sight! Give me sufficient time
and strength to show my gratefulness to Thee for Thy mercy
in permitting me to know the sweetness of Love at last, and
in teaching me to understand, through Thy guidance, that
those who may seem to us the unconsidered and lowly in
this world, are often to be counted among Thy dearest
creatures! Grant me but this, O God, and death when it
comes, shall find me ready and resigned to Thy Will ! "
Thus he murmured half aloud, and in the wonderful
restfulness which he obtained by the mere utterance of his
thoughts to the Divine Source of all good, closed his eyes
with a sense of abiding joy, and slept peacefully.
CHAPTER XVIII
AND now by slow and beautiful degrees the cold and naked
young year grew warm, and expanded from weeping, shiver-
ing infancy into the delighted consciousness of happy child-
hood. The first snowdrops, the earliest aconites, perked up
their pretty heads in Mary's cottage garden, and through-
out all nature there came that inexplicable, indefinite, soft
pulsation of new life and new love which we call the spring.
Tiny buds, rosy and shining with sap, began to gleam like
rough jewels on every twig and tree a colony of rooks
which had abode in the elms surrounding Weircombe
Church, started to make great ado about their housekeeping,
and kept up as much jabber as though they were inaugurat-
ing an Irish night in the House of Commons, and, over a
more or less tranquil sea, the gulls poised lightly on the
heaving waters in restful attitudes, as though conscious that
the stress of winter was past. To look at Weircombe .vil-
lage as it lay peacefully aslant down the rocky " coombe," no
one would have thought it likely to be a scene of silent, but
none the less violent, internal feud ; yet such nevertheless
was the case, and all the trouble had arisen since the first
Sunday of the first month of the Reverend Mr. Arbroath's
" taking duty " in the parish. On that day six small choir-
boys had appeared in the Church, together with a tall lanky
youth in a black gown and white surplice and to the
stupefied amazement of the congregation, the lanky youth
had carried a gilt cross round the Church, followed by
Arbroath himself and the six little boys, all chanting in a
manner such as the Weircombe folk had never heard before.
It was a deeply resented innovation, especially as the six
little boys and the lanky cross-bearer, as well as the cross
itself, had been mysteriously " hired " from somewhere by
Mr. Arbroath, and were altogether strange to the village.
Common civility, as well as deeply rooted notions of " de-
cency and order," kept the parishioners in their seats during
what they termed the " play-acting " which took place on
this occasion, but when they left the Church and went their
several ways, they all resolved on the course they meant to
297
298 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
adopt with the undesired introduction of " 'Igh Jinks " for
the future. And from that date henceforward not one of the
community attended Church. Sunday after Sunday, the
bells rang in vain. Mr. Arbroath conducted the service
solely for Mrs. Arbroath and for one ancient villager who
acted the double part of sexton and verger, and whose duties
therefore compelled him to remain attached to the sacred
edifice. And the people read their morning prayers in their
own houses every Sunday, and never stirred out on that
day till after their dinners. In vain did both Mr. and Mrs.
Arbroath run up and down the little village street, calling
at every house, coaxing, cajoling, and promising, they
spoke to deaf ears. Nothing they could say or do made
amends for the " insult " to which the parishioners consid-
ered they had been subjected, by the sudden appearance of
six strange choir-boys and the lanky youth in a black gown,
who had carried a gilt cross round and round the tiny
precincts of their simple little Church, which, until the
occurrence of this remarkable " mountebank " performance
as they called it, had been everything to them that was
sacred in its devout simplicity. Finally, in despair, Mr.
Arbroath wrote a long letter of complaint to the Bishop of
the diocese, and after a considerable time of waiting, was
informed by the secretary of that gentleman that the matter
would be enquired into, but that in the meantime he had
better conduct the Sunday services in the manner to which
the parishioners had been accustomed. This order Arbroath
flatly refused to obey, and there ensued a fierce polemical
correspondence, during which the Church remained, as has
been stated, empty of worshippers altogether. Casting
about for reasons which should prove some contumacious
spirit to be the leader of this rebellion, Arbroath attacked
Mary Deane among others, and asked her if she was " a
regular Communicant." To which she calmly replied
" No, sir."
"And why are you not?" demanded the clergyman
imperiously.
" Because I do not feel like it," she said ; " I do not believe
in going to Communion unless one really feels the spiritual
wish and desire."
" Oh ! Then that is to say that you are very seldom
Conscious of any spiritual wish or desire ? "
She was silent.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 299
" I am sorry for you ! " And Arbroath shook his bullet
head dismally. " You are one of the unregenerate, and if
you do not amend your ways will be among the lost "
" ' I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall
my sister be, when thou liest howling!' 1 ' said Helmsley
suddenly.
Arbroath turned upon him sharply.
"What's that?" he snarled.
" Shakespeare ! " and Helmsley smiled.
" Shakespeare ! Much you know about Shakespeare ! "
snapped out the irritated clergyman. " But atheists and
ruffians always quote Shakespeare as glibly as they quote
the New Testament ! "
" It's lucky that atheists and ruffians have got such gooa
authorities to quote from," said Helmsley placidly.
Arbroath gave an impatient exclamation, and again ad-
dressed Mary.
" Why don't you come to Church ? " he asked.
She raised her calm blue eyes and regarded him stead-
fastly.
" I don't like the way you conduct the service, sir, and
I don't take you altogether for a Christian."
" What ! " And he stared at her so furiously that his
little pig eyes grew almost large for the moment " You
don't take me me for a Christian?"
" No, sir, not altogether. You are too hard and too
proud. You are not careful of us poor folk, and you don't
seem to mind whether you hurt our feelings or not. We're
only very humble simple people here in Weircombe, but
we're not accustomed to being ordered about as if we were
children, or as if our parson was a Romish priest wanting
to get us all under his thumb. We believe in God with all
our hearts and souls, and we love the dear gentle Saviour
who came to show us how to live and how to die, but we
like to pray as we've always been accustomed to pray, just
without any show, as our Lord taught us to do, not using
any ' vain repetitions.' "
Helmsley, who was bending some stiff osiers in his hands,
paused to listen. Arbroath stared gloomily at the noble,
thoughtful face on which there was just now an inspired
expression of honesty and truth which almost shamed him.
" I think," went on Mary, speaking very gently and mod-
estly " that if we read the New Testament, we shall find
300 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
that our Lord expressly forbade all shows and ceremonies,
and that He very much disliked them. Indeed, if we strictly
obeyed all His orders, we should never be seen praying in
public at all ! Of course it is pleasant and human for people
to meet together in some place and worship God but I
think such a meeting should be quite without any ostenta-
tion and that all our prayers should be as simple as possi-
ble. Pray excuse me if I speak too boldly but that is the
spirit and feeling of most of the Weircombe folk, and they
are really very good, honest people."
The Reverend Mr. Arbroath stood inert and silent for
about two minutes, his eyes still fixed upon her, then, with-
out a word, he turned on his heel and left the cottage. And
from that day he did his best to sow small seeds of scandal
against her, scattering half-implied innuendoes, faint
"breathings of disparagement, coarse jests as to her " old
maid " condition, and other mean and petty calumnies,
which, however, were all so much wasted breath on his
part, as the Weircombe villagers were as indifferent to his
attempted mischief as Mary herself. Even with the feline
assistance of Mrs. Arbroath, who came readily to her hus-
band's aid in his capacity of " downing " a woman, especially
as that woman was so much better-looking than herself,
nothing of any importance was accomplished in the way of
either shaking Mary's established position in the estimation
of Weircombe, or of persuading the parishioners to a " 'Igh
Jink " view of religious matters. Indeed, on this point they
were inflexible, and as Mrs. Twitt remarked on one occa-
sion, with a pious rolling-up of the whites of her eyes
" To see that little black man with the 'igh stomach
a-walkin' about this village is enough to turn a baby's bottle
sour ! It don't seem nat'ral like he's as different from our
good old parson as a rat is from a bird, an' you'll own, Mis'
Deane, as there's a mighty difference between they two sorts
of insecks. An' that minds me, on the Saturday night afore
they got the play-actin' on up in the Church, the wick o' my
candle guttered down in a windin' sheet as long as long,
an' I sez to Twitt ' There you are ! Our own parson's
gone an' died over in Madery, an' we'll never 'ave the likes
of 'im no more! There's trouble comin' for the Church,
you mark my words.' An' Twitt, 'e says, ' G'arn, old
'ooman, it's the draught blowin' in at the door as makes the
candle gutter/ but all the same my words 'as come true ! ''
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 301
" Why no, surely not ! " said Mary, " Our parson isn't
dead in Madeira at all ! The Sunday-school mistress had a
letter from him only yesterday saying how much better he
felt, and that he hoped to be home again with us very soon."
Mrs. Twitt pursed her lips and shook her head.
" That may be ! " she observed " I aint a-sayin' nuthin*
again it. I sez to Twitt, there's trouble comin' for the
Church, an' so there is. An' the windin' sheet in the candle
means a death for somebody somewhere ! "
Mary laughed, though her eyes were a little sad and
wistful.
" Well, of course, there's always somebody dying some-
where, they say ! " And sb.e sighed. " There's a good
deal of grief in the world that nobody ever sees or hears of."
" True enough, Mis' Deane ! true enough ! " And Mrs.
Twitt shook her head again " But ye're spared a deal o*
worrit, seein' ye 'aven't a husband nor childer to drive ye
silly. When I 'ad my three boys at 'ome I never know'd
whether I was on my 'ed or my 'eels, they kept up such a
racket an' torment, but the Lord be thanked they're all out
an' doin' for theirselves in the world now forbye the eldest
is thinkin' o' marryin' a girl I've never seen, down in Corn-
wall, which is where 'e be a-workin' in tin mines, an' when
I 'eerd as 'ow 'e was p'raps a-goin' to tie hisself up in the
bonds o' matterimony, I stepped out in the garden just
casual like, an' if you'll believe me, I sees a magpie ! Now,
Mis' Deane, magpies is total strangers on these coasts no
one as I've ever 'card tell on 'as ever seen one an' they's
the unlikeliest and unluckiest birds to come across as ever
the good God created. An' of course I knows if my boy
marries that gel in Cornwall, it'll be the worst chance and
change for 'im that 'e's 'ad ever since 'e was born! That
magpie corned 'ere to warn me of it ! "
Mary tried to look serious, but Helmsley was listening
to the conversation, and she caught the mirthful glance
of his eyes. So she laughed, and taking Mrs. Twitt by
the shoulders, kissed her heartily on both cheeks.
" You're a dear ! " she said "And I'll believe in the
magpie if you want me to! But all the same, I don't
think any mischief is coming for your son or for you. I
like to hope that everything happening in this world is for
the best, and that the good God means kindly to all of us.
Don't you think that's the right way to live ? "
302 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" It may be the right way to live," replied Mrs. Twitt,
with a doubtful air " But there's ter'uble things allus 'ap-
penin', an' I sez if warnings is sent to us even out o' the
mouths o' babes and sucklings, let's accept 'em in good
part. An' if so be a magpie is chose by the Lord as a mes-
senger we'se fools if we despises the magpie. But that little
paunchy Arbroath's worse than a whole flock o' magpies
comin' together, an' 'e's actin' like a pestilence in keepin'
decent folk away from their own Church. 'Owsomever,
Twitt reads prayers every Sunday mornin', an' t'other day
Mr. Reay came in an' 'eerd 'im. An' Mr. Reay sez ' Twitt,
ye're better than any parson I ever 'eerd ! ' An' I believe 'e
is 'e's got real 'art an' feelin' for Scripter texes, an' sez
'em just as solemn as though 'e was carvin' 'em on tomb-
stones. It's powerful movin' ! "
Mary kept a grave face, but said nothing.
"An' last Sunday," went on Mrs. Twitt, encouraged,
" Mr. Reay hisself read us a chapter o' the New Tesymen.
an' 'twas fine! Twitt an' me, we felt as if we could 'a
served the Lord faithful to the end of the world! An' we
'ardly ever feels like that in Church. In Church they reads
the words so sing-songy like, that, bein' tired, we goes to
sleep wi' the soothin' drawl. But Mr. Reay, he kep' us wide
awake an' starin'! An' there's one tex which sticks in my
'ed an' comforts me for myself an' for everybody in trouble
as I ever 'eerd on "
"And what's that, Mrs. Twitt ? " asked Helmsley, turning
round in his chair, that he might see her better.
" It's this, Mister David," and Mrs. Twitt drew a long
breath in preparation before beginning the quotation, " an'
it's beautiful ! ' If the world hate you, ye know that it hated
Me before it hated you.' Now if that aint enuff to send us
on our way rejoicin', I don't know what is! For Lord
knows if the dear Christ was hated, we can put up wi' a bit
o' the hate for ourselves ! "
There was a pause.
" So Mr. Reay reads very well, does he ? " asked Mary.
" Fine ! " said Mrs. Twitt," 'E's a lovely man with a
lovely voice ! If 'e'd bin a parson 'e'd 'a drawed thousands
to 'ear 'im! 'E wouldn't 'a wanted crosses nor candles to
show us as 'e was speakin' true. Twitt sez to 'im t'other
day ' Why aint you a parson, Mr. Reay ? ' an' 'e sez, ' Cos
I'm goin' to be a preacher ! ' An' we couldn't make this
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 303
out nohow, till 'e showed us as 'ow 'e was a-goin' to tell
people things as they ought to know in the book 'e's writin'.
An' 'e sez it's the only way, cos the parsons is gettin' so
uppish, an' the Pope 'as got 'old o' some o' the newspapers,
so that there aint no truth told nowheres, unless a few
writers o' books will take 'art o' grace an' speak out. An'
'e sez there's a many as '11 do it, an' he tells Twitt ' Twitt,
sez he, ' Pin your faith on brave books ! Beware o' news-
papers, an' fight off the priest ! Read brave books books
that were written centuries ago to teach people courage an'
read brave books that are written now to keep courage
goin' ! ' An' we sez, so we will for books is cheap enuff,
God knows ! an' only t'other day Twitt went over to Mine-
head an' bought a new book by Sir Walter Scott called Guy
Mannering for ninepence. It's a grand story ! an' keeps us
alive every evenin'I I'm just mad on that old woman in
it Meg Merrilies she knew a good deal as goes on in the
world, I'll warrant! All about signs an' omens too. It's
just fine ! I'd like to see Sir Walter Scott ! "
" He's dead," said Mary, " dead long ago. But he was
a good as well as a great man."
"'E must 'a bin," agreed Mrs. Twitt; "I'm right sorry
'e's dead. Some folks die as is bound to be missed, an' some
folks lives on as one 'ud be glad to see in their long 'ome
peaceful at rest, forbye their bein' born so grumblesome like.
Twitt 'ud be at 'is best composin' a hepitaph for Mr.
Arbroath now ! "
As she said this the corners of her mouth, which usually
drooped in somewhat lachrymose lines, went up in a whim-
sical smile. And feeling that she had launched a shaft of
witticism which could not fail to reach its mark, she trotted
off on further gossiping errands bent.
The tenor of her conversation was repeated to Angus
Reay that afternoon when he arrived, as was often
his custom, for what was ostensibly " a chat with old
David," but what was really a silent, watchful worship
of Mary.
" She is a dear old soul ! " he said, " and Twitt is a rough
diamond of British honesty. Such men as he keep the old
country together and help to establish its reputation for in-
tegrity. But that man Arbroath ought to be kicked out of
the Church ! In fact, I as good as told him so ! "
" You did ! " And Helmsley's sunken eyes began to
304 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
sparkle with sudden animation. " Upon my word, sir, you
are very bold ! "
" Bold ? Why, what can he do to me ? " demanded
Angus. " I told him I had been for some years on the
press, and that I knew the ins and outs of the Jesuit propa-
ganda there. I told him he was false to the principles under
which he had been ordained. I told him that he was assist-
ing to introduce the Romish ' secret service ' system into
Great Britain, and that he was, with a shameless disregard
of true patriotism, using such limited influence as he had to
put our beloved free country under the tyranny of the
Vatican. I said, that if ever I got a hearing with the
British public, I meant to expose him, and all such similar
wolves in sheep's clothing as himself."
" But what did he say ? " asked Mary eagerly.
" Oh, he turned livid, and then told me I was an atheist,
adding that nearly all writers of books were of the same
evil persuasion as myself. I said that if I believed that the
Maker of Heaven and Earth took any pleasure in seeing him
perambulate a church with a cross and six wretched little
boys who didn't understand a bit what they were doing, I
should be an atheist indeed. I furthermore told him I be-
lieved in God, who upheld this glorious Universe by the
mere expressed power of His thought, and I said I believed
in Christ, the Teacher who showed to men that the only
way to obtain immortal life and happiness was by the con-
quest of Self. ' You may call that atheistical if you like/
I said, ' It's a firm faith that will help to keep me straight,
and that will hold me to the paths of right and truth without
any crosses or candles.' Then I told him that this little
village of Weircombe, in its desire for simplicity in forms
of devotion, was nearer heaven than he was. And and I
think," concluded Angus, ruffling up his hair with one hand,
" that's about all I told him ! "
Helmsley gave a low laugh of intense enjoyment.
" All ! " he echoed, " I should say it was enough ! "
" I hope it was," said Angus seriously, " I meant it to be."
And moving to Mary's side, he took up the end of a lace
flounce on which she was at work. " What a creation in
cobwebs ! " he exclaimed " Who does it belong to, Miss
Mary?"
" To a very great lady," she replied, working busily with
her needle and avoiding the glance of his eyes ; " her name
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 305
is often in the papers." And she gave it. " No doubt you
know her ? "
" Know her? Not I! " And he shrugged his shoulders
disdainfully. " But she is very generally known as a thor-
oughly bad woman ! I hate to see you working on anything
for her!"
She looked up surprised, and the colour came and went
in a delicate flush on her face.
" False to her husband, false to her children, and false
to herself!" went on Angus hotly "And disloyal to her
king! And having turned on her own family and her own
class, she seeks to truckle to the People under pretence of
serving them, while all the time her sole object is to secure
notoriety for herself ! She is a shame to England ! "
" You speak very hotly, sir ! " said Helmsley, slowly.
"Are you sure of your facts ? "
" The facts are not concealed," returned Reay " They
are public property. That no one has the courage to de-
nounce such women women who openly flaunt their im-
moralities in our midst is a bad sign of the times. Women
are doing a great deal of mischief just now. Look at them
fussing about Female Suffrage ! Female Suffrage, quotha !
Let them govern their homes properly, wisely, reasonably,
and faithfully, and they will govern the nation ! "
" That's true ! " And Helmsley nodded gravely. " That's
very true ! "
"A woman who really loves a man," went on Angus,
mechanically fingering the skeins of lace thread which lay
on the table at Mary's side, ready for use " governs him,
unconsciously to herself, by the twin powers of sex and
instinct. She was intended for his help-mate, to guide him
in the right way by her finer forces. If she neglects to cul-
tivate these finer forces if she tramples on her own natural
heritage, and seeks to ' best ' him with his own weapons
she fails she must fail she deserves to fail ! But as true
wife and true mother, she is supreme ! "
" But the ladies are not content with such a limited
sphere," began Helmsley, with a little smile.
" Limited ? Good God ! where does the limit come in ? "
demanded Reay. " It is because they are not sufficiently
educated to understand their own privileges that women
complain of limitations. An unthinking, unreasoning, un-
intelligent wife and mother is of course no higher than any
306 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
other female of the animal species but I do not uphold this
class. I claim that the woman who thinks, and gives her
intelligence full play the woman who is physically sound
and morally pure the woman who devoutly studies the
noblest side of life, and tries to bring herself into unison
with the Divine intention of human progress towards the
utmost good she, as wife and mother, is the angel of the
world. She is the world! she makes it, she rejuvenates it,
she gives it strength ! Why should she condescend to mix
with the passing political squabbles of her slaves and chil-
dren? for men are no more than her slaves and children.
Love is her weapon one true touch of that, and the wildest
heart that ever beat in a man's breast is tamed."
There was a silence. Suddenly Mary pushed aside her
work, and going to the door opened it.
" It's so warm to-day, don't you think? " she asked, pass-
ing her hand a little wearily across her forehead. " One
would think it was almost June."
" You are tired, Miss Mary ! " said Reay, somewhat
anxiously.
" No I'm not tired but " here all at once her eyes
filled with tears. " I've got a bit of a headache," she mur-
mured, forcing a smile " I think I'll go to my room and
rest for half an hour. Good-bye, Mr. Reay ! "
" Good-bye for the moment ! " he answered and taking
her hand he pressed it gently. " I hope the headache will
soon pass."
She withdrew her hand from his quickly and left the
kitchen. Angus watched her go, and when she had dis-
appeared heaved an involuntary but most lover-like sigh.
Helmsley looked at him with a certain whimsical amuse-
ment.
"Well! "he said.
Reay gave himself a kind of impatient shake.
' Well, old David ! " he rejoined.
' Why don't you speak to her ? "
' I dare not ! I'm too poor ! "
' Is she so rich ? "
' She's richer than I am."
' It is quite possible," said Helmsley slowly, " that she
will always be richer than you. Literary men must never
expect to be millionaires."
" Don't tell me that I know it ! " and Angus laughed.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 307
" Besides, I don't want to be a millionaire wouldn't be one
for the world ! By the way, you remember that man I told
you about the old chap my first love was going to marry
David Helmsley?"
Helmsley did not move a muscle.
" Yes I remember ! " he answered quietly.
" Well, the papers say he's dead."
" Oh ! the papers say he's dead, do they ? "
" Yes. It appeared that he went abroad last summer, it
is thought that he went to the States on some matters of
business and has not since been heard of."
Helmsley kept an immovable face.
" He may possibly have got murdered for his money,"
went on Angus reflectively" though I don't see how such
an act could benefit the murderer. Because his death
wouldn't stop the accumulation of his millions, which would
eventually go to his heir."
" Has he an heir? " enquired Helmsley placidly.
" Oh, he's sure to have left his vast fortune to somebody,"
replied Reay. " He had two sons, so I was told but they're
dead. It's possible he may have left everything to Lucy
Sorrel."
' Ah yes ! Quite possible ! "
" Of course," went on Reay, " it's only the newspapers
that say he's dead and there never was a newspaper yet
that could give an absolutely veracious account of anything.
His lawyers a famous firm, Vesey and Symonds, have
written a sort of circular letter to the press stating that the
report of his death is erroneous that he is travelling for
health's sake, and on account of a desire for rest and pri-
vacy, does not wish his whereabouts to be made publicly
known."
Helmsley smiled.
" I knew I might trust Vesey ! " he thought. Aloud he
said
" Well, I should believe the gentleman's lawyers more
than the newspaper reporters. Wouldn't you ? "
" Of course. I shouldn't have taken the least interest
in the rumour, if I hadn't been once upon a time in love
with Lucy Sorrel. Because if the old man is really dead
and has done nothing in the way of providing for her, I
wonder what she will do? "
" Go out charing ! " said Helmsley drily. " Many a better
308 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
woman than you have described her to be, has had to come
to that."
There was a silence. Presently Helmsley spoke again in
a quiet voice
" I think, Mr. Reay, you should tell all your mind to Miss
Mary."
Angus started nervously.
"Do you, David? Why?"
" Why ? well because " Here Helmsley spoke very
gently " because I believe she loves you ! "
The colour kindled in Reay's face.
"Ah, don't fool me, David ! " he said " you don't know
what it would mean to me "
" Fool you ! " Helmsley sat upright in his chair and looked
at him with an earnestness which left no room for doubt.
" Do you think I would ' fool ' you, or any man, on such
a matter? Old as I am, and lonely and friendless as I was,
before I met this dear woman, I know that love is the most
sacred of all things the most valuable of all things better
than gold greater than power the only treasure we can
lay up in heaven ' where neither moth nor rust do corrupt,
and where thieves do not break through nor steal ! ' Do
not " and here his strong emotion threatened to get the
better of him " do not, sir, think that because I was tramp-
ing the road in search of a friend to help me, before Miss
Mary found me and brought me home here and saved my
life, God bless her! do not think, I say, that I have no
feeling! I feel very much very strongly " He broke
off breathing quickly, and his hands trembled. Reay
hastened to his side in some alarm, remembering what Mary
had told him about the old man's heart.
" Dear old David, I know ! " he said. " Don't worry !
I know you feel it all I'm sure you do ! Now, for good-
ness' sake, don't excite yourself like this she she'll never
forgive me ! " and he shook up the cushion at the back of
Helmsley's chair and made him lean upon it. " Only it
would be such a joy to me such a wonder such a help
to know that she really loved me! loved me, David!
you understand why, I think I could conquer the
world ! "
Helmsley smiled faintly. He was suffering physical an-
guish at the moment the old sharp pain at his heart to
which he had become more or less wearily accustomed,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 309
had dizzied his senses for a space, but as the spasm passed
he took Reay's hand and pressed it gently.
" What does the Great Book tell us? " he muttered. '"If
a man would give all the substance of his house for love,
it would utterly be contemned ! ' That's true ! And I would
never ' fool ' or mislead you on a matter of such life and
death to you, Mr. Reay. That's why I tell you to speak
to Miss Mary as soon as you can find a good opportunity
for I am sure she loves you ! "
"Sure, David?"
"Sure!"
Reay stood silent, his eyes shining, and "the light that
never was on sea or land " transfigured his features.
At that moment a tap came at the door. A hand, evi-
dently accustomed to the outside management of the latch,
lifted it, and Mr. Twitt entered, his rubicund face one broad
smile.
" 'Afternoon, David ! 'Afternoon, Mister ! Wheer's Mis'
Deane?"
" She's resting a bit in her room," replied Helmsley.
" Ah, well ! You can tell 'er the news when she comes
in. Mr. Arbroath's away for 'is life wi' old Nick in full
chase arter 'im ! It don't do t'ave a fav'rite gel ! "
Helmsley and Reay stared at him, and then at one an-
other.
" Why, what's up ? " demanded Reay.
" Oh, nuthin' much ! " and Twitt's broad shoulders shook
with internal laughter. " It's wot 'appens often in the
fam'lies o' the haris-to-crazy, an' aint taken no notice of,
forbye 'tis not so common among poor folk. Ye see Mr.
Arbroath he he he he he he " and here the
pronoun " he " developed into a long chuckle. " He's
got a sweet'art on the sly, an' an' an' 'is wife's found
it out! Ha-ha-ha-he-he-he ! 'Is wife's found it out ! That's
the trouble ! An' she's gone an' writ to the Bishop 'erself !
Oh lor' ! Never trust a woman wi' cat's eyes ! She's writ
to the Bishop, an' gone 'ome in a tearin' fit o' the rantin*
'igh-strikes, an' Mister Arbroath 'e's follerd 'er, an' left
us wi' a curate a 'armless little chap wi' a bad cold in
'is 'ed, an' a powerful red. nose but 'onest an' 'omely like
'is own face. An' 'e'll take the services till our own vicar
comes 'ome, which'll be, please God, this day fortwV/t/.
But oh lor'! to think o' that grey-'aired rascal Arbroath
310 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
with a fav'rite gel on the sly! Ha-ha-ha-he-he-he ! We'se
be all mortal ! " and Twitt shook his head with profound
solemnity. " Ef I was a-goin' to carve a tombstone for that
'oly 'igh Churchman, I'd write on it the old 'ackneyed sayin',
' Man wants but little 'ere below, Nor wants that little
long ! ' Ha-ha-ha-he-he-he ! "
His round jolly face beamed with merriment, and Angus
Reay caught infection from his mirth and laughed heartily.
" Twitt, you're an old rascal ! " he exclaimed. " I really
believe you enjoy showing up Mr. Arbroath's little weak-
nesses ! "
" Not I not I, Mister ! " protested Twitt, his eyes twin-
kling. " I sez, be fair to all men ! I sez, if a parson wants
to chuck a gel under the chin, let 'im do so by all means,
God willin' ! But don't let 'im purtend as 5 e couldn't chuck
'er under the chin for the hull world! Don't let 'im go
round lookin' as if 'e was vinegar gone bad, an' preach at
the parish as if we was all mis'able sinners while 'e's the
mis'ablest one hisself. But old Arbroath damme ! " and
he gave a sounding slap to his leg in sheer ecstacy. " Caught
in the act by 'is wife! Oh lor', oh lor'! 'Is wife! An'
tint she a tartar ! "
" But how did all this happen ? " asked Helmsley, amused.
" Why, this way, David quite 'appy an' innocent like.
Missis Arbroath, she opens a letter from 'ome, which 'avin'
glanced at the envelope casual-like she thinks was beggin'
or mothers' meetin', an' there she finds it all out. Vicar's
fav'rite gel writin' for money or clothes or summat, an'
endin' up ' Yer own darlin' ! ' Ha-ha-ha-he-he-he ! Oh
Lord! There was an earthquake up at the rect'ry this
marnin' the cook there sez she never 'eerd sich a row
in all 'er life an' Missis Arbroath she was a-shriekin'
for a divorce at the top of 'er voice! It's a small place,
Weircombe Rect'ry, an' a woman can't shriek an' 'owl in
it without bein' 'eerd. So both the cook an' 'ousemaid
worn't by no manner o' means surprised when Mister Ar-
broath packed 'is bag an' went off in a trap to Minehead
an' we'll be left with a cheap curate in charge of our
pore souls! Ha-ha-ha! But 'e's a decent little chap, an'
there'll be no 'igh falutin' services with 'im, so we can all
go to Church next Sunday comfortable. An' as for old
Arbroath, we'll be seein' big 'edlines in the papers by and
by about ' Scandalous Conduck of a Clergyman with 'is
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 311
Fav'rite Gel ! ' ' Here he made an effort to pull a grave-
face, but it was no use, his broad smile beamed out once
more despite himself. " Arter all," he said, chuckling, " the
two things does fit in nicely together an' nat'ral like 'Igh
Jinks an' a fav'rite gel ! "
It was impossible not to derive a sense of fun from his
shining eyes and beaming countenance, and Angus Reay
gave himself up to the enjoyment of the moment, and
laughed again and again.
" So you think he's gone altogether, eh ? " he said, when
he could speak.
" Oh, 'e's gone all right ! " rejoined Twitt placidly. " A
man may do lots o' queer things in this world, an' so long,
as 'is old 'ooman don't find 'im out, it's pretty fair sailin' ;
but once a parson's wife gets 'er nose on to the par-
son's fav'rite, then all the fat's bound to be in the fire!'
An' quite right as it should be! I wouldn't bet on the
fav'rite when it come to a neck-an'-neck race atween the
two ! "
He laughed again, and they all talked awhile longer on
this unexpected event, which, to such a village as Weir-
combe, was one of startling importance and excitement,
and then, as the afternoon was drawing in and Mary did
not reappear, Angus Reay took his departure with Twitt,
leaving Helmsley sitting alone in his chair by the fire. But
he did not go without a parting word a word which was
only a whisper.
" You think you are sure, David ! " he said " Sure that
she loves me ! I wish you would make doubly, trebly sure I
for it seems much too good to be true ! "
Helmsley smiled, but made no answer.
When he was left alone in the little kitchen to which he
was now so accustomed, he sat for a space gazing into
the red embers of the fire, and thinking deeply. He had
attained what he never thought it would be possible to at-
tain a love which had been bestowed upon him for himself
alone. He had found what he had judged would be impos-
sible to find two hearts which, so far as he personally was
concerned, were utterly uninfluenced by considerations of
self-interest. Both Mary Deane and Angus Reay looked
upon him as a poor, frail old man, entirely defenceless and
dependent on the kindness and care of such strangers as
sympathised with his condition. Could they now be sud-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
<denly told that he was the millionaire, David Helmsley,
-they would certainly never believe it. And even if they
-were with difficulty brought to believe it, they would pos-
sibly resent the deception he had practised on them. Some-
times he asked himself whether it was quite fair or right
to so deceive them? But then, reviewing his whole life,
;and seeing how at every step of his career men, and women
too, had flattered him and fawned upon him as well as
fooled him for mere money's sake, he decided that surely
he had the right at the approaching end of that career to
make a fair and free trial of the world as to whether any
thing or any one purely honest could be found in it.
"For it makes me feel more at peace with God," he
said " to know and to realise that there are unselfish lov-
ing hearts to be found, if only in the very lowliest walks of
life! I, who have seen Society, the modern Juggernaut,
rolling its great wheels recklessly over the hopes and
joys and confidences of thousands of human beings I, who
know that even kings, who should be above dishonesty, are
tainted by their secret speculations in the money-markets
of the world, surely I may be permitted to rejoice for
my few remaining days in the finding of two truthful and
simple souls, who have no motive for their kindness to
me, who see nothing in me but age, feebleness and pov-
erty, and whom I have perhaps been the means, through
God's guidance, of bringing together. For it was to me
that Reay first spoke that day on the sea-shore and it
was at my request that he first entered Mary's home. Can
this be the way in which Divine Wisdom has chosen to
redeem me? I, who have never been loved as I would
have desired to be loved, am I now instructed how,
leaving myself altogether out of the question, I may pros-
per the love of others and make two noble lives happy?
It may be so, and that in the foundation of their joy, I
shall win my own soul's peace! So leaving my treasures
on earth, I shall find my treasure in heaven, ' where neither
moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break
through nor steal ! ' "
Still looking at the fire he watched the glowing embers,
now reddening, now darkening or leaping up into sparks
of evanescent flame, and presently stooping, picked up the
little dog Charlie from his warm corner on the hearth and
fondled him.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 313
" You were the first to love me in my loneliness ! " he
said, stroking the tiny animal's soft ears " And, to be
quite exact, I owe my life and all my present surround-
ings to you, Charlie! What shall I leave you in my will,
eh?"
Charlie yawned capaciously, showing very white teeth
and a very red tongue, and winked one bright eye.
" You're only a dog, Charlie ! You've no use for money !
You rely entirely upon your own attractiveness and the
kindness of human nature ! And so far your confidence
has not been misplaced. But your fidelity and affection are
only additional proofs of the powerlessness of money.
Money bought you, Charlie, no doubt, in the first place
but money failed to keep you ! And now, though by your
means Mary found me where I lay helpless and unconscious
on the hills in the storm, I can neither make you richer nor
happier, Charlie ! You're only a dog ! and a millionaire
is no more to you than any other man ! "
Charlie yawned comfortably again. He seemed to be
perfectly aware that his master was talking to him, but
what it was about he evidently did not know, and still
more evidently did not care. He liked to be petted and
made much of and presently curled himself up in a soft
silken ball on Helmsley's knee, with his little black nose
pointed towards the fire, and his eyes blinking lazily at the
sparkle of the flames. And so Mary found them, when
at last she came down from her room to prepare supper.
" Is the headache better, my dear ? " asked Helmsley, as
she entered.
" It's quite gone, David ! " she answered cheerily
" Mending the lace often tries one's eyes it was nothing
but that."
He looked at her intently.
" But you've been crying ! " he said, with real concern.
" Oh, David ! Women always cry when they feel like
it!"
"But did you feel like it?"
" Yes. I often do."
"Why?"
She gave a playful gesture with her hands.
" Who can tell! I remember when I was quite a child,
I cried when I saw the first primrose of the spring after
a long winter. I knelt down and kissed it, too! That's
S14 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
me all over. I'm stupid, David! My heart's too big for
me and there's too much in it that never comes out ! "
He took her hand gently.
" All shut up like a volcano, Mary ! But the fire is
there!"
She laughed, with a touch of embarrassment. '
" Oh yes ! The fire is there ! It will take years to cool
down ! "'
" May it never cool down ! " said Helmsley " I hope it
will always burn, and make life warm for you ! For with-
out the fire that is in your heart, my dear, Heaven itself
would be cold ! "
THE scandal affecting the Reverend Mr. Arbroath's repu-
tation which had been so graphically related by Twitt,
turned out to be true in every respect, and though consider-
able efforts were made to hush it up, the outraged feelings
of the reverend gentleman's wife were not to be silenced.
Proceedings for divorce were commenced, and it was un-
derstood that there would be no defence. In due course the
" big 'edlines " which announced to the world in general
that one of the most imperious " High " Anglicans of the
Church had not only slipped from moral rectitude, but had
intensified that sin by his publicly aggressive assumption
of hypocritical virtue, appeared in the newspapers, and the
village of Weircombe for about a week was brought into
a certain notoriety which was distinctly displeasing to itself.
The arrival of the " dailies " became a terror to it, and a
general feeling of devout thankfulness was experienced by
the whole community, when the rightful spiritual shepherd
of the little flock returned from his sojourn abroad to
take up the reigns of government, and restore law and order
to his tiny distracted commonwealth. Fortunately for the
peace of Weircombe, the frantic rush of social events, and
incidents in which actual " news " of interest has no part,
is too persistent and overwhelming for any one occurrence
out of the million to occupy more than a brief passing notice^
which is in its turn soon forgotten, and the " Scandalous
Conduck of a Clergyman," as Mr. Twitt had put it, was.
soon swept aside in other examples of " Scandalous Con-
duck " among all sorts and conditions of men and women,,
which, caught up by flying Rumour with her thousand
false and blatant tongues, is the sort of useless and per-
nicious stuff which chiefly keeps the modern press alive.
Even the fact that the Reverend Mr. Arbroath was sum-
marily deprived of his living and informed by the Bishop-
in the usual way, that his services would no longer be
required, created very little interest. Some months later
a small journalistic flourish was heard on behalf of the
discarded gentleman, upon the occasion of his being " re-
315
316 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ceived " into the Church of Rome, with all his sins for-
given, but so far as Weircombe was concerned, the story
of himself and his " fav'rite " was soon forgotten, and his
very name ceased to be uttered. The little community re-
sumed its normal habit of cheerful attendance at Church
every Sunday, satisfied to have shown to the ecclesiastical
powers that be, the fact that " 'Igh Jinks " in religion would
never be tolerated amongst them ; and the life of Weir-
combe went on in the usual placid way, divided between
work and prayer, and governed by the twin forces of peace
and contentment.
Meantime, the secret spells of Mother Nature were si-
lently at work in the development and manifestation of the
Spring. The advent of April came like a revelation of
divine beauty to the little village nestled in the " coombe,"
and garlanded it from summit to base with tangles of festal
flowers. The little cottage gardens and higher orchards
were smothered in the snow of plum and cherry-blossom,
primroses carpeted the woods which crowned the heights
of the hills, and the long dark spikes of bluebells, ready to
bud and blossom, thrust themselves through the masses of
last year's dead leaves, side by side with the uncurling fronds
of the bracken and fern. Thrushes and blackbirds piped
with cheerful persistence among the greening boughs of
the old chestnut which shaded Mary Deane's cottage, and
children roaming over the grassy downs above the sea,
brought news of the skylark's song and the cuckoo's call.
Many a time in these lovely, fresh and sunny April days
Angus Reay would persuade Mary away from her lace-
mending to take long walks with him across the downs,
or through the woods and on each occasion when they
started on these rambles together, David Helmsley would
sit and watch for their return in a curious sort of timorous
suspense wondering, hoping, and fearing, eager for the
moment when Angus should speak his mind to the woman
he loved, and yet always afraid lest that woman should, out
of some super-sensitive feeling, put aside and reject that
love, even though she might long to accept it. However,
day after day passed and nothing happened. Either Angus
hesitated, or else Mary was unapproachable and Helmsley
worried himself in vain. They, who did not know his
secret, could not of course imagine the strained condition
of mind in which their undeclared feelings kept him,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 317
and he found himself more perplexed and anxious over
their apparent uncertainty than he had ever been over some
of his greatest financial schemes. Facts and figures can
to a certain extent be relied upon, but the fluctuating hu-
mours and vagaries of a man and woman in love with each
other are beyond the most precise calculations of the skilled
mathematician. For it often happens that when they seem
to be coldest they are warmest and cases have been known
where they have taken the greatest pains to avoid each
other at a time when they have most deeply longed to be
always together. It was during this uncomfortable period
of uneasiness and hesitation for Helmsley, that Angus and
Mary were perhaps most supremely happy. Dimly, sweetly
conscious that the gate of Heaven was open for them and
that it was Love, the greatest angel of all God's mighty
host, that waited for them there, they hovered round and
round upon the threshold of the glory, eager, yet afraid to-
enter. Up in the primrose-carpeted woods together they
talked, like good friends, of a thousand things, of the
weather, of the promise of fruit in the orchards, of the
possibilities of a good fishing year, and of the general
beauty of the scenery around Weircombe. Then, of course,
there was the book which Angus was writing a book now
nearing completion. It was a very useful book, because
it gave them a constant and safe topic of conversation.
Many chapters were read and re-read many passages writ-
ten and re-written for Mary's hearing and criticism, and it
may at once be said that what had at first been merely
clever, brilliant, and intellectual writing, was now becom-
ing not so much a book as an artistic creation, through
which the blood and colour of human life pulsed and flowed,
giving it force and vitality. Sometimes they persuaded
Helmsley to accompany them on some of their shorter ram-
bles, but he was not strong enough to walk far, and he
often left them half-way up the " coombe," returning to
the cottage alone. Mary had frequently expressed a great
wish to take him to a favourite haunt of hers, which she
called the " Giant's Castle " but he was unable to make
the steep ascent so on one fine afternoon she took Angus
there instead. " The Giant's Castle " had no recognised
name among the Weircombe villagers save this one which
Mary had bestowed upon it, and which the children repeated
after her so often that it seemed highly probable that
.318 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
the title would stick to it for ever. " Up Giant's Castle
way " was quite a familiar direction to any one ascending
the " coombe," or following the precipitous and narrow path
which wound along the edge of the cliffs to certain pastures
where shepherds as well as sheep were in daily danger of
landslips, and which to the ordinary pedestrian were sig-
nalled by a warning board as " Dangerous." But " Giant's
Castle " itself was merely the larger and loftier of the
two towering rocks which guarded the sea-front of Weir-
combe village. A tortuous grassy path led up to its very
pinnacle, and from here, there was an unbroken descent as
.straight and smooth as a well-built wall, of several hundred
feet sheer down into the sea, which at this point swirled
round the rocky base in dark, deep, blackish-green eddies,
sprinkled with trailing sprays of brown and crimson weed.
It was a wonderful sight to look down upon this heaving
mass of water, if it could be done without the head swim-
ming and the eyes growing blind with the light of the sky
striking sharp against the restless heaving of the waves,
and Mary was one of the few who could stand fearlessly
on almost the very brink of the parapet of the " Giant's
Castle," and watch the sweep of the gulls as they flew under
and above her, uttering their brief plaintive cries of glad-
ness or anger as the wild wind bore them to and fro. When
Reay first saw her run eagerly to the very edge, and stand
there, a light, bold, beautiful figure, with the wind flut-
tering her garments and blowing loose a long rippling tress
of her amber-brown hair, he could not refrain from an
involuntary cry of terror, and an equally involuntary rush
to her side with his arms out-stretched. But as she turned
her sweet face and grave blue eyes upon him there was
something in the gentle dignity and purity of her look
that held him back, abashed, and curiously afraid. She
made him feel the power of her sex, a power invincible
when strengthened by modesty and reserve, and the easy
licence which modern women, particularly those of a de-
graded aristocracy, permit to men in both conversation and
behaviour nowadays, would have found no opportunity
of being exercised in her presence. So, though his impulse
moved him to catch her round the waist and draw her with
forcible tenderness away from the dizzy eminence on which
she stood, he dared not presume so far, and merely con-
tented himself with a bounding stride which brought him
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 819
to the same point of danger as herself, and the breathless
exclamation
" Miss Mary ! Take care ! "
She smiled.
" Oh, there is nothing to be frightened of ! " she said.
" Often and often I have come here quite alone and looked
down upon the sea in all weathers. Just after my father's
death, this used to be the place I loved best, where I could
feel that I was all by myself with God, who alone under-
stood my sadness. At night, when the moon is at the full,
it is very beautiful here. One looks down into the water
and sees a world of waving light, and then, looking up to
the sky, there is a heaven of stars ! and all the weary ways
of life are forgotten ! The angels seem so near ! "
A silent agreement with this latter statement shone in
Reay's eyes as he looked at her.
" It's good sometimes to find a woman who still believes
in angels," he said.
" Don't you believe in them ? "
" Implicitly, with all my heart and soul ! " And again
his eyes were eloquent.
A wave of rosy colour flitted over her face, and shading
her eyes from the strong glare of the sun, she gazed across
the sea.
" I wish dear old David could see this glorious sight ! "
she said. " But he's not strong and I'm afraid I hardly
like to think it that he's weaker than he knows."
" Poor old chap ! " said Angus, gently. " Any way, you've
done all you can for him, and he's very grateful. I hope
he'll last a few years longer."
" I hope so too," she answered quickly. " For I should
miss him very much. I've grown quite to love him."
" I think he feels that," and Angus seated himself on a
jutting crag of the " Giant's Castle " and prepared for the
utterance of something desperate. " Any one would, you
know ! "
She made no reply. Her gaze was fixed on the furthest
silver gleaming line of the ocean horizon.
" Any one would be bound to feel it, if you loved if
you were fond of him," he went on in rather a rambling
way. " It would make all the difference in the world '
She turned towards him quickly with a smile. Her
breathing was a little hurried.
S20 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Shall we go back now ? " she said.
" Certainly ! if if you wish but isn't it rather nice
up here?" he pleaded.
" We'll come another day," and she ran lightly down the
first half of the grassy path which had led them to the
summit. " But I mustn't waste any more time this after-
noon."
" Why ? Any pressing demands for mended lace ? " asked
Angus, as he followed her.
" Oh no ! Not particularly so. Only when the firm that
employs me, sends any very specially valuable stuff worth
five or six hundred pounds or so, I never like to keep it
longer that I can help. And the piece I'm at work on is
valued at a thousand guineas."
" Wouldn't you like to wear it yourself ? " he asked sud-
denly, with a laugh.
" I ? I wouldn't wear it for the world ! Do you know,
Mr. Reay, that I almost hate beautiful lace! I admire
the work and design, of course no one could help that
but every little flower and leaf in the fabric speaks to me
of so many tired eyes growing blind over the intricate
stitches so many weary fingers, and so many aching hearts
all toiling for the merest pittance! For it is not the
real makers of the lace who get good profit by their work,
it is the merchants who sell it that have all the advantage.
If I were a great lady and a rich one, I would refuse to
buy any lace from the middleman, I would seek out the
actual poor workers, and give them my orders, and see
that they were comfortably fed and housed as long as they
worked for me."
" And it's just ten chances to one whether they would
be grateful to you " Angus began. She silenced him
by a slight gesture.
" But I shouldn't care whether they were grateful or
not," she said. " I should be content to know that I had
done what was right and just to my fellow-creatures."
They had no more talk that day, and Helmsley, eagerly
expectant, and watching them perhaps more intently than
a criminal watches the face of a judge, was as usual dis-
appointed. His inward excitement, always suppressed, made
him somewhat feverish and irritable, and Mary, all uncon-
scious of the cause, stayed in to " take care of him " as she
said, and gave up her afternoon walks with Angus for a
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 321
time altogether, which made the situation still more per-
plexing, and to Helmsley almost unbearable. Yet there
was nothing to be done. He felt it would be unwise to
speak of the matter in any way to her she was a woman
who would certainly find it difficult to believe that she had
won, or could possibly win the love of a lover at her age;
she might even resent it, no one could tell. And so the
days of April paced softly on, in bloom and sunlight, till
May came in with a blaze of colour and radiance, and the
last whiff of cold wind blew itself away across the sea.
The " biting nor'easter," concerning which the comic press
gives itself up to senseless parrot-talk with each recurrence
of the May month, no matter how warm and beautiful that
month may be, was a " thing foregone and clean forgotten,"
and under the mild and beneficial influences of the mingled
sea and moorland air, Helmsley gained a temporary rush
of strength, and felt so much better, that he was able to
walk down to the shore and back again once or twice a
a day, without any assistance, scarcely needing even the aid
of his stick to lean upon. The shore remained his favourite
haunt ; he was never tired of watching the long waves roll
in, edged with gleaming ribbons of foam, and roll out again,
with the musical clatter of drawn pebbles and shells follow-
ing the wake of the backward sweeping ripple, and he
made friends with many of the Weircombe fisherfolk, who
were always ready to chat with him concerning themselves
and the difficulties and dangers of their trade. The chil-
dren, too, were all eager to run after " old David," as they
called him, and many an afternoon he would sit in the sun,
with a group of these hardy little creatures gathered about
him, listening entranced, while he told them strange stories
of foreign lands and far travels, travels which men took
" in search of gold " as he would say, with a sad little
smile " gold, which is not nearly so much use as it seems
to be."
"But can't us buy everything with plenty of money?"
asked a seven-year-old urchin, on one of these occasions,
looking solemnly up into his face with a pair of very round,
big brown eyes.
" Not everything, my little man," he answered, smooth-
ing the rough locks of the small inquirer with a very tender
hand. " I could not buy you, for instance ! Your mother
wouldn't sell you 1 "
322 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
The child laughed.
" Oh, no ! But I didn't mean me ! "
" I know you didn't mean me ! " and Helmsley smiled.
" But suppose some one put a thousand golden sovereigns
in a bag on one side, and you in your rough little torn
clothes on the other, and asked your mother which she
would like best to have what do you think she would
say?"
" She'd 'ave me ! " and a smile of confident satisfaction
beamed on the grinning little face like a ray of sunshine.
" Of course she would ! The bag of sovereigns would
be no use at all compared to you. So you see we cannot
buy everything with money."
" But most things ? " queried the boy " Eh ? "
" Most things perhaps," Helmsley answered, with a
slight sigh. " But those ' most things ' are not things of
much value even when you get them. You can never buy
love, and that is the only real treasure, the treasure of
Heaven ! "
The child looked, at him, vaguely impressed by his sudden
earnestness, but scarcely understanding his words.
" Wouldn't you like a little money ? " And the inquisitive
young eyes fixed themselves on his face with an expression
of tenderest pity. " You'se a very poor old man ! "
Helmsley laughed, and again patted the little curly head.
" Yes yes a very poor old man ! " he repeated. " But
I don't want any more than I've got ! "
One afternoon towards mid-May, a strong yet soft sou'-
wester gale blew across Weircombe, bringing with it light
showers of rain, which, as they fell upon the flowering
plants and trees, brought out all the perfume of the spring
in such rich waves of sweetness, that, though as yet there
were no roses, and the lilac was only just budding out,
the whole countryside seemed full of the promised fra-
grance of the blossoms that were yet to be. The wind
made scenery in the sky, heaping up snowy masses of cloud
against the blue in picturesque groups resembling Alpine
heights, and fantastic palaces of fairyland, and when,
after a glorious day of fresh and invigorating air which
swept both sea and hillside, a sudden calm came with the
approach of sunset, the lovely colours of earth and heaven,
melting into one another, where so pure and brilliant, that
Mary, always a lover of Nature, could not resist Angus
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 323
Reay's earnest entreaty that she would accompany him to
see the splendid departure of the orb of day, in all its
imperial panoply of royal gold and purple.
" It will be a beautiful sunset," he said " And from the
' Giant's Castle ' rock, a sight worth seeing."
Helmsley looked at him as he spoke, and looking, smiled.
" Do go, my dear," he urged " And come back and tell
me all about it."
" I really think you want me out of your way, David ! "
she said laughingly. " You seem quite happy when I leave
you
" You don't get enough fresh air," he answered evasively.
" And this is just the season of the year when you most
need it."
She made no more demur, and putting on the simple
straw hat, which, plainly trimmed with a soft knot of
navy-blue ribbon, was all her summer head-gear, she left
the house with Reay. After a while, Helmsley also went
out for his usual lonely ramble on the shore, from whence
he could see the frowning rampart of the " Giant's Castle "
above him, though it was impossible to discern any person
who might be standing at its summit, on account of the
perpendicular crags that intervened. From both shore and
rocky height the scene was magnificent. The sun, dipping
slowly down towards the sea, shot rays of glory around
itself in an aureole of gold, which, darting far upwards, and
spreading from north to south, pierced the drifting masses
of floating fleecy cloud like arrows, and transfigured their
whiteness to splendid hues of fiery rose and glowing ame-
thyst, while just between the falling Star of Day and the
ocean, a rift appeared of smooth and delicate watery green,
touched here and there with flecks of palest pink and ardent
violet. Up on the parapet of the " Giant's Castle," all this
loyal panoply of festal colour was seen at its best, sweeping
in widening waves across the whole surface of the Heavens ;
and there was a curious stillness everywhere, as though
earth itself were conscious of a sudden and intense awe.
Standing on the dizzy edge of her favourite point of vantage,
Mary Deane gazed upon the sublime spectacle with eyes
so passionately tender in their far-away expression, that,
to Angus Reay, who watched those eyes with much more
rapt admiration than he bestowed upon the spendour of the
sunset, they looked like the eyes of some angel, who, seeing
824 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
heaven all at once revealed, recognised her native home, and
with the recognition, was prepared for immediate flight.
And on the impulse which gave him this fantastic thought,
he said softly
" Don't go away, Miss Mary ! Stay with us with me
as long as you can ! "
She turned her head and looked at him, smiling.
" Why, what do you mean ? I'm not going away any-
where who told you that I was ? "
" No one," and Angus drew a little nearer to her
" But just now you seemed so much a part of the sea and
the sky, leaning forward and giving yourself entirely over
to the glory of the moment, that I felt as if you might float
away from me altogether." Here he paused then added
in a lower tone " And I could not bear to lose you ! "
She was silent. But her face grew pale, and her lips
quivered. He saw the tremor pass over her, and inwardly
rejoiced, his own nerves thrilling as he realised that,
after all, if if she loved him, he was the master of her
fate.
" We've been such good friends," he went on, dallying with
his own desire to know the best or worst " Haven't we ? "
" Indeed, yes ! " she answered, somewhat faintly. " And
I hope we always will be."
" I hope so, too ! " he answered in quite a matter-of-fact
way. " You see I'm rather a clumsy chap with women "
She smiled a little.
"Are you?"
" Yes, I mean I never get on with them quite as well
as other fellows do somehow and er and what I want
to say, Miss Mary, is that I've never got on with any woman
so well as I have with you and "
He paused. At no time in his life had he been at such
a loss for language. His heart was thumping in the most
extraordinary fashion, and he prodded the end of his walk-
ing-stick into the ground with quite a ferocious earnestness.
She was still looking at him and still smiling.
" And," he went on ramblingly, " that's why I hope we
shall always be good friends."
As he uttered this perfectly commonplace remark, he
cursed himself for a fool. " What's the matter with me ? "
he inwardly demanded. " My tongue seems to be tied up !
I'm going to have lockjaw ! It's awful ! Something
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 325
better than this has got to come out of me somehow ! " And
acting on a brilliant flash of inspiration which suddenly
seemed to have illumined his brain, he said
" The fact is, I want to get married. I'm thinking
about it."
How quiet she was! She seemed scarcely to breathe.
" Yes ? " and the word, accentuated without surprise and
merely as a question, was spoken very gently. " I do hope
you have found some one who loves you with all her heart ! "
She turned her head away, and Angus saw, or thought
he saw, the bright tears brim up from under her lashes and
slowly fall. Without another instant's pause he rushed
upon his destiny, and in that rush grew strong.
" Yes, Mary ! " he said, and moving to her side he caught
her hand in his own " I dare to think I have found that
some one ! I believe I have ! I believe that a woman whom
I love with all my heart, loves me in return ! If I am mis-
taken, then I've lost the whole world! Tell me, Mary!
Am I wrong? "
She could not speak, the tears were thick in her eyes.
" Mary dear, dearest Mary ! " and he pressed the hand
he held " You know I love you ! you know "
She turned her face towards him a pale, wondering
face, and tried to smile.
" How do I know ? " she murmured tremulously " How
can I believe? I'm past the time for love! "
For all answer he drew her into his arms.
"Ask Love itself about that, Mary!" he said. "Ask
my heart, which beats for you, ask my soul, which longs
for you ! ask me, who worship you, you, best and dearest
of women, about the time for love! That time for us is
now, Mary ! now and always ! "
Then came a silence that eloquent silence which sur-
passes all speech. Love has no written or spoken language
it is incommunicable as God. And Mary, whose nature
was open and pure as the daylight, would not have been
the woman she was if she could have expressed in words
the deep tenderness and passion which at that supreme mo-
ment silently responded to her lover's touch, her lover's
embrace. And when, lifting her face between his two
hands, he gazed at it long and earnestly, a smile, shining
between tears, brightened her sweet eyes.
" You are looking at me as if you never saw me before,
326 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Angus ! " she said, her voice sinking softly, as she pro-
nounced his name.
" Positively, I don't think I ever have ! " he answered.
" Not as you are now, Mary ! I have never seen you look
so beautiful! I have never seen you before as my love!
my wife ! "
She drew herself a little away from him.
"But, are you sure you are doing right for yourself?"
she asked " You know you could marry anybody "
He laughed, and threw one arm round her waist.
" Thanks ! I don't want to marry ' anybody ' I want
to marry you ! The question is, will you have me ? "
She smiled.
" If I thought it would be for your good "
Stooping quickly he kissed her.
" That's very much for my good ! " he declared. " And
now that I've told you my mind, you must tell me yours.
Do you love me, Mary ? "
" I'm afraid you know that already too well ! " she said,
with a wistful radiance in her eyes.
" I don't ! " he declared " I'm not at all sure of you "
She interrupted him.
"Are you sure of yourself?"
"Mary!"
" Ah, don't look so reproachful ! It's only for you I'm
thinking ! You see I'm nothing but a poor working woman
of what is called the lower classes I'm not young, and
I'm not clever. Now you've got genius ; you'll be a great
man some day, quite soon perhaps you may even become
rich as well as famous, and then perhaps you'll be sorry you
ever met me "
" In that case I'll call upon the public hangman and ask
him to give me a quick despatch," he said promptly;
" Though I shouldn't be worth the expense of a rope ! "
" Angus, you won't be serious ! "
" Serious ? I never was more serious in my life ! And
I want my question answered."
"What question?"
" Do you love me ? Yes or no ! "
He held her close and looked her full in the face as he
made this peremptory demand. Her cheeks grew crimson,
but she met his searching gaze frankly.
" Ah, though you are a man, you are a spoilt child ! "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 327
she said. " You know I love you more than I can say !
and yet you want me to tell you what can never be
told!"
He caught her to his heart, and kissed her passionately.
" That's enough ! " he said " For if you love me, Mary,
your love is love indeed! it's no sham; and like all true
and heavenly things, it will never change. I believe, if I
turned out to be an utter wastrel, you'd love me still ! "
" Of course I should ! " she answered.
" Of course you would ! " and he kissed her again.
" Mary, my Mary, if there were more women like you,
there would be more men! men in the real sense of the
word manly men, whose love and reverence for women
would make them better and braver in the battle of life.
Do you know, I can do anything now, with you to love me !
I don't suppose," and here he unconsciously squared his
shoulders " I really don't suppose there is a single diffi-
culty in my way that I won't conquer ! "
She smiled, leaning against him.
" If^you feel like that, I am very happy! " she said.
As she spoke, she raised her eyes to the sky, and uttered
an involuntary exclamation.
" Look, look ! " she cried " How glorious ! "
The heavens above them were glowing red, forming a
dome of burning rose, deepening in hue towards the sea,
where the outer rim of the nearly vanished sun was slowly
disappearing below the horizon and in the centre of this
ardent glory, a white cloud, shaped like a dove with out-
spread wings, hung almost motionless. The effect was mar-
vellously beautiful, and Angus, full of his own joy, was
more than ever conscious of the deep content of a spirit
attuned to the infinite joy of nature.
" It is like the Holy Grail," he said, and, with one arm
round the woman he loved, he softly quoted the lines :
" And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail,
Rose-red, with beatings in it as if alive 1 "
" That is Tennyson," she said.
" Yes that is Tennyson the last great poet England
can boast," he answered. " The poet who hated hate and
loved love."
" All poets are like that," she murmured.
328 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Not all, Mary ! Some of the modern ones hate love and
love hate ! "
" Then they are not poets," she said. " They would not
see any beauty in that lovely sky and they would not
understand "
" Us ! " finished Angus. " And I assure you, Mary at the
present moment, we are worth understanding ! "
She laughed softly.
" Do we understand ourselves ? " she asked.
" Of course we don't ! If we did, we should probably be
miserable. It's just because we are mysterious one to
another, that we are so happy. No human being should
ever try to analyse the fact of existence. It's enough that
we exist and that we love each other. Isn't it, Mary ? "
" Enough ? It is too much, too much happiness alto-
gether for me, at any rate," she said. " I can't believe in
it yet! I can't really, Angus! Why should you love
me?"
" Why, indeed ! " And his eyes grew dark and warm
with tenderness " Why should you love me? "
" Ah, there's so much to love in you ! " and she made
her heart's confession with a perfectly naive candour. " I
daresay you don't see it yourself, but I do ! "
" And I assure you, Mary," he declared, with a whim-
sical solemnity, " that there's ever so much more to love
in you ! I know you don't see it for yourself, but I do ! "
Then they laughed together like two children, and all
constraint was at an end between them. Hand in hand they
descended the grassy steep of the " Giant's Castle "
charmed with one another, and at every step of the way
seeing some new delight which they seemed to have missed
before. The crimson sunset burned about them like the
widening petals of a rose in fullest bloom, earth caught
the fervent glory and reflected it back again in many vary-
ing tints of brilliant colour, shading from green to gold,
from pink to amethyst and as they walked through the
splendid vaporous light, it was as though they were a living
part of the glory of the hour.
" We must tell David," said Mary, as they reached the
bottom of the hill. " Poor old dear ! I think he will be
glad."
" I know he will ! " and Angus smiled confidently. " He's
been waiting for this ever since Christmas Day ! "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN $29
Mary's eyes opened in wonderment.
" Ever since Christmas Day ? "
" Yes. I told him then that I loved you, Mary, that I
wanted to ask you to marry me, but that I felt I was too
poor "
Her hand stole through his arm.
" Too poor, Angus ! Am I not poor also ? "
" Not as poor as I am," he answered, promptly possess-
ing himself of the caressing hand. " In fact, you're quite
rich compared to me. You've got a house, and you've got
work, which brings you in enough to live upon, now I
haven't a roof to call my own, and my stock of money is
rapidly coming to an end. I've nothing to depend upon but
my book, and if I can't sell that when it's finished, where
am I? I'm nothing but a beggar less well off than I was
as a wee boy when I herded cattle. And I'm not going
to marry you "
She stopped in her walk and looked at him with a smile.
" Oh Angus ! I thought you were ! "
He kissed the hand he held.
" Don't make fun of me, Mary! I won't allow it! I am
going to marry you! but I'm not going to marry you till
I've sold my book. I don't suppose I'll get more than
a hundred pounds for it, but that will do to start housekeep-
ing together on. Won't it ? "
" I should think it would indeed ! " and she lifted her
head with quite a proud gesture " It will be a fortune ! "
" Of course," he went on, " the cottage is yours, and all
that is in it. I can't add much to that, because to my
mind, it's just perfect. I never want any sweeter, prettier
little home. But I want to work for you, Mary, so that
you'll not have to work for yourself, you understand ? "
She nodded her head gravely.
" I understand ! You want me to sit with my hands
folded in my lap, doing nothing at all, and getting lazy
and bad-tempered."
" Now you know I don't ! " he expostulated.
" Yes, you do, Angus ! If you don't want me to work,
you want me to be a perfectly useless and tiresome woman !
Why, my dearest, now that you love me, I should like
to work all the harder! If you think the cottage pretty, I
shall try to make it even prettier. And I don't want to
give up all my lace-mending. It's just as pleasant and in-
330 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
teresting as the fancy-work which the rich ladies play with.
You must really let me go on working, Angus! I shall
be a perfectly unbearable person if you don't ! "
She looked so sweetly at him, that as they were at the
moment passing under the convenient shadow of a tree,
he took her in his artns and kissed her.
" When you become a perfectly unbearable person," he
said, " then it will be time for another deluge, and a general
renovation of human kind. You shall work if you like, my
Mary, but you shall not work for me. See ? "
A tender smile lingered in her eyes.
" I see ! " and linking her arm through his again, she
moved on with him over the thyme-scented grass, her dress
gently sweeping across the stray clusters of golden cow-
slips that nodded here and there. " / will work for myself,
you will work for me, and old David will work for both
of us!"
They laughed joyously.
" Poor old David ! " said Angus. " He's been wondering
why I have not spoken to you before, he declared he
couldn't understand it. But then I wasn't quite sure whether
you liked me at all "
" Weren't you ? " and her glance was eloquent.
" No and I asked him to find out ! "
She looked at him in a whimsical wonderment.
" You asked him to find out ? And did he ? "
" He seems to think so. At any rate, he gave me courage
to speak."
Mary grew suddenly meditative.
" Do you know, Angus," she said, " I think old David
was sent to me for a special purpose. Some great and
good influence guided him to me I am sure of it. You don't
know all his history. Shall I tell it to you ? "
" Yes do tell me but I think I know it. Was he not a
former old friend of your father's ? "
" No that's a story I had to invent to satisfy the curi-
osity of the villagers. It would never have done to let
them know that he was only an old tramp whom I found
ill and nearly dying out on the hills during a great storm
we had last summer. There had been heavy thunder and
lightning all the afternoon, and when the storm ceased I
went to my door to watch the clearing off of the clouds,
and I heard a dog yelping pitifully on the hill just above
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN SSI
the 'coombe. I went out to see what was the matter, and
there I found an old man lying quite unconscious on the
wet grass, looking as if he were dead, and a little dog you
know Charlie? guarding him and barking as loudly as it
could. Well, I brought him back to life, and took him
home and nursed him and that's all. He told me his
name was David and that he had been ' on the tramp ' to
Cornwall to find a friend. You know the rest."
" Then he is really quite a stranger to you, Mary ? " said
Angus wonderingly.
" Quite. He never knew my father. But I am sure
if Dad had been alive, he would have rescued him just as
I did, and then he would have been his ' friend,' he could
not have helped himself. That's the way J argued it out to
my own heart and conscience."
Angus looked at her.
" You darling ! " he said suddenly.
She laughed.
" That doesn't come in ! " she said.
" It does come in ! It comes in everywhere ! " he declared.
" There's no other woman in the world that would have
done so much for a poor forlorn old tramp like that, adrift
on the country roads. And you exposed yourself to some
risk, too, Mary! He might have been a dangerous char-
acter ! "
" Poor dear, he didn't look it," she said gently " and he
hasn't proved it. Everything has gone well for me since
I did my best for him. It was even through him that you
came to know me, Angus! think of that! Blessings on
the dear old man! I'm sure he must be an angel in
disguise ! "
He smiled.
" Well, we never know ! " he said. " Angels certainly
don't come to us with all the celestial splendour which
is supposed to belong to them they may perhaps choose
the most unlikely way in which to make their errands
known. I have often especially lately thought that I
have seen an angel looking at me out of the eyes of a
woman ! "
" You will talk poetry ! " protested Mary.
" I'm not talking it I'm living it ! " he answered.
There was nothing to be said to this. He was an in-
corrigible lover, and remonstrances were in vain.
332 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" You must not tell David's real history to any of the
villagers," said Mary presently, as they came in sight of her
cottage " I wouldn't like them to know it."
"They shall never know it so far as I am concerned,"
he answered. " He's been a good friend to me and I
wouldn't cause him a moment's trouble. I'd like to make
him happier if I could ! "
" I don't think that's possible," and her eyes were
clouded for a moment with a shadow of melancholy " You
see he has no money, except the little he earns by basket-
making, and he's very far from strong. We must be kind
to him, Angus, as long as he needs kindness."
Angus agreed, with sundry ways of emphasis that need
not here be narrated, as they composed a formula which
could not be rendered into set language. Arriving at the
cottage they found the door open, and no one in the kitchen,
but on the table lay two sprigs of sweetbriar. Angus
caught sight of them at once.
" Mary! See! Don't you think he knows? "
She stood hesitating, with a lovely wavering colour in
her cheeks.
" Don't you remember," he went on, " you gave me a
bit of sweetbriar on the evening of the first day we ever
met?"
" I remember ! " and her voice was very soft and tremu-
lous.
" I have that piece of sweetbriar still," he said ; " I shall
never part with it. And old David must have known all
about it ! "
He took up the little sprays set ready for them, and
putting one in his own buttonhole, fastened the other in
her bodice with a loving, lingering touch.
" It's a good emblem," he said, kissing her " Sweet
Briar sweet Love! not without thorns, which are the
safety of the rose ! "
A slow step sounded on the garden path, and they saw
Helmsley approaching, with the tiny " Charlie " running
at his heels. Pausing on the threshold of the open door,
he looked at them with a questioning smile.
"Well, did you see the sunset?" he asked, "Or only
each other ? "
Mary ran to him, and impulsively threw her arms about
his neck.
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 333
"Oh David!" she said. "Dear old David! I am so
happy ! "
He was silent, her gentle embrace almost unmanned
him. He stretched out a hand to Angus, who grasped it
warmly.
" So it's all right ! " he said, in a low voice that trembled
a little. "You've settled it together?"
" Yes we've settled it, David ! " Angus answered cheer-
ily. " Give us your blessing ! "
" You have that God knows you have that ! " and as
Mary, in her usual kindly way, took his hat and stick from
him, keeping her arm through his as he went to his ac-
customed chair by the fireside, he glanced at her tenderly.
" You have it with all my heart and soul, Mr. Reay ! and
as for this dear lady who is to be your wife, all I can say
is that you have won a treasure yes, a treasure of good-
ness and sweetness and patience, and most heavenly kind-
rtpcc "
ness
His voice failed him, and the quick tears sprang to Mary's
eyes.
" Now, David, please stop ! " she said, with a look be-
tween affection and remonstrance. " You are a terrible
flatterer! You mustn't spoil me."
" Nothing will spoil you ! " he answered, quietly. " Noth-
ing could spoil you! All the joy in the world, all the
prosperity in the world, could not change your nature, my
dear ! Mr. Reay knows that as well as I do, and I'm sure
he thanks God for it! You are all love and gentleness,
as a woman should be, as all women would be if they were
wise ! "
He paused a moment, and then, raising himself a little
more uprightly in his chair, looked at them both earnestly.
" And now that you have made up your minds to share
your lives together," he -went on, " you must not think that
I will be so selfish as to stay on here and be a burden to
you both. I should like to see you married, but after that
I will go away "
" You will do nothing of the sort ! " said Mary, dropping
on her knees beside him and lifting her serene eyes to
his face. " You don't .want to make us unhappy, do you ?
This is your home, as long as it is ours, remember! We
would not have you leave us on any account, would we.
Angus?"
334 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Indeed no ! " answered Reay, heartily. " David, what
are you talking about? Aren't you the cause of my
knowing Mary? Didn't you bring me to this dear little
cottage first of all? Don't I owe all my happiness to you?
And you talk about going away! It's pretty evident you
don't know what's good for you ! Look here ! If I'm good
for anything at all, I'm good for hard work and for that
matter I may as well go in for the basket-making trade as
well as the book-making profession. We've got Mary to
work for, David ! and we'll both work for her together ! "
Helmsley turned upon him a face in which the expres-
sion was difficult to define.
" You really mean that ? " he said.
"Really mean it! Of course I do! Why shouldn't I
mean it ? "
There was a moment's silence, and Helmsley, looking
down on Mary as she knelt beside him, laid his hand caress-
ingly on her hair.
" I think," he said gently, " that you are both too kind-
hearted and impulsive, and that you are undertaking a
task which should not be imposed upon you. You offer
me a continued home with you after your marriage but
who am I that I should accept such generosity from you?
I am not getting younger. Every day robs me of some
strength and my work such work as I can do will be
of very little use to you. I may suffer from illness, which will
cause you trouble and expense, death is closer to me than
life and why should I die on your hands? It can only
mean trouble for you if I stay on, and though I am
grateful to you with all my heart more grateful than
I can say " and his voice trembled " I know I ought
to be unselfish, and that the truest and best way to thank
you for all you have done for me is to go away and leave
you in peace and happiness "
" We should not be happy without you, David ! " de-
clared Mary. " Can't you, won't you understand that we
are both fond of you ? "
" Fond of me ! " And he smiled. " Fond of a useless
old wreck who can scarcely earn a day's wage ! "
" That's rather wide of the mark, David ! " said Reay.
" Mary's not the woman and I'm sure I'm not the man
to care for any one on account of the money he can make.
We like you for yourself, so don't spoil this happiest day
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 335
of our lives by suggesting any separation between us. Do
you hear ? "
" I hear ! " and a sudden brightness flashed up in Helms-
ley's sunken eyes, making them look almost young " And
I understand! I understand that though I am poor and
old, and a stranger to you, you are giving me friendship
such as rich men often seek for and never find ! and I will
try, yes, I will try, God helping me, to be worthy of your
trust ! If I stay with you "
" There must me no ' if ' in the case, David ! " said Mary,
smiling up at him.
He stroked her bright hair caressingly.
" Well, then, I will put it not ' if,' but as long as I stay
with you," he answered " as long as I stay with you, I
will do all I can to show you how grateful I am to you,
and and I will never give you cause " here he spoke
more slowly, and with deliberate emphasis " I will never
give you cause to regret your confidence in me! I want
you both to be glad not sorry that you spared a lonely
old man a little of your affection ! "
" We are glad, David ! " and Mary, as he lifted his hand
from her head, caught it and kissed it lightly. " And we
shall never be sorry ! And here is Charlie " and she
picked up the little dog as she spoke and fondled it play-
fully, " wondering why he is not included in the family
party ! For, after all, it is quite your affair, isn't it, Charlie ?
You were the cause of my finding David out on the hills!
and David was the cause of my knowing Angus so if
it hadn't been for you, nothing would have happened at
all, Charlie! and I should have been a lonely old maid
all the days of my life! And I can't do anything to show
my gratitude to you, you quaint wee soul, but give you a
saucer of cream ! "
ShjC laughed, and springing up, began to prepare the
tea. While she was moving quickly to and fro on this
household business, Helmsley beckoned Reay to come closer
to him.
" Speak frankly, Mr. Reay ! " he said. " As the master
of her heart, you are the master of her home. I can easily
slip away and tramping is not such hard work in summer
time. Shall I go?"
" If you go, I shall start out and bring you back again,"
replied Reay, shaking his head at him determinedly. " You
336 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
won't get so far but that I shall be able to catch you up in
an hour! Please consider that you belong to us, and
that we have no intention of parting with you ! "
Tears rose in Helmsley's eyes, and for a moment he
covered them with his hand. Angus saw that he was
deeply moved, and to avoid noticing him, especially as he
was somewhat affected himself by the touching grateful-
ness of this apparently poor and lonely old man, went after
Mary with all the pleasant ease and familiarity of an ac-
cepted lover, to help her bring in the tea. The tiny
" Charlie," meanwhile, sitting on the hearth in a vigilantly
erect attitude, with quivering nose pointed in a creamward
direction, waited for the approach of the expected afternoon
refreshment, trembling from head to tail with nervous ex-
citement. And Helmsley, left alone for those few moments,
presently mastered the strong emotion which made him
long to tell his true history to the two sincere souls who,
out of his whole life's experience, had alone proved them-
selves faithful to the spirit of a friendship wherein the
claims of cash had no part. Regaining full command of
himself, and determining to act out the part he had elected
to play to whatever end should most fittingly arrive, an
end he could not as yet foresee, he sat quietly in his chair
as usual, gazing into the fire with the meditative patience
and calm of old age, and silently building up in a waking
dream the last story of his House of Love, which now
promised to be like that house spoken of in the Divine
Parable " And the rain descended, and the floods came,
and the winds blew and beat upon that house, and it fell
not, for it was founded upon a rock." For as he knew,
and as we all must surely know, the greatest rains and
floods and winds of a world of sorrow, are powerless to
destroy love, if love be true.
CHAPTER XX
THREE days later, when the dawn was scarcely declared
and the earliest notes of the waking birds trembled on the
soft air with the faint sweetness of a far-off fluty piping,
the door of Mary Deane's cottage opened stealthily, and
David Helmsley, dressed ready for a journey, stepped noise-
lessly out into the little garden. He wore the same ordinary
workman's outfit in which he had originally started on his
intended " tramp," including the vest which he had lined
with bank-notes, and which he had not used once since his
stay with Mary Deane. For she had insisted on his wearing
the warmer and softer garments which had once belonged
to her own father, and all these he had now taken off
and left behind him, carefully folded up on the bed in his
room. He had examined his money and had found it just
as he had placed it, even the little " surprise packet "
which poor Tom o' the Gleam had collected for his benefit
in the " Trusty Man's " common room, was still in the side-
pocket where he had himself put it. Unripping a corner
of the vest lining, he took out two five-pound notes, and
with these in a rough leather purse for immediate use, and
his stout ash stick grasped firmly in his hand, he started out
to walk to the top of the coombe where he knew the path
brought him to the verge of the highroad leading to Mine-
head. As he moved almost on tip-toe through Mary's gar-
den, now all fragrant with golden wall-flowers, lilac, and
mayblossom, he paused a moment, looking up at the pic-
turesque gabled eaves and latticed windows. A sudden
sense of loneliness affected him almost to tears. For now
he had not even the little dog Charlie with him to console
him that canine friend slept in a cushioned basket in
Mary's room, and was therefore all unaware that his mas-
ter was leaving him.
" But, please God, I shall come back in a day or two ! "
he murmured. " Please God, I shall see this dear shrine
of peace and love again before I die! Meanwhile good-
bye, Mary! Good-bye, dearest and kindest of women!
God bless you ! "
337
338 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
He turned away with an effort and, lifting- the latch
of the garden gate, opened it and closed it softly behind him.
Then he began the ascent of the coombe. Not a soul was
in sight, the actual day had not yet begun. The hill tor-
rent flowed along with a subdued purling sound over the
rough stones and pebbles, there had been little rain of late,
and the water was shallow, though clear and bright enough
to gleam like a wavering silver ribbon in the dimness of
the early morning, and as he followed it upward and
finally reached a point from whence the open sea was visible,
he rested a moment, leaning on his stick and looking back-
ward on the way he had come. Strangely beautiful and
mystical was the scene his eyes dwelt upon, or rather per-
haps it should be said that he saw it in a somewhat strange
and mystical fashion of his own. There, out beyond the
furthest edge of land, lay the ocean, shadowed just now by
a delicate dark grey mist, which, like a veil, covered its
placid bosom, a mist which presently the rising sun would
scatter with its glorious rays of gold ; here at his feet
nestled Weircombe, a cluster of simple cottages, sweetly
adorned by nature with her fairest garlanding of spring-
time flowers, and behind him, just across a length of bar-
ren moor, was the common highroad leading to the wider,
busier towns. And he thought as he stood alone, a frail
and solitary figure, gazing dreamily out of himself, as it
were, to things altogether beyond himself, that the dim
and shadowy ocean was like the vast Unknown which we
call Death, which we look upon tremblingly, afraid of
its darkness, and unable to realise that the sun of Life will
ever rise again to pierce its gloom with glory. And the
little world the only world that can be called a world,
namely, that special corner of the planet which holds the
hearts that love us a world which for him, the multi-
millionaire, was just a tiny village with one sweet woman
living in it resembled a garland of flowers flung down
from the rocks as though to soften their ruggedness, a gar-
land broken asunder at the shoreline, even as all earthly
garlands must break and fade at the touch of the first cold
wave of the Infinite. As for the further road in which
he was about to turn and go, that, to his fancy, was a
nearer similitude of an approach to hell than any scene
ever portrayed in Dante's Divine Comedy. For it led to
the crowded haunts of men the hives of greedy business,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 339
the smoky, suffocating centres where each human unit
seeks to over-reach and outrival the other where there is
no time to be kind no room to be courteous; where the
passion for gain and the worship of self are so furious and
inexhaustible, that all the old fair virtues which make
nations great and lasting, are trampled down in the dust,
and jeered at as things contemptible and of no value,
where, if a man is honourable, he is asked " What do you
get by it?" and where, if a woman would remain simple
and chaste, she is told she is giving herself " no chance."
In this whirl of avarice, egotism, and pushfulness, Helms-
ley had lived nearly all his life, always conscious of, and
longing for, something better something truer and more
productive of peace and lasting good. Almost everything
he had touched had turned to money, while nothing he had
ever gained had turned to love. Except now now when
the end was drawing nigh when he must soon say farewell
to the little earth, so replete with natural beauty farewell
to the lovely sky, which whether in storm or calm, ever
shows itself as a visible reflex of divine majesty and power
farewell to the sweet birds, which for no thanks at all,
charm the ear by their tender songs and graceful winged
ways farewell to the flowers, which, flourishing in the
woods and fields without care, lift their cups to the sun,
and fill the air with fragrance, and above all, farewell to
the affection which he had found so late ! to the heart whose
truth he had tested to the woman for whose sake, could
he in some way have compassed her surer and greater hap-
piness, he would gladly have lived half his life over again,
working with every moment of it to add to her joy. But
an instinctive premonition warned him that the sands in
Time's hour-glass were for him running to an end, there
was no leisure left to him now for any new scheme or plan
by which he could improve or strengthen that which he had
already accomplished. He realised this fully, with a passing
pang of regret which soon tempered itself into patient
resignation, and as the first arrowy beam of the rising
sun shot upwards from the east, he slowly turned his back
on the quiet hamlet where in a few months he had found
what he had vainly sought for in many long and weary
years, and plodded steadily across the moor to the high-
road. Here he sat down on the bank to wait till some con-
veyance going to Minehead should pass by for he knew
340 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
he had not sufficient strength to walk far. " Tramping
it " now was for him impossible, moreover, his former
thirst for adventure was satisfied; he had succeeded in
his search for " a friend " without going so far as Cornwall.
There was no longer any cause for him to endure unnec-
essary fatigue so he waited patiently, listening to the first
wild morning carol of a skylark, which, bounding up from
its nest hard by, darted into the air with quivering wings
beating against the dispersing vapours of the dawn, and sang
aloud in the full rapture of a joy made perfect by inno-
cence. And he thought of the lovely lines of George
Herbert :
" How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean
Are Thy returns ! Ev'n as the flowers in Spring,
To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring;
Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there were no such cold thing.
" Who would have thought my shrivell'd heart
Could have recover'd greenness? It was gone
Quite under ground; as flowers depart
To see their mother-root, when they have blown,
Where they together -
All the hard weather,
Dead to the world, keep house unknown.
" These are Thy wonders, Lord of power,
Killing and quick'ning, bringing down to Hell
And up to Heaven in an hour;
Making a chiming of a passing bell.
We say amiss
This or that is ;
Thy Word is all, if we could spell!"
" If we could spell ! " he murmured, half aloud. " Ay,
if we could learn even a quarter of the alphabet which
would help us to understand the meaning of that ' Word ! '
the Word which ' was in the beginning, and the word
was with God, and the word was God ! ' Then we should be
wise indeed with a wisdom that would profit us, we should
have no fears and no forebodings, we should know that all
is, all must be for the best ! " And he raised his eyes to the
slowly brightening sky. " Yet, after all, the attitude of
simple faith is the right one for us, if we would call our-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 341!
selves children of God the faith which affirms ' Though
He slay me, yet will I trust in Him ! ' '
As he thus mused, a golden light began to spread around
him, the sun had risen above the horizon, and its cheerful
radiance sparkled on every leaf and every blade of grass
that bore a drop of dew. The morning mists rose hover-
ingly, paused awhile, and then lightly rolled away, disclosing
one picture after another of exquisite sylvan beauty, every
living thing took up anew its burden of work and pleasure
for the day, and " Now " was again declared the acceptable
time. To enjoy the moment, and to make much of the
moment while it lasts, is the very keynote of Nature's hap-
piness, and David Helmsley found himself on this particular
morning more or less in tune with the general sentiment.
Certain sad thoughts oppressed him from time to time, but
they were tempered and well-nigh overcome by the secret
pleasure he felt within himself at having been given the
means wherewith to ensure happiness for those whom he
considered were more deserving of it than himself. And he
sat patiently watching the landscape grow in glory as the
sun rose higher and higher, till presently, struck by a sudden
fear lest Mary Deane should get up earlier than usual, and
missing him, should come out to seek for him, he left the
bank by the road-side, and began to trudge slowly along in
the direction of Minehead. He had not walked for a much
longer time than about ten minutes, when he heard the
crunching sound of heavy wheels behind him, and, looking
back, saw a large mill waggon piled with sacks of flour
and drawn by two sturdy horses, coming leisurely along.
He waited till it drew near, and then called to the wag-
goner
" Will you give me a lift to Minehead for half a crown? "
The waggoner, stout, red-faced, and jolly-looking, nod-
ded an emphatic assent.
" I'd do it for 'arf the money ! " he said. " Gi' us yer
'and, old gaffer!"
The " old gaffer " obeyed, and was soon comfortably
seated between the projecting corners of two flour sacks,
which in their way were as comfortable as cushions.
" 'Old on there," said the waggoner, " an' ye'll be as safe
as though ye was in Abram's bosom. Not that I knows
much about Abram anyway. Wheer abouts d'ye want in
Minehead ? "
342 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" The railway station."
" Right y' are ! That's my ticket too. Ttre<3 o>' trampin'
it, I' s'pose, aint ye ? "
" A bit tired yes. I've walked since daybreak/'
The waggoner cracked his whip, and the horses plodded
on. Their heavy hoofs on the dusty road, and the noise
made by the grind of the cart wheels, checked any attempt
at prolonged conversation, for which Helmsley was thank-
ful. He considered himself lucky in having met with a total
stranger, for the name of the owner of the waggon, which
was duly displayed both on the vehicle itself and the sacks of
flour it contained, was unknown to him, and the place from
which it had come was an inland village several miles away
from Weircombe. He was therefore safe so far from
any chance of recognition. To be driven along in a heavy
mill cart was a rumblesome, drowsy way of travelling, but
it was restful, and when Minehead was at last reached, he
did not feel himself at all tired. The waggoner had to get
his cargo of flour off by rail, so there was no lingering in
the town itself, which was as yet scarcely astir. They were
in time for the first train going to Exeter, and Helmsley,
changing one of his five-pound notes at the railway station,
took a third-class ticket to that place. Then he paid the
promised half-crown to his friendly driver, with an extra
threepence for a morning " dram," whereat the waggoner
chuckled.
" Thankee ! I zee ye be no temp'rance man ! "
Helmsley smiled.
" No. I'm a sober man, not a temperance man ! "
"Ay! We'd a parzon in these 'ere parts as was tem-
p'rance, but 'e took 'is zpirits different like ! 'E zkorned 'is
glass, but 'e loved 'is gel! Har ar ar! Ivir 'eerd o'
Parzon Arbroath as woz put out o' the Church for 'avin' a
fav'rite?"
" I saw something about it in the papers," said Helmsley.
"Ay, 'twoz in the papers. Har ar ar! 'E woz a
temp'rance man. But wot I sez is, we'se all a bit o' devil
in us, an' we jcan't be temp'rance ivry which way. An' zo,
if not the glass, then the gel ! Har ar ar ! Good-day t'
ye, an' thank ye kindly ! "
\ He went off then, and a few minutes later the tram came
gliding in. The whirr and noise of the panting engine con-
fused Helmsley's ears and dazed his brain, after his months
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 343
of seclusion in such a quiet little spot as Weircombe, and
he was seized with quite a nervous terror and doubt as to
whether he would be able, after all, to undertake the journey
he had decided upon, alone. But an energetic porter put an
end to his indecision by opening all the doors of the various
compartments in the train and banging them to again,
whereupon he made up his mind quickly, and managed,
with some little difficulty, to clamber up the high step of a
third-class carriage and get in before the aforesaid porter
had the chance to push him in head foremost. In another
few minutes the engine whistle set up a deafening scream,
and the train ran swiftly out of the station. He was off ;
the hills, the sea, were left behind and Weircombe rest-
ful, simple little Weircombe, seemed not only miles of dis-
tance, but ages of time away ! Had he ever lived there, he
hazily wondered ? Would he ever go back ? Was he " old
David the basket-maker," or David Helmsley the million-
aire? He hardly knew. It did not seem worth while to
consider the problem of his own identity. One figure alone
was real, one face alone smiled out of the cloudy vista of
thoughts and memories, with the true glory of an ineffable
tenderness the sweet, pure face of Mary, with her clear
and candid eyes lighting every expression to new loveliness.
On Angus Reay his mind did not dwell so much Angus
was a man and as a man he regarded him with warm liking
and sympathy but it was as the future husband and pro-
tector of Mary that he thought of him most as the one out
of all the world who would care for her, when he, David
Helmsley, was no more. Mary was the centre of his dreams
the pivot round which all his last ambitions in this world
were gathered together in one focus, without her there
was, there could be nothing for him nothing to give peace
or comfort to his last days nothing to satisfy him as to
the future of all that his life had been spent to gain.
Meantime, while the train bearing him to Exeter was
rushing along through wide and ever-varying stretches of
fair landscape, there was amazement and consternation in
the little cottage he had left behind him. Mary, rising from
a sound night's sleep, and coming down to the kitchen as
usual to light the fire and prepare breakfast, saw a letter on
the table addressed to her, and opening, it read as follows :
344 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" MY DEAR MARY, Do not be anxious this morning when
you find that I am gone. I shall not be long away. I have
an idea of getting some work to do, which may be more
useful to you and Angus than my poor attempts at basket-
making. At any rate I feel it would be wrong if I did not
try to obtain some better paying employment, of a kind
which I can do at home, so that I may be of greater assist-
ance to you both when you marry and begin your double
housekeeping. Old though I am and ailing, I want to feel
less of a burden and more of a help. You will not think
any the worse of me for wishing this. You have been so
good and charitable to me in my need, that I should not die
happy if I, in my turn, did not make an effort to give you
some substantial proof of gratitude. This is Tuesday morn-
ing, and I shall hope to be home again with you before Sun-
day. In the meanwhile, do not worry at all about me, for
I feel quite strong enough to do what I have in my mind.
I leave Charlie with you. He is safest and happiest in your
care. Good-bye for a little while, dear, kind friend, and
God bless you! DAVID."
She read this with amazement and distress, the tears well-
ing up in her eyes.
" Oh, David ! " she exclaimed. " Poor, poor old man !
What will he do all by himself, wandering about the country
with no money ! It's dreadful ! How could he think of
such a thing! He is so weak, too! he can't possibly get
very far ! "
Here a sudden thought struck her, and picking up Charlie,
who had followed her downstairs from her bedroom and
was now trotting to and fro, sniffing the air in a somewhat
disconsolate and dubious manner, she ran out of the house
bareheaded, and hurried up to the top of the " coombe."
There she paused, shading her eyes from the sun and look-
ing all about her. It was a lovely morning, and the sea,
calm and sparkling with sunbeams, shone like a blue glass
flecked with gold. The sky was clear, and the landscape
fresh and radiant with the tender green of the springtime
verdure. But everything was quite solitary. Vainly her
glance swept from left to right and from right to left again,
there was no figure in sight such as the one she sought
and half-expected to discover. Putting Charlie down to
follow at her heels, she walked quickly across the interven-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN S45
ing breadth of moor to the highroad, and there paused, look-
ing up and down its dusty length, hoping against hope that
she might see David somewhere trudging slowly along on
his lonely way, but there was not a human creature visible.
Charlie, assuming a highly vigilant attitude, cocked his tiny
ears and sniffed the air suspiciously, as though he scented
the trail of his lost master, but no clue presented itself as
likely to serve the purpose of tracking the way in which he
had gone. Moved by a sudden loneliness and despondency,
Mary slowly returned to the cottage, carrying the little dog
in her arms, and was affected to tears again when she en-
tered the kitchen, because it looked so empty. The bent
figure, the patient aged face, on which for her there was
ever a smile of grateful tenderness these had composed a
picture by her fireside to which she had grown affectionately
accustomed, and to see it no longer there made her feel
almost desolate. She lit the fire listlessly and prepared her
own breakfast without interest it was a solitary meal and
lacked flavour. She was glad when, after breakfast, Angus
Reay came in, as was now his custom, to say good-morning,
and to " gain inspiration," so he told her, for his day's
work. He was no less astonished than herself at David's
sudden departure.
" Poor old chap ! I believe he thinks he is in our
way, Mary ! " he said, as he read the letter of explana-
tion which their missing friend had left behind him. " And
yet he says quite plainly here that he will be back be-
fore Sunday. Perhaps he will. But where can he have
gone to ? "
" Not far, surely ! " and Mary looked, as she felt, per-
plexed. " He has no money ! "
"Not a penny?"
" Not a penny ! He makes me take everything he earns
to help pay for his keep and as something towards the cost
of his illness last year. I don't want it but it pleases him
that I should have it "
" Of course I understand that," and Angus slipped an
arm round her waist, while he read the letter through again.
" But if he hasn't a penny, how can he get along? "
" He must be on the tramp again," said Mary. " But
he isn't strong enough to tramp. I went up the coombe
this morning and right out to the highroad, for I thought
I might see him and catch up with him because I know it
346 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
would take him ever so long to walk a mile. But he had
gone altogether."
Reay stood thinking.
" I tell you what, Mary," he said at last, " I'll take a brisk
walk down the road towards Minehead. I should think
that's the only place where he'd try for work. I daresay I
shall overtake him."
Her eyes brightened.
" Yes, that's quite possible," and she was evidently
pleased at the suggestion. " He's so old and feeble, and
you're so strong and quick on your feet "
" Quick with my lips, too," said Angus, promptly kissing
her. " But I shall have to be on my best behaviour now
you're all alone in the cottage, Mary! David has left you
defenceless ! "
He laughed, but as she raised her eyes questioningly to
his face, grew serious.
" Yes, my Mary ! You'll have to stay by your own sweet
lonesome ! Otherwise all the dear, kind, meddlesome old
women in the village will talk! Mrs. Twitt will lead the
chorus, with the best intentions, unless and this is a dread-
ful alternative ! you can persuade her to come up and play
propriety ! "
The puzzled look left her face, and she smiled though a
wave of colour flushed her cheeks.
" Oh ! I see what you mean, Angus ! But I'm too old
to want looking after I can look after myself."
" Can you ? " And he took her into his arms and held
her fast. " And how will you do it? "
She was silent a moment, looking into his eyes with a
grave and musing tenderness. Then she said quietly
" By trusting you, my love, now and always ! "
Very gently he released her from his embrace very
reverently he kissed her.
" And you shall never regret your trust, you dear, sweet
angel of a woman ! Be sure of that ! Now I'm off to look
for David I'll try and bring him back with me. By the
way, Mary, I've told Mr. and Mrs. Twitt and goo*d old
Bunce that we are engaged so the news is now the public
property of the whole village. In fact, we might just as
well have put up the banns and secured the parson ! "
He laughed his bright, jovial laugh, and throwing on his
cap went out, striding up the coombe with swift, easy steps,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 347
and whistling joyously " My Nannie O " as he made the
ascent. Twice he turned to wave his hand to Mary who
stood watching him from her garden gate, and then he dis-
appeared. She waited a moment among all the sweetly per-
fumed flowers in her little garden, looking at the bright
glitter of the hill stream as it flowed equably by.
" How wonderful it is," she thought, " that God should
have been so good to me ! I have done nothing to deserve
any love at all, and yet Angus loves me ! It seems too beau-
tiful to be real! I am not worthy of such happiness!
Sometimes I dare not think too much of it lest it should all
prove to be only a dream ! For surely no one in the world
could wish for a better life than we shalLlive Angus and
I in this dear little cottage together, he with his writing,
which I know will some day move the world, and I with
my usual work, helping as much as I can to make his life
sweet to him. For we have the great secret of all joy we
love each other ! "
With her eyes full of the dreamy light of inward heart's
content, she turned and went into the house. The sight of
David's empty chair by the fire troubled her, but she tried
to believe that Angus would succeed in finding him on the
highroad, and in persuading him to return at once. To-
wards noon Mrs. Twitt came in, somewhat out of breath,
on account of having climbed the village street more rapidly
than was her custom on such a warm day as it had turned
out to be, and straightway began conversation.
" Wonders 'ull never cease, Mis' Deane, an' that's a fact ! "
she said, wiping her hot face with the corner of her apron
" An' while there's life there's 'ope ! I'd as soon 'a thought
o' Weircombe Church walkin' down to the shore an' turnin'
itself into a fishin' smack, as that you'd a' got engaged to be
married ! I would, an' that's a Gospel truth ! Ye seemed
so steady like an' settled lor' a mtissy me ! " And here,
despite her effort to look serious, a broad smile got the better
of her. " An' a fine man too you've got, none o' your
scallywag weaklings as one sees too much of nowadays, but
a real upright sort o' chap wi' no nonsense about 'im. An'
I wishes ye well, Mary, my dear," and the worthy soul
took Mary's hand in hers and gave her a hearty kiss. " For
it's never too late to mend, as the Scripter tells us, an' forbye
ye're not in yer green gooseberry days there's those as thinks
ripe fruit better than sour-growin' young codlings. An' ye
348 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
may take 'art o' grace for one thing them as marries young
settles quickly old an' to look at the skin an' the 'air an'
the eyes of ye, you beat ivery gel I've ivir seen in the twen-
ties, so there's good preservin' stuff in ye wot'll last. An' I
bet you're more fond o' the man ye've got late than if ye'd
caught 'im early ! "
Mary laughed, but her eyes were full of wistful tender-
ness.
" I love him very dearly," she said simply " And I know
he's a great deal too good for me."
Mrs. Twitt sniffed meaningly.
" Well, I'm not in any way sure o' that," she observed.
" When a man's too good for a woman it's what we may
call a Testymen' miracle. For the worst wife as ivir lived
is never so bad as a bad 'usband. There's a suthin' in a
man wot's real devil-like when it gits the uppermost of 'im
an' 'e's that crafty born that I've known 'im to be singin'
hymns one hour an' drinkin' 'isself silly the next. 'Owsom-
ever, Mister Reay seems a decent chap, forbye 'e do give 'is
time to writin' which don't appear to make 'is pot boil "
" Ah, but he will be famous ! " interrupted Mary exult-
antly. " I know he will ! "
"An' what's the good o' that?" enquired Mrs. Twitt.
*' If bein' famous is bein' printed about in the noospapers,
I'd rather do without it if I wos 'im. Parzon Arbroath got
famous that way ! " And she chuckled. " But the great
pint is that you an' 'e is a-goin' to be man an' wife, an' I'm
right glad to 'ear it, for it's a lonely life ye've been leadin'
since yer father's death, forbye ye've got a bit o' company
in old David. An' wot'll ye do with David when you're
married? "
" He'll stay on with us, I hope," said Mary. " But this
morning he has gone away and we don't know where he
can have gone to."
Mrs. Twitt raised her eyes and hands in astonishment.
" Gone away ? "
" Yes." And Mary showed her the letter Helmsley had
written, and explained how Angus Reay had started off to
walk towards Minehead, in the hope of overtaking the
wanderer.
" Well, I never ! " And Mrs. Twitt gave a short gasp
of wonder. " Wants to find employment, do 'e? The poor
old innercent! Why, Twitt would 'a given 'im a job in
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN S49
the stoneyard if Vd 'a known. He'll never find a thing to
do anywheres on the road at 'is age ! "
And the news of David's sudden and lonely departure
affected her more powerfully than the prospect of Mary's
marriage, which had, in the first place, occupied all her
mental faculties.
" An' that reminds me," she went on, " of 'ow the warnin'
came to me yesterday when I was a-goin' out to my wash-
tub an' I slipt on a bit o' potato peelin'. That's allus a sign
of a partin' 'twixt friends. Put that together with the lump
o' clinkers as flew out o' the fire last week and split in two
in the middle of the kitchen, an' there ye 'ave it all writ plain.
I sez to Twitt ' Suthin's goin' to 'appen ' an' 'e sez in 'is
fool way ' G'arn, old woman, suthin's allus a-'appenin'
somewheres ' then when Mister Reay looked in all smiles
an' sez ' Good-mornin', Twitt ! I'm goin' to marry Miss
Mary Deane! Wish us joy! ' Twitt, 'e up an' sez, ' There's
your suthin', old gel ! A marriage ! ' an' I sez, ' Not at all,
Twitt not at all, Mister Reay, if I may make so bold, but
slippin' on peel don't mean marriage, nor yet clinkers,
though two spoons in a saucer does convey 'ints o' the same,
an' two spoons was in Twitt's saucer only this very mornin'.
Which I wishes both man an' woman as runs the risk ever-
lastin' joy ! ' An' Twitt, as is allus puttin' in 'is word where
'taint wanted, sez, ' Don't talk about everlastin' joy, mother,
'tis like a hepitaph ' which I answers quick an' sez, ' Your
mind may run on hepitaphs, Twitt, seein' 'tis your livin', but
mine don't do no such thing, an' when I sez everlastin' joy
for man an' wife, I means it.' An' then Mister Reay conies
an' pats me on the shoulder cosy like an' sez, ' Right you
are, Mrs. Twitt ! ' an' 'e walks off laughin', an' Twitt 'e
laughs too an' sez, ' Good luck to the bridegroom an' the
bride,' which I aint denyin', but there was still the thought
o' the potato peel an' the clinker, an' it's come clear to-day
now I've 'eerd as 'ow poor old David's gone ! " She paused
to take breath, and shook her head solemnly. " It's my
opinion 'e'll never come back no more ! "
" Oh, don't say that ! " exclaimed Mary, distressed.
" Don't even think it ! "
But Mrs. Twitt was not to be shaken in her pronounce-
ment.
' 'E'll never come back no more ! " she said. " An' the
children on the shore 'ull miss 'im badly, for 'e was a reg'lar
350 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Father Christmas to 'em, not givin' presents by any manner
o' means, 'avin' none to give, but tellin' 'em stories as kep'
'em quiet an' out of 'arms way for 'ours, an' mendin' their
toys an' throwin' their balls an' spinnin' their tops like the
'armless old soul 'e was ! I'm right sorry 'e's gone ! Weir-
combe '11 miss 'im for sartin sure ! "
And this was the general feeling of the whole village when
the unexpected departure of " old David " became known.
Angus Reay, returning in the afternoon, reported that he
had walked half the way, and had driven the other half with
a man who had given him a lift in his trap, right into Mine-
head, but had seen and heard nothing of the missing waif
and stray. Coming back to Weircombe with the carrier's
cart, he had questioned the carrier as to whether he had seen
the old man anywhere along the road, but this inquiry like-
wise met with failure.
" So the only thing to do, Mary," said Angus, finally, " is
to believe his own written word, that he will be back with
us before Sunday. I don't think he meani to leave you alto-
gether in such an abrupt way, that would be churlish and
ungrateful and I'm sure he is neither."
" Oh, he's anything but churlish ! " she answered quickly.
" He has always been most thoughtful and kind to me ; and
as for gratitude ! why, the poor old dear makes too much
of it altogether one would think I had given him a fortune
instead of just taking common human care of him. I ex-
pect he must have worked in some very superior house of
business, for though he's so poor, he has all the ways of a
gentleman."
" What are the ways of a gentleman, my Mary ? " de-
manded Angus, gaily. " Do you know ? I mean, do you
know what they are nowadays? To stick a cigar in one's
mouth and smoke it all the time a woman is present to keep
one's hat on before her, and to talk to her in such a loose,
free and easy fashion as might bring one's grandmother out
of her grave and make her venerable hair curl ! Those are
the ' ways ' of certain present-time ' gentlemen ' who keep
all the restaurants and music-halls of London going and
I don't rank good old David with these. I know what you
mean you mean that he has all the fine feeling, delicacy and
courtesy of a gentleman, as ' gentlemen ' used to be before
our press was degraded to its present level by certain clowns
and jesters who make it their business to jeer at every " gen-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 351
tlemanly ' feeling that ever inspired humanity yes, I under-
stand ! He is a gentleman of the old school, well, I think
he is and I think he would always be that, if he tramped
the road till he died. He must have seen better days."
" Oh yes, I'm sure of that ! " said Mary. " So many
really capable men get turned out of work because they
are old "
" Well, there's one advantage about my profession," in-
terrupted Angus. " No one can turn me out of literature
either for young or old age, if I choose to make a name in it !
Think of that, my Mary ! The glorious independence of
it! An author is a law unto himself, and if he succeeds, he
is the master of his own fate. Publishers are his humble
servants waiting eagerly to snatch up his work that they
may get all they can for themselves out of it, and the
public the great public which, apart from all * interested '
critical bias, delivers its own verdict, is always ready to
hearken and to applaud the writer of its choice. There is
no more splendid and enviable life ! if I could only make a
hundred pounds a year by it, I would rather be an author
than a king ! For if one has something in one's soul to say
something that is vital, true, and human as well as divine,
the whole world will pause to listen. Yes, Mary ! In all its
toil and stress, its scheming for self-advantage, its political
changes, its little temporary passing shows of empires and
monarchies, the world will stop to hear what the Thinker
and the Writer tells it ! The words of old Socrates still ring
down the ages the thoughts of Shakespeare are still the
basis of English literature! what a grand life it is to be
among the least of one of the writing band! I tell you,
Mary, that even if I fail, I shall be proud to have at any rate
tried to succeed ! "
" You will not fail ! " she said, her eyes glowing with
enthusiasm. " I shall see you win your triumph ! "
" Well, if I cannot conquer everything with you by my
side, I shall be but a poor and worthless devil ! " he an-
swered. " And now I must be off and endeavour to make
up for my lost time this morning, running after David !
Poor old chap! Don't worry about him, Mary. I think
you may take his word for it that he means to be back before
Sunday."
He left her then, and all the day and all the evening too
she spent the time alone. It would have been impossible to
352 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
her to express in words how greatly she missed the compan-
ionship of the gentle old man who had so long been the
object of her care. There was a sense of desolate emptiness
in the little cottage such as had not so deeply affected her
for years not indeed since the first months following imme-
diately on her own father's death. That Angus Reay kept
away was, she knew, care for her on his part. Solitary
woman as she was, the villagers, like all people who live in
very small, mentally restricted country places, would have
idly gossiped away her reputation had she received her lover
into her house alone. So she passed a very dismal time all
by herself ; and closing up the house early, took little Charlie
in her arms and went to bed, where, much to her own abash-
ment, she cried herself to sleep.
Meanwhile, David himself, for whom she fretted, had ar-
rived in Exeter. The journey had fatigued him consider-
ably, though he had been able to get fairly good food and
a glass of wine at one of the junctions where he had changed
en route. On leaving the Exeter railway station, he made
his way towards the Cathedral, and happening to chance on
a very small and unpretending " Temperance Hotel " in a
side street, where a placard intimating that " Good Accom-
modation for Travellers " might be had within, he entered
and asked for a bedroom. He obtained it at once, for his
appearance was by no means against him, being that of a
respectable old working man who was prepared to pay his
way in a humble, but perfectly honest fashion. As soon as
he had secured his room, which was a curious little three-
cornered apartment, partially obscured by the shadows of
the many buttresses of the Cathedral, his next care was to
go out into the High Street and provide himself with a good
stock of writing materials. These obtained, he returned to
his temporary lodging, where, after supper, he went to bed
early in order to rise early. With the morning light he was
up and dressed, eager to be at work, an inrush of his old
business energy came back on him, his brain was clear, his
mental force keen and active. There happened to be an
old-fashioned oak table in his room, and drawing this to
the window, he sat down to write the document which his
solicitor and friend, Sir Francis Vesey, had so often urged
him to prepare his Will. He knew what a number of legal
technicalities might, or could be involved in this business,
and was therefore careful to make it as short, clear, and
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 353
concise as possible, leaving no chance anywhere open of
doubt or discussion. And with a firm, unwavering pen, in
his own particularly distinct and characteristic caligraphy,
he disposed of everything of which he died possessed " ab-
solutely and without any conditions whatsoever " to Mary
Deane, spinster, at present residing in Weircombe, Somer-
set, adding the hope that she would, if she saw fit to do so,
carry out certain requests of his, the testator's, as conveyed
privately to her in a letter accompanying the Will. All the
morning long he sat thoughtfully considering and weighing
each word he used till at last, when the document was
finished to his satisfaction, he folded it up, and putting it in
his pocket, started out to get his midday meal and find a
lawyer's office. He was somewhat surprised at his own
alertness and vigour as he walked through the streets of
Exeter on this quest ; excitement buoyed him up to such a
degree that he was not conscious of the slightest fatigue or
lassitude he felt almost young. He took his lunch at a
small restaurant where he saw city clerks and others of that
type going in, and afterwards, strolling up a dull little street
which ended in a cul de sac, he spied a dingy archway, offer-
ing itself as an approach to a flight of equally dingy stairs.
Here a brass plate, winking at the passer-by, stated that
" Rowden and Owlett, Solicitors," would be found on the
first floor. Helmsley paused, considering a moment then,
making up his mind that " Rowden and Owlett " would suit
his purpose as well as any other equally unknown firm, he
slowly climbed the steep and unwashed stair. Opening the
first door at the top of the flight, he saw a small boy leaning
both arms across a large desk, and watching the gyrations
of two white mice in a revolving cage.
" Hullo ! " said the boy sharply, " what d' ye want ? "
" I want to see Mr. Rowden or Mr. Owlett," he replied.
" Right y' are ! " and the boy promptly seized the cage
containing the white mice and hid it in a cupboard.
" You're our first caller to-day. Mr. Rowden's gone to
Dawlish, but Mr. Owlett's in. Wait a minute."
Helmsley obeyed, sitting down in a chair near the door,
and smiling to himself at the evidences of slack business
which the offices of Messrs. Rowden and Owlett presented.
In about five minutes the boy returned, and gave him a
confidential nod.
" You can go in now," he said ; " Mr. Owlett was taking
354, THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
his after-dinner snooze, but he's jumped up at once, and he's
washed his hands and face, so he's quite ready for business.
This way, please ! "
He beckoned with a rather dirty finger, and Helmsley
followed him into a small apartment where Mr. Owlett, a
comfortably stout, middle-aged gentleman, sat at a large
bureau covered with papers, pretending to read. He looked
up as his hoped-for client entered, and flushed redly in the
face with suppressed vexation as he saw that it was only a
working man after all " Some fellow wanting a debt col-
lected," he decided, pushing away his papers with a rather
irritated movement. However, in times when legal work
was so scarce, it did not serve any good purpose to show
anger, so, smoothing his ruffled brow, he forced a reluctantly
condescending smile, as his office-boy, having ushered in the
visitor, left the room.
" Good afternoon, my man ! " he said, with a patronising
air. " What can I do for you ? "
" Well, not so very much, sir," and Helmsley took off his
hat deferentially, standing in an attitude of humility. " It's
only a matter of making my Will, I've written it out my-
self, and if you would be so good as to see whether it is all
in order, I'm prepared to pay you for your trouble."
" Oh, certainly, certainly ! " Here Mr. Owlett took off,
his spectacles and polished them. " I suppose you know it's
not always a wise thing to draw up your own Will yourself ?
You should always let a lawyer draw it up for you."
" Yes, sir, I've heard that," answered Helmsley, with an
air of respectful attention " And that's why I've brought
the paper to you, for if there's anything wrong with it, you
can put it right, or draw it up again if you think proper.
Only I'd rather not be put to more expense than I can help."
" Just so ! " And the worthy solicitor sighed, as he real-
ised that there were no " pickings " to be made out of his
present visitor " Have you brought the document with
you
" Yes, sir ! " Helmsley fumbled in his pocket, and drew
out the paper with a well-assumed air of hesitation ; " I'm
leaving everything I've got to a woman who has been like a
daughter to me in my old age my wife and children are
dead and I've no one that has any blood claim on me so
I think the best thing I can do is to give everything I've got
to the one that's been kind to me in my need."
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 355
" Very right very proper ! " murmured Mr. Owlett, as
he took the offered document from Helmsley's hand and
opened it " Um um ! let me see ! " Here he
read aloud " I, David Helmsley, um um ! Helmsley
Helmsley ! that's a name that I seem to have heard some-
where ! David Helmsley ! yes ! why that's the name of a
multi-millionaire ! ha-ha-ha ! A multi-millionaire ! That's
curious! Do you know, my man, that your name is the
same as that of one of the richest men in the world ? "
Helmsley permitted himself to smile.
" Really, sir ? You don't say so ! "
" Yes, yes ! " And Mr. Owlett fixed his spectacles on
his nose and beamed at his humble client through them con-
descendingly " One of the richest men in the world ! "
And he smacked his lips as though he had just swallowed a
savoury morsel "Amazing! Now if you were he, your
Will would be a world's affair a positively world's affair ! "
" Would it indeed ? " And again Helmsley smiled.
" Everybody would talk of it," proceeded Owlett, lost in
rapturous musing " The disposal of a rich man's millions
is always a most interesting subject of conversation ! And
you actually didn't know you had such a rich namesake ? "
" No, sir, I did not."
" Ah well ! I suppose you live in the country, and people
in the country seldom hear of the names that are famous in
towns. Now let me consider this Will again ' I, David
Helmsley, being in sound health of mind and body, thanks
be to God, do make this to be my Last Will and Testament,
revoking all former Wills, Codicils and Testamentary Dis-
positions. First I commend my soul into the hands of God
my Creator, hoping and believing, through the merits of
Jesus Christ my Saviour, to be made partaker of life ever-
lasting ' Dear me, dear me ! " and Mr. Owlett took off his
spectacles. " You must be a very old-fashioned man ! This
sort of thing is not at all necessary nowadays ! "
" Not necessary, perhaps," said Helmsley gently " But
there is no harm in putting it in, sir, I hope? "
" Oh, there's no harm ! It doesn't affect the Will itself,
of course, but but it's odd it's unusual ! You see no-
body minds what becomes of your Soul, or your Body either
the only question of importance to any one is what is to
be done with your Money ! "
" I see ! " And Helmsley nodded his head and spoke with
356 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
perfect mildness " But I'm an old man, and I've lived long
enough to be fonder of old-fashioned ways than new, and I
should like, if you please, to let it be known that I died a
Christian, which is, to me, not a member of any particular
church or chapel, but just a Christian a man who faith-
fully believes in the teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ."
The attorney stared at him astonished, and moved by a
curious sense of shame. There was something both pathetic
and dignified in the aspect of this frail old " working man,"
who stood before him so respectfully with his venerable
white hair uncovered, and his eyes full of an earnest resolu-
tion which was not to be gainsaid. Coughing a cough of
nervous embarrassment, he again glanced at the document
before him.
" Of course," he said " if you wish it, there is not the
slightest objection to your making this this public state-
ment as to your religious convictions. It does not affect
the disposal of your worldly goods in any way. It used
yes, it used to be quite the ordinary way of beginning a
Last Will and Testament but we have got beyond any
special commendation of our souls to God, you know "
" Oh yes, I quite understand that," rejoined Helmsley.
" Present-day people like to think that God takes no interest
whatever in His own creation. It's a more comfortable doc-
trine to believe that He is indifferent rather than observant.
But, so far as I'm concerned, I don't go with the time."
" No, I see you don't, " and Mr. Owlett bent his attention
anew on the Will " And the religious preliminary being
quite unimportant, you shall have it your own way. Apart
from that, you've drawn it up quite correctly, and in very
good form. I suppose you understand that you have in this
Will left ' everything ' to the named legatee, Mary Deane,
spinster, that is to say, excluding no item whatsoever ? That
she becomes the possessor, in fact, of your whole estate ? "
Helmsley bent his head in assent.
" That is what I wish, sir, and I hope I have made it
clear."
" Yes, you have made it quite clear. There is no room for
discussion on any point. You wish us to witness your
signature ? "
" If you please, sir."
And he advanced to the bureau ready to sign. Mr.
Owlett rang a bell sharply twice. An angular man with a
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 357
youngish face and a very elderly manner answered the
summons.
" My confidential clerk," said Owlett, briefly introducing
him. " Here, Prindle ! I want you to be witness with me
to this gentleman's Will."
Prindle bowed, and passed his hand across his mouth to
hide a smile. Prindle was secretly amused to think that a
working man had anything to leave worth the trouble of
making a Will at all. Mr. Owlett dipped a pen in ink, and
handed it to his client. Whereat, Helmsley wrote his signa-
ture in a clear, bold, unfaltering hand. Mr. Owlett ap-
pended his own name, and then Prindle stepped up to sign.
As he saw the signature " David Helmsley," he paused and
seemed astonished. Mr. Owlett gave a short laugh.
" We know that name, don't we, Prindle? "
" Well, sir, I should say all the world knew it ! " replied
Prindle.
" All the world yes ! all except our friend here," said
Owlett, nodding towards Helmsley. " You didn't know, my
man, did you, that there was a multi-millionaire existing of
the same name as yourself ? "
" No, sir, I did not ! " answered Helmsley. " I hope he's
made his Will ! "
" I hope he has ! " laughed the attorney. " There'll be a
big haul for the Crown if he hasn't ! "
Prindle, meanwhile, was slowly writing " James George
Prindle, Clerk to the aforesaid Robert Owlett " underneath
his legal employer's signature.
" I should suggest," said Mr. Owlett, addressing David,
jocosely, " that you go and make yourself known to the rich
Mr. Helmsley as a namesake of his ! "
" Would you, sir ? And why ? "
" Well, he might be interested. Men as rich as he is
always want a new ' sensation ' to amuse them. And he
might, for all you know, make you a handsome present, or
leave you a little legacy ! "
Helmsley smiled he very nearly laughed. But he care-
fully guarded his equanimity.
" Thank you for the hint, sir ! I'll try and see him some
day!"
" I hear he's dead," said Prindle, finishing the signing of
his name and laying down his pen. " It was in the papers
some time back."
358 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" But it was contradicted," said Owlett quickly.
" Ah, but I think it was true all the same," and Prindle
shook his head obstinately. " The papers ought to know."
" Oh yes, they ought to know, but in nine cases out of ten
they don't know," declared Owlett. " And if you contradict
their lies, they're so savage at being put in the wrong that
they'll blazon the lies all the more rather than confess them.
That will do, Prindle ! You can go."
Prindle, aware that his employer was not a man to be
argued with, at once retired, and Owlett, folding up the
Will, handed it to Helmsley.
" That's all right," he said, " I suppose you want to take
it with you ? You can leave it with us if you like."
" Thank you, but I'd rather have it about me," Helmsley
answered. " You see I'm old and not very strong, and I
might die at any time. I'd like to keep my Will on my own
person."
" Well, take care of it, that's all," said the solicitor, smil-
ing at what he thought his client's rustic naivete. " No
matter how little you've got to leave, it's just as well it
should go where you want it to go without trouble or dif-
ficulty. And there's generally a quarrel over every Will."
" I hope there's no chance of any quarrel over mine," said
Helmsley, with a touch of anxiety.
" Oh no ! Not the least in the world ! Even if you were
as great a millionaire as the man who happens to bear the
same name as yourself, the Will would hold good."
" Thank you ! " And Helmsley placed on the lawyer's
desk more than his rightful fee, which that respectable per-
sonage accepted without any hesitation. " I'm very much
obliged to you. Good afternoon ! "
" Good afternoon ! " And Mr. Owlett leaned back in his
;chair, blandly surveying his visitor. " I suppose you quite
understand that, having made your legatee, Mary Deane,
your sole executrix likewise, you give her absolute control ? "
" Oh yes, I quite understand that ! " answered Helmsley.
" That is what I wish her to have the free and absolute
control of all I die possessed of."
" Then you may be quite easy in your mind," said the
lawyer. " You have made that perfectly clear."
Whereat Helmsley again said " Good afternoon," and
again Mr. Owlett briefly responded, sweeping the money
his client had paid him off his desk, and pocketing the same
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 359
with that resigned air of injured virtue which was his natu-
ral expression whenever he thought of how little good hard
cash a country solicitor could make in the space of twenty-
four hours. Helmsley, on leaving the office, returned at
once to his lodging under the shadow of the Cathedral and
resumed his own work, which was that of writing severel let-
ters to various persons connected with his financial affairs,
showing to each and all what a grip he held, even in absence,
on the various turns of the wheel of fortune, and dating all
his communications from Exeter, " at which interesting old
town I am making a brief stay," he wrote, for the satisfac-
tion of such curiosity as his correspondents might evince,
as well as for the silencing of all rumours respecting his sup-
posed death. Last of all he wrote to Sir Francis Vesey, as
follows :
" MY DEAR VESEY, On this day, in the good old city of
Exeter, I have done what you so often have asked me to do.
I have made my Will. It is drawn up entirely in my own
handwriting, and has been duly declared correct and valid
by a legal firm here, Messrs. Rowden and Owlett. Mr.
Owlett and Mr. Owlett's clerk were good enough to witness
my signature. I wish you to consider this communication
made to you in the most absolute confidence, and as I carry
the said document, namely my ' Last Will and Testament/
upon my person, it will not reach your hands till I am no
more. Then I trust you will see the business through with-
out unnecessary trouble or worry to the person who, by my
desire, will inherit all I have to leave.
" I have spent nearly a year of almost perfect happiness
away from London and all the haunts of London men, and
I have found what I sought, but what you probably doubted
I could ever find Love ! The treasures of earth I possess
and have seldom enjoyed but the treasure of Heaven,
that pure, disinterested, tender affection, which bears the
stress of poverty, sickness, and all other kindred ills, I
never had till now. And now the restless craving of my
soul is pacified. I am happy, moreover, I am perfectly at
ease as regards the disposal of my wealth when I am gone.
I know you will be glad to hear this, and that you will see
that my last wishes and instructions are faithfully carried
out in every respect that is, if I should die before I see you
again, which I hope may not be the case.
360 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" It is my present intention to return to London shortly,
and tell you personally the story of such adventures as have
chanced to me since I left Carlton House Terrace last July,
but ' man proposes, and God disposes,' and one can be cer-
tain of nothing. I need not ask you to keep all my affairs
going as if I myself were on the scene of action, and also to
inform the servants of my household to prepare for my
return, as I may be back in town any day. I must thank
you for your prompt and businesslike denial of the report
of my death, which I understand has been circulated by the
press. I am well as well as a man of my age can expect
to be, save for a troublesome heart-weakness, which threat-
ens a brief and easy ending to my career. But for this, I
should esteem myself stronger than some men who are still
young. And one of the strongest feelings in me at the
present moment (apart altogether from the deep affection
and devout gratitude I have towards the one who under my
Will is to inherit all I have spent my life to gain) is my
friendship for you, my dear Vesey, a friendship cemented
by the experience of years, and which I trust may always be
unbroken, even remaining in your mind as an unspoilt
memory after I am gone where all who are weary, long,
yet fear to go! Nevertheless, my faith is firm that the
seeming darkness of death will prove but the veil which
hides the light of a more perfect life, and I have learned,
through the purity of a great and unselfish human love, to
believe in the truth of the Love Divine. Your friend
always, DAVID HELMSLEY."
This letter finished, he went out and posted it with all the
others he had written, and then passed the evening in listen-
ing to the organist practising grave anthems and voluntaries
in the Cathedral. Every little item he could think of in his
business affairs was carefully gone over during the three
days he spent in Exeter, nothing was left undone that
could be so arranged as to leave his worldly concerns in per-
fect and unquestionable order and when, as " Mr. David,"
he paid his last daily score at the little Temperance hotel
where he had stayed since the Tuesday night, and started by
the early train of Saturday morning on his return to Mine-
head, he was at peace with himself and all men. True it
was that the making of his will had brought home to him
the fact that it was not the same thing as when, being in the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 361
prime of life, he had made it in favour of his two sons, who
were now dead, it was really and truly a final winding-up
of his temporal interests, and an admitted approach to the
verge of the Eternal, but he was not depressed by this
consciousness. On the contrary, a happy sense of perfect
calm pervaded his whole being, and as the train bore him
swiftly through the quiet, lovely land back to Minehead, that
sea-washed portal to the little village paradise which held
the good angel of his life, he silently thanked God that he
had done the work which he had started out to do, and that
he had been spared to return and look again into the be-
loved face of the one woman in all the world who had given
him a true affection without any " motive," or hope of re-
ward. And he murmured again his favourite lines:
" Let the sweet heavens endure,
Not close nor 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 ! "
" That is true ! " he said " And being ' quite, quite sure *
beyond all doubt, that I have found ' one to love me ' whose
love is of the truest, holiest and purest, what more can I ask
of Divine goodness ! "
And his face was full of the light of a heart's content and
peace, as the dimpled hill coast of Somerset came into view,
and the warm spring sunshine danced upon the sea.
CHAPTER XXI
ARRIVING at Minehead, Helmsley passed out of the station
unnoticed by any one, and made his way easily through the
sunny little town. He was soon able to secure a ." lift "
towards Weircombe in a baker's cart going half the way ; '
the rest of the distance he judged he could very well manage
to walk, albeit slowly. A fluttering sense of happiness, like
the scarcely suppressed excitement of a boy going home
from school for the holidays, made him feel almost agile on
his feet, if he had only had a trifle more strength he
thought he could have run the length of every mile stretch-
ing between him and the dear cottage in the coombe, which
had now become the central interest of his life. The air
was so pure, the sun so bright the spring foliage was so
fresh and green, the birds sang so joyously all nature
seemed to be in such perfect tune with the deep ease and
satisfaction of his own soul, that every breath he took was
more or less of a thanksgiving to God for having been
spared to enjoy the beauty of such halcyon hours. By the
willing away of all his millions to one whom he knew to
be of a pure, noble, and incorruptible nature, a great load
had been lifted from his mind, he had done with world's
work ior ever ; and by some inexplicable yet divine compen-
sation it seemed as though the true meaning of the life to
come had been suddenly disclosed to him, and that he was
allowed to realise for the first time not only the possibility,
but the certainty, that Death is not an End, but a new Be-
ginning. And he felt himself to be a free man, free of all
earthly confusion and worry free to recommence another
cycle of nobler work in a higher and wider sphere of action.
And he argued with himself thus :
" A man is born into this world without his own knowl-
edge or consent. Yet he finds himself also without his
own knowledge or consent surrounded by natural beauty
and perfect order he finds nothing in the planet which can
be accounted valueless he learns that even a grain of dust
has its appointed use, and that not a sparrow shall fall to the
ground without ' Our Father.' Everything is ready to his
hand to minister to his reasonable wants and it is only
362
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 363
when he misinterprets the mystic meaning of life, and puts
God aside as an ' unknown quantity/ that things go wrong.
His mission is that of progress and advancement but not
progress and advancement in base material needs and pleas-
ures, the progress and advancement required of him is
primarily spiritual. For the spiritual, or Mind, is the only
Real. Matter is merely the husk in which the seed of Spirit
is enclosed and Man's mistake is always that he attaches
himself to the perishable husk instead of the ever germinat-
ing seed. He advances, but advances wrongly, and there-
fore has to go back upon his steps. He progresses in what
he calls civilisation, which so long as it is purely self-ag-
grandisement, is but a common circle, bringing him back
in due course to primitive savagery. Now I, for example,
started in life to make money I made it, and it brought
me power, which I thought progress; but now, at the end
of my tether, I see plainly that I have done no good in my
career save such good as will come from my having placed
all my foolish gainings under the control of a nature simpler
and therefore stronger than my own. And I, leaving my
dross behind me, must go forward and begin again spiritu-
ally the wiser for my experience of this world, which may
help me better to understand the next."
Thus he mused, as he slowly trudged along under the
bright and burning sun happy enough in his thoughts
except that now and then a curious touch of foreboding fear
came over him as to whether anything ill had happened to
Mary in his absence.
" For one never knows ! " and a faint shudder came over
him as he remembered Tom o' the Gleam, and the cruel,
uncalled-for death of his child, the only human creature left
to him in the world to care for. " One can never tell,
whether in the scheme of creation there is such a being as
a devil, who takes joy in running counter to the beneficent
intentions of the Creator! Light exists and Darkness.
Good seems co-equal with Evil. It is all mystery! Now,
suppose Mary were to die? Suppose she were, at this very
moment, dead ? "
Such a horror came over him as this idea presented itself
to his mind that he trembled from head to foot, and his brain
grew dizzy. He had walked for a longer time than he
knew since the cart in which he had ridden part of the way
had left him at about four miles away from Weircombe, and
364 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
he felt that he must sit down on the road-side and rest for a
bit before going- further. How cruel, how fiendish it would
be, he continued to imagine, if Mary were dead ! It would
be devil's work ! and he would have no more faith in God !
He would have lost his last hope, and he would fall -into
the grave a despairing atheist and blasphemer! Why, if
Mary were dead, then the world was a snare, and heaven a
delusion! truth a trick, and goodness a lie! Then was
all the past, the present, and future hanging for him like a
jewel on the finger of one woman? He was bound to admit
that it was so. He was also bound to admit that all the past,
present, and future had, for poor Tom o' the Gleam, been
centred in one little child. And God? no, not God but
a devil, using as his tools devilish men, had killed that
child! Then, might not that devil kill Mary? His head
swam, and a sickening sense of bafflement and incompetency
came over him. He had made his will, that was true !
but who could guarantee that she whom he had chosen as
his heiress would live to inherit his wealth ?
" I wish I did not think of such horrible things ! " he said
wearily " Or I wish I could walk faster, and get home
home to the little cottage quickly, and see for myself that
she is safe and well ! "
Sitting among the long grass and field flowers by the
road-side, he grasped his stick in one hand and leaned his
head upon that support, closing his eyes in sheer fatigue and
despondency. Suddenly a sound startled him, and he strug-
gled to his feet, his eyes shining with an intent and eager
look. That clear, tender voice! that quick, sweet cry!
"David!"
He listened with a vague and dreamy sense of pleasure.
The soft patter of feet across the grass the swish of a
dress against the leaves, and then then why, here was
Mary herself, one tress of her lovely hair tumbling loose in
the sun, her eyes bright and her cheeks crimson with
running.
" Oh, David, dear old David ! Here you are at last !
Why did you go away! We have missed you dreadfully!
David, you look so tired! where have you been? Angus
and I have been waiting for you ever so long, you said in
your letter you would be back by Sunday, and we thought
you would likely choose to-day to come oh, David? you
are quite worn out ! Don't don't give way ! "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 365
For with the longed-for sight of her, the world's multi-
millionaire had become only a weak, over-wrought old man,
and his tired heart had leaped in his breast with quite a poor
and common human joy which brought the tears falling
from his eyes despite himself. She was beside him in a
moment, her arm thrown affectionately about his shoulders,
and her sweet face turned up close to his, all aglow with
sympathy and tenderness.
" Why did you leave us ? " she went on with a gentle play-
fulness, though the tears were in her own eyes. " Whatever
made you think of getting work out of Weircombe? Oh,
you dissatisfied old boy ! I thought you were quite happy
with me ! "
He took her hand and held it a moment, then pressed it to
his lips.
" Happy ! " he murmured. " My dear, I was too happy !
and I felt that I owed you too much ! I went away for a
bit just to see if I could do something for you more profitable
than basket-making "
Mary nodded her head at him in wise-like fashion, just
as if he were a spoilt child.
" I daresay you did ! " she said, smiling. " And what's
the end of it all, eh ? "
He looked at her, and in the brightness of her smile,
smiled also.
" Well, the end of it all is that I've come back to you in
exactly the same condition in which I went away," he said.
" No richer, no poorer! I've got nothing to do. Nobody
wants old people on their hands nowadays. It's a rough
time of the world ! "
" You'll always find the world rough on you if you turn
your back on those that love you ! " she said.
He lifted his head and gazed at her with such a pained and
piteous appeal, that her heart smote her. He looked so very
ill, and his worn face with the snow-white hair ruffled about
it, was so pallid and thin.
" God forbid that I should do that ! " he murmured
tremulously. " God forbid ! Mary, you don't think I
would ever do that ? "
" No of course not ! " she answered soothingly. " Be-
cause you see, you've come back again. But if you had
gone away altogether "
" You'd have thought me an ungrateful, worthless old
S66 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
rascal, wouldn't you ? " And the smile again sparkled in his
dim eyes. " And you and Angus Reay would have said
' Well, never mind him ! He served one useful purpose at
any rate he brought us together ! ' '
" Now, David ! " said Mary, holding up a warning finger,
" You know we shouldn't have talked in such a way of you
at all ! Even if you had never come back, we should always
have thought of you kindly and I should have always
loved you and prayed for you ! "
He was silent, mentally pulling himself together. Then
he put his arm gently through hers.
" Let us go home," he said. " I can walk now. Are we
far from the coombe ? "
" Not ten minutes off," she answered, glad to see him
more cheerful and alert. " By the short cut it's just over
the brow of the hill. Will you come that way ? "
" Any way you like to take me," and leaning on her arm
he walked bravely on. " Where is Angus ? "
" I left him sitting under a tree at the top of the coombe
near the Church," she replied. " He was busy with his
writing, and I told him I would just run across the hill and
see if you were coming. I had a sort of fancy you would
be tramping home this morning ! And where have you been
all these days ? "
" A good way," he answered evasively. " I'm rather a
slow walker.",
" I should think you were ! " and she laughed good-
humouredly. " You must have been pretty near us all the
while ! "
He made no answer, and together they paced slowly
across the grass, sweet with the mixed perfume of thousands
of tiny close-growing herbs and flowers which clung in
unseen clumps to the soil. All at once the quaint little tower
of Weircombe Church thrust its ivy-covered summit above
the edge of the green slope which they were ascending,
and another few steps showed the glittering reaches of the
sunlit sea. Helmsley paused, and drew a deep breath.
" I am thankful to see it all again ! " he said.
She waited, while leaning heavily on her arm he scanned
the whole fair landscape with a look of eager love and
longing. She saw that he was very tired and exhausted,
and wondered what he had been doing with himself in his
days of absence from her care, but she had too much deli-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 367
cacy and feeling for him to ask him any questions. And
she was glad when a cheery " Hillo ! " echoed over the
hill and Angus appeared, striding across the grass and
waving his cap in quite a jubilant fashion. As soon as
he saw them plainly he exchanged his stride for a run and
came up to them in a couple of minutes.
" Why, David ! " he exclaimed. " How are you, old
boy? Welcome back! So Mary is right as usual! She
said she was sure you would be home to-day ! "
Helmsley could not speak. He merely returned the pres-
sure of Reay's warm, strong hand with all the friendly
fervour of which he was capable. A glance from Mary's
eyes warned Angus that the old man was sorely tired and
he at once offered him his arm.
" Lean on me, David," he said. " Strong as bonnie Mary
is, I'm just a bit stronger. We'll be across the brae in no
time ! Charlie's at home keeping house ! "
He laughed, and Helmsley smiled.
" Poor wee Charlie ! " he said. " Did he miss me ? '*
" That he did ! " answered Mary. " He's been quite lone-
some, and not contented at all with only me. Every morn-
ing and every night he went into your room looking for
you, and whined so pitifully at not finding you that I had
quite a trouble to comfort him."
" More tender-hearted than many a human so-called
' friend ' ! " murmured Helmsley.
" Why yes, of course ! " said Reay. " There's nothing
more faithful on earth than a faithful dog except " and
he smiled " a faithful husband ! "
Mary laughed.
"Or a faithful wife which?" she playfully demanded.
" How does the old rhyme go
' A wife, a dog, and a walnut tree,
The more you beat 'em, the better they be ! '
Are you going to try that system when we are married,
Angus?"
She laughed again, and without waiting for an answer,
ran on a little in front, in order to be first across the natural
bridge which separated them from the opposite side of
the " coombe," and from the spot where the big chestnut-
tree waved its fan-like green leaves and plumes of pinky
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
white blossom over her garden gate. Another few steps,
made easily with the support of Reay's strong arm, and
Helmsley found himself again in the simple little raftered
cottage kitchen, with Charlie tearing madly round and
round him in ecstasy, uttering short yelps of joy. Some-
thing struggled in his throat for utterance, it seemed ages
since he had last seen this little abode of peace and sweet
content, and a curious impression was in his mind of hav-
ing left one identity here to take up another less pleasing
one elsewhere. A deep, unspeakable gratitude overwhelmed
him, he felt to the full the sympathetic environment of
love, that indescribable sense of security which satisfies
the heart when it knows it is " dear to some one else."
" If I be dear to some one else,
Then I should be to myself more dear."
For there is nothing in the whole strange symphony of
human life, with its concordances and dissonances, that
strikes out such a chord of perfect music as the conscious-
ness of love. To feel that there is one at least in the
world to whom you are more dear than to any other living
being, is the very centralisation of life and the mainspring
of action. For that one you will work and plan, for
that one you will seek to be noble and above the average
in your motives and character for that one you will,
despite a multitude of drawbacks, agree to live. But with-
out this melodious note in the chorus all the singing is in
vain.
Led to his accustomed chair by the hearth, Helmsley
sank into it restfully, and closed his eyes. He was so
thoroughly tired out mentally and physically with the strain
he had put upon himself in undertaking his journey, as
well as in getting through the business he had set out to do,
that he was only conscious of a great desire to sleep. So
that when he shut his eyes for a moment, as he thought,
he was quite unaware that he fell into a dead faint and so
remained for nearly half an hour. When he came to him-
self again, Mary was kneeling beside him with a very pale
face, and Angus was standing quite close to him, while no
less a personage than Mr. Bunce was holding his hand and
feeling his pulse.
" Better now ? " said Mr. Bunce, in a voice of encourag-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 369
ing mildness. " We have done too much. We have walked
too far. We must rest."
Helmsley smiled the little group of three around him
looked so troubled, while he himself felt nothing unusual.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "I'm all right quite
all right. Only just a little tired ! "
" Exactly ! " And Mr. Bunce nodded profoundly.
" Just a little tired ! We have taken a very unnecessary
journey away from our friends, and we are suffering for
it ! We must now be very good ; we must stay at home and
keep quiet ! "
Helmsley looked from one to the other questioningly.
" Do you think I'm ill ? " he asked. " I'm not, really ! I
feel very well."
" That's all right, David, dear ! " said Mary, patting his
hand. " But you are tired you know you are ! "
His eyes rested on her fondly.
" Yes, I'm tired," he confessed. " But that's nothing."
He waited a minute, looking at them all. " That's nothing !
Is it, Mr. Bunce ? "
" When w.e are young it is nothing," replied Mr. Bunce
cautiously. " But when we are old, we must be careful ! "
Helmsley smiled.
" Shake hands, Bunce ! " he said, suiting the action to
the word. " I'll obey your orders, never fear ! I'll sit
quiet ! "
And he showed so much cheerfulness, and chatted with
them all so brightly, that, for the time, anxiety was dis-
pelled. Mr. Bunce took his departure promptly, only paus-
ing at the garden gate to give a hint to Angus Reay.
" He will require the greatest care. Don't alarm Miss
Deane but his heart was always weak, and it has grown
perceptibly weaker. He needs complete repose."
Angus returned to the cottage somewhat depressed after
this, and from that moment Helmsley found himself sur-
rounded with evidences of tender forethought for his com-
fort such as no rich man could ever obtain for mere cash
payment. The finest medical skill and the best trained
nursing are, we know, to be had for money, but the sooth-
ing touch of love, the wordless sympathy which manifests
itself in all the looks and movements of those by whom a
life is really and truly held precious these are neither to
be bought nor sold. And David Helmsley in his assumed
370 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
character of a man too old and too poor to have any so-
called " useful " friends a mere wayfarer on the road,
apparently without a home, or any prospect of obtaining
one, had, by the simplest, yet strangest chance in the
world, found an affection such as he had never in his most
successful and most brilliant days been able to win. He
upon whom the society women of London and Paris had
looked with greedy and speculative eyes, wondering how
much they could manage to get out of him, was now being
cared for by one simple-hearted sincere woman, who had
no other motive for her affectionate solicitude save gentlest
compassion and kindness ; he whom crafty kings had in-
vited to dine with them because of his enormous wealth,
and because is was possible that, for the " honour " of
sitting at the same table with them he might tide them over
a financial difficulty, was now tended with more than the
duty and watchfulness of a son in the person of a poor
journalist, kicked out of employment for telling the public
certain important facts concerning financial " deals " on
the part of persons of influence a journalist, who for this
very cause was likely never more to be a journalist, but
rather a fighter against bitter storm and stress, for the fair
wind of popular favour, that being generally the true posi-
tion of any independent author who has something new and
out of the common to say to the world. Angus Reay, work-
ing steadily and hopefully on his gradually diminishing
little stock of money, with all his energies bent on cutting
a diamond of success out of the savagely hard rock of
human circumstance, was more filial in his respect and
thought for Helmsley than either of Helmsley's own sons
had been ; while his character was as far above the charac-
ters of those two ne'er-do-weel sprouts of their mother's
treachery as light is above darkness. And the multi-million-
aire was well content to rest in the little cottage where he
had found a real home, watching the quiet course of events,
and waiting waiting for something which he found him-
Self disposed to expect a something to which he could not
'give a name.
There was quite a little rejoicing in the village of Weir-
combe when it was known he had returned from his brief
wanderings, and there was also a good deal of commisera-
tion expressed for him when it was known that he was
somewhat weakened in physical health by his efforts to find
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 371
more paying work. Many of the children with whom he
was a favourite came up to see him, bringing little knots
of flowers, or curious trophies of weed and shells from
the sea-shore and now that the weather was settled fine
and warm, he became accustomed to sit in his chair outside
the cottage door in the garden, with the old sweet-briar bush
shedding perfume around him, and a clambering rose break-
ing into voluptuous creamy pink blossom above his head.
Here he would pursue his occupation of basket-making,
and most of the villagers made it their habit to pass up and
down at least once or twice a day in their turns, to see
how he fared, or, as they themselves expressed it, "to
keep old David going." His frail bent figure, his thin, in-
tellectual face, with its composed expression of peace and
resignation, his soft white hair, and his slow yet ever
patiently working hands, made up a picture which, set in
the delicate framework of leaf and blossom, was one to
impress the imagination and haunt the memory. Mr. and
Mrs. Twitt were constant visitors, and many were the
would-be jocose remarks of the old stone-mason on David's
temporary truancy.
" Wanted more work, did ye ? " And thrusting his hands
deep in the pockets of his corduroys, Twitt looked at him
with a whimsical complacency. " Well, why didn't ye come
down to the stoneyard an' learn 'ow to cut a hepitaph?
Nice chippy, easy work in its way, an' no 'arm in yer sittin'
down to it. Why didn't ye, eh ? "
" I've never had enough education for such work as that,
Mr. Twitt," answered David mildly, with something of a
humorous sparkle in his eyes. " I'm afraid I should spoil
more than I could pay for. You want an artist not an
untrained clumsy old fellow like me."
" Oh, blow artists ! " said Mr. Twitt irreverently. " They
talks a lot they talks yer 'ed off but they doos onny 'arf
the labour as they spends in waggin' their tongues. An'
for a hepitaph, they none of 'em aint got an idee. It's
allus Scripter texes with 'em, they aint got no 'riginality.
Now I'm a reg'lar Scripter reader, an' nowheres do I find
it writ as we're to use the words o' God Himself to carve
on tombstones for our speshul convenience, cos we aint
no notions o' feelin' an' respect of our own. But artists
can't think o' nothin', an' I never cares to employ 'em. Yet
for all that there's not a sweeter, pruttier place than our
372 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
little cemetery nowheres in all the world. There aint no
tyranny in it, an' no pettifoggin' interference. Why, there's
places in England where ye can't put what ye likes over
the grave o' yer dead friends ! ye've got to ' submit ' yer
idee to the parzon, or wot's worse, the Corporation, if ser
be yer last go-to-bed place is near a town. There's a town
I know of," and here Mr. Twitt began to laugh, " wheer
ye can't 'ave a moniment put up to your dead folk without
' subjectin' ' the design to the Town Council an' we all
knows the fine taste o' Town Councils ! They'se ' artists,'
an' no mistake! I've got the rules of the cemetery of that
town for my own eddification. They runs like this "
And drawing a paper from his pocket, he read as follows :
" ' All gravestones, monuments, tombs, tablets, memorials,
palisades, curbs, and inscriptions shall be subject to the
approval of the Town Council; and a drawing, showing
the form, materials, and dimensions of every gravestone,
monument, tomb, tablet, memorial, palisades, or curb pro-
posed to be erected or fixed, together with a copy of the
inscription intended to be cut thereon (if any), on the form
provided by the Town Council, must be left at the office
of the Clerk at least ten days before the first Tuesday in
any month. The Town Council reserve to themselves the
right to remove or prevent the erection of any monument,
tomb, tablet, memorial, etc., which shall not have previously
received their sanction.' There! What d' ye think of
that?"
Helmsley had listened in astonishment.
" Think ? I think it is monstrous ! " he said, with some
indignation. " Such a Town Council as that is a sort of
many-headed tyrant, resolved to persecute the unhappy
townspeople into their very graves ! "
" Right y' are ! " said Twitt. " But there's a many on
'em ! An' ye may thank yer stars ye're not anywheres
under 'em. Now when you goes the way o' all flesh "
He paused, suddenly embarrassed, and conscious that
he had perhaps touched on a sore subject. But Helmsley
reassured him.
" Yes, Twitt ? Don't stop ! what then ? "
"Why, then," said Twitt, almost tenderly, "ye'll 'ave
our good old parzon to see ye properly tucked under a
daisy quilt, an' wotever ye wants put on yer tomb, or wot-
ever's writ on it, can be yer own desire, if ye'll think about
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 373
it afore ye goes. An' there'll be no expense at all for
I tell ye just the truth I've grown to like ye that well that
I'll carve ye the pruttiest little tombstone ye ever seed for
nothin' ! "
Helmsley smiled.
" Well, I shan't be able to thank you then, Mr. Twitt,
so I thank you now," he said. " You know a good deed is
always rewarded, if not in this world, then in the next."
" I b'leeve that," rejoined Twitt ; " I b'leeve it true.
And though I know Mis' Deane is that straight an' 'onest,
she'd see ye properly mementoed an' paid for, I wouldn't
take a penny from 'er not on account of a kindly old
gaffer like yerself. I'd do it all friendly."
" Of course you would ! " and Helmsley shook his hand
heartily ; " And of course you will! "
This, and many other conversations he had with Twitt
and a certain few of the villagers, showed him that the
little community of Weircombe evidently thought of him
as being not long for this world. He accepted the position
quietly, and passed day after day peacefully enough, with- ,
out feeling any particular illness, save a great weakness
in his limbs. He was in himself particularly happy, for
Mary was always with him, and Angus passed every even-
ing with them both. Another great pleasure, too, he found
in the occasional and entirely unobtrusive visits of the par-
son of the little parish a weak and ailing man physically,
but in soul and intellect exceptionally strong. As different
from the Reverend Mr. Arbroath as an old-time Crusader
would be from a modern jockey, he recognised the sacred
character of his mission as an ordained minister of Christ,
and performed that mission simply and faithfully. He
would sit by Helmsley's chair of a summer afternoon and
talk with him as friend to friend it made no differ-
ence to him that to all appearances the old man was poor
and dependent on Mary Deane's bounty, and that his for-
mer life was, to him, the clergyman, a sealed book; he was
there to cheer and to comfort, not to inquire, reproach, or
condemn. He was the cheeriest of companions, and the
most hopeful of believers.
" If all clergymen were like you, sir," said Helmsley to
him one day, " there would be no atheists ! "
The good man reddened at the compliment, as though
he had been accused of a crime.
374 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" You think too kindly of my efforts," he said gently. " I
only speak to you as I would wish others to speak to me."
" ' For this is the Law and the Prophets ! ' " murmured
Helmsley.' " Sir, will you tell me one thing are there many
poor people in Weircombe ? "
The clergyman looked a trifle surprised.
" Why, yes, to tell the exact truth, they are all poor peo-
ple in Weircombe," he answered. " You see, it is really
only a little fishing village. The rich people's places are
situated all about it, here and there at various miles
of distance, but no one with money lives in Weircombe
itself."
" Yet every one seems happy," said Helmsley thoughtfully.
" Oh, yes, every one not only seems, but is happy ! "
and the clergyman smiled. " They have the ordinary trou-
bles that fall to the common lot, of course but they are
none of them discontented. There's very little drunkenness,
and as a consequence, very little quarrelling. They are a
good set of people typically English of England ! "
" If some millionaire were to leave every man, woman,
and child a thousand or more pounds apiece, I wonder what
would happen ? " suggested Helmsley.
" Their joy would be turned to misery ! " said the clergy-
man " and their little heaven would become a hell ! For-
tunately for them, such a disaster is not likely to happen ! "
Helmsley was silent; and after his kindly visitor had
left him that day sat for a long time absorbed in thought,
his hands resting idly on the osiers which he was gradually
becoming too weak to bend.
It was now wearing on towards the middle of June, and
on one fine morning when Mary was carefully spreading
out on a mending-frame a wonderful old flounce of price-
less point d'Alengon lace, preparatory to examining the
numerous repairs it needed, Helmsley turned towards her
abruptly with the question
" When are you and Angus going to be married, my
dear?"
Mary smiled, and the soft colour flew over her face at
the suggestion.
" Oh, not for a long time yet, David ! " she replied.
"Angus has not yet finished his book, and even when it
is all done, he has to get it published. He won't have tfar
banns put up till the book is accepted."
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 375
" Won't he ? " And Helmsley's eyes grew very wistful.
"Why not?"
" Well, it's for quite a good reason, after all," she said.
" He wants to feel perfectly independent. You see, if he
could get even a hundred pounds down for his book he
would be richer than I am, and it would be all right. He'd
never marry me with nothing at all of his own."
" Yet you would marry him ? "
" I'm not sure that I would," and she lifted her hand
with a prettily proud gesture. " You see, David, I really
love him! And my love is too strong and deep for me to
be so selfish as to wish to drag him down. I wouldn't
have him lower his own self-respect for the world ! "
" Love is greater than self-respect ! " said Helmsley.
" Oh, David ! You know better than that ! There's no
love without self-respect no real love, I mean. There
are certain kinds of stupid fancies called love but they've
no ' wear ' in them ! " and she laughed. " They wouldn't
last a month, let alone a lifetime ! "
He sighed a little, and his lips trembled nervously.
" I'm afraid, my dear, I'm afraid I shall not live to see
you married ! " he said.
She left her lace frame and came to his side.
" Don't say that, David ! You mustn't think it for a
moment. You're much better than you were even Mr.
Bunce says so ! "
" Even Mr. Bunce ! " And he took her hand in his own
and studied its smooth whiteness and beautiful shape at-
tentively anon he patted it tenderly. " You have a pretty
hand, Mary ! It's a rare beauty ! "
" Is it ? " And she looked at her rosy palm meditatively.
" I've never thought much about it but I've noticed that
Angus and you both have nice hands."
" Especially Angus ! " said Helmsley, with a smile.
Her face reflected the smile.
" Yes. Especially Angus ! "
After this little conversation Helmsley was very quiet
and thoughtful. Often indeed he sat with eyes closed, pre-
tending to sleep, in order inwardly to meditate on the plans
he had most at heart. He saw no reason to alter them,
though the idea presented itself once or twice as to whether
he should not reveal his actual identity to the clergyman
who visited him so often, and who was, apart from his
S76 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
sacred calling, not only a thinking, feeling, humane creature,
but a very perfect gentleman. But on due reflection he
saw that this might possibly lead to awkward complications,
so he still resolved to pursue the safer policy of silence.
One evening, when Angus Reay had come in as usual to
sit awhile and chat with him before he went to bed, he
could hardly control a slight nervous start when Reay ob-
served casually
" By the way, David, that old millionaire I told you
about, Helmsley, isn't dead after all ! "
" Oh isn't he ? " And Helmsley feigned to be affected
with a troublesome cough which necessitated his looking
away for a minute. " Has he turned up ? "
" Yes he's turned up. That is to say, that he's expected
back in town for the ' season,' as the Cooing Column of
the paper says."
" Why, what's the Cooing Column ? " asked Mary, laugh-
ing.
" The fashionable intelligence corner," answered Angus,
joining in her laughter. " I call it the Cooing Column, be-
cause it's the place where all the doves of society, soiled
and clean, get their little grain of personal advertisement.
They pay for it, of course. There it is that the disreputable
Mrs. Mushroom Ketchup gets it announced that she wore a
collar of diamonds at the Opera, and there the battered, dis-
sipated Lord ' Jimmy ' Jenkins has it proudly stated that his
yacht is undergoing ' extensive alterations.' Who in the real
work-a-day, sane world cares a button whether his lordship
Jenkins sails in his yacht or sinks in it ! And Mrs. Mush-
room Ketchup's diamonds are only so much fresh fuel piled
on the burning anguish of starving and suffering men,
anguish which results in anarchy. Any number of anar-
chists are bred from the Cooing Column ! "
"What would you have rich men do?" asked Helmsley
suddenly. " If all their business turns out much more suc-
cessfully than they have ever expected, and they make
millions almost despite their own desire, what would you
have them do with their wealth ? "
Angus thought a moment.
" It would be difficult to advise," he said at last. " For
one thing I would not have them pauperise two of the finest
things in this world and the best worth fighting for
Education and Literature. The man who has no struggle
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 377
at all to get himself educated is only half a man. And
literature which is handed to the people free of cost is
shamed by being put at a lower level than beer and pota-
toes, for which every man has to pay. Andrew Carnegie
I look upon as one of the world's big meddlers. A ' cute '
meddler too, for he takes care to do nothing that hasn't
got his name tacked on to it. However, I'm in great hopes
that his pauperising of Scottish University education may in
time wear itself out, and that Scotsmen will be sufficiently
true to the spirit of Robert Burns to stick to the busi-
ness of working and paying for what they get. I hate all
things that are given gratis. There's always a smack of
the advertising agent about them. God Himself gives noth-
ing ' free ' you've got to pay with your very life for each
gulp of air you breathe, and rightly too ! And if you try
to get something out of His creation without paying for
it, the bill is presented in due course with compound
interest ! "
" I agree with you," said Helmsley. " But what, then,
of the poor rich men? You don't approve of Carnegie's
methods of disbursing wealth; What would you sug-
gest?"
" The doing of private good," replied Angus promptly.
" Good that is never heard of, never talked of, never men-
tioned in the Cooing Column. A rich man could perform
acts of the most heavenly and helpful kindness if he would
only go about personally and privately among the very
poor, make friends with them, and himself assist them. But
he will hardly ever do this. Now the millionaire who is
going to marry my first love, Lucy Sorrel "
" Oh, is he going to marry her? " And Helmsley looked
up with sudden interest.
" Well, I suppose he is ! " And Angus threw back his
head and laughed. " He's to be back in town for the
' season ' and you know what the London ' season ' is ! "
" I'm sure we don't ! " said Mary, with an amused glance.
"Tell us!"
" An endless round of lunches, dinners, balls, operas,
theatres, card-parties, and inane jabber," he answered. " A
mixture of various kinds of food which people eat reck-
lessly with the natural results, dyspepsia, inertia, mental
vacuity, and general uselessness. A few Court ' functions,'
some picture shows, and two or three great races and
378 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
that's all. Some unfortunate marriages are usually the
result of each year's motley."
" And you think the millionaire you speak of will be one
of the unfortunate ones ? " said Helmsley.
" Yes, David, I do ! If he's going back to London for
the season, Lucy Sorrel will never let him out of her sight
again! She's made up her mind to be a Mrs. Millionaire,
and she's not troubled by any over-sensitiveness or delicacy
of sentiment."
" That I quite believe from what you have told me,"
and Helmsley smiled. " But what do the papers what
does the Cooing Column say ? "
" The Cooing Column says that one of the world's great-
est millionaires, Mr. David Helmsley, who has been abroad
for nearly a year for the benefit of his health, will return
to his mansion in Carlton House Terrace this month for
the ' season.' "
"Is that all?"
" That's all. Mary, my bonnie Mary," and Angus put
an arm tenderly round the waist of his promised wife
" Your husband may, perhaps only perhaps ! become fa-
mous but you'll never, never be a Mrs. Millionaire ! "
She laughed and blushed as he kissed her.
" I don't want ever to be rich," she said. " I'd rather
be poor ! "
They went out into the little garden then, with their arms
entwined, and Helmsley, seated in his chair under the
rose-covered porch, watched them half in gladness, half in
trouble. Was he doing well for them, he wondered? Or
ill? Would the possession of wealth disturb the idyll of
their contented lives, their perfect love? Almost he wished
that he really were in very truth the forlorn and homeless
wayfarer he had assumed to be, wholly and irrevocably
poor!
That night in his little room, when everything was quiet,
and Mary was soundly sleeping in the attic above him,
he rose quietly from his bed, and lighting a candle, took
pen and ink and made a few additions to the letter of in-
structions which accompanied his will. Some evenings pre-
viously, when Mary and Angus had gone out for a walk
together, he had taken the opportunity to disburden his
" workman's coat " of all the banknotes contained in the
lining, and, folding them up in one parcel, had put them
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 379
in a sealed envelope, which envelope he marked in a certain
fashion, enclosing it in the larger envelope which contained
his will. In the same way he made a small, neatly sealed
packet of the " collection " made for him at the " Trusty
Man " by poor Tom o' the Gleam, marking that also. Now,
on this particular night, feeling that he had done all he
could think of to make business matters fairly easy to deal
with, he packed up everything in one parcel, which he tied
with a string and sealed securely, addressing it to Sir
Francis Vesey. This parcel he again enclosed in another,
equally tied up and sealed, the outer wrapper of which he
addressed to one John Bulteel at certain offices in London,
which were in truth the offices of Vesey and Symonds,
Bulteel being their confidential clerk. The fact that Angus
Reay knew the name of the firm which had been mentioned
in the papers as connected with the famous millionaire,
David Helmsley, caused him to avoid inscribing it on the
packet which would have to be taken to its destination im-
mediately after his death. As he had now arranged things,
it would be conveyed to the office unsuspectingly, and
Bulteel, opening the first wrapper, would see that the con-
tents were for Sir Francis, and would take them to him at
once. Locking the packet in the little cupboard in the wall
which Mary had given him, as she playfully said, " to keep
his treasures in " he threw himself again on his bed, and,
thoroughly exhausted, tried to sleep.
" It will be all right, I think ! " he murmured to himself,
as he closed his eyes wearily " At any rate, so far as I
am concerned, I have done with the world ! God grant
some good may come of my millions after I am dead ! After
I am dead ! How strange it sounds ! What will it seem like,
I wonder, to be dead ? "
And he suddenly thought of a poem he had read some
years back, one of the finest and most daring thoughts ever
expressed in verse, from the pen of a fine and much neg-
lected poet, Robert Buchanan:
" Master, if there be Doom,
All men are bereaven !
If in the Universe
One Spirit receive the curse,
Alas for Heaven!
If there be Doom for one,
Thou, Master, art undone !
380 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN,
"Were I a Soul in Heaven,
Afar from pain;
Yea, on thy breast of snow,
At the scream of one below,
I should scream again
Art Thou less piteous than
The conception of a Man?"
" No, no, not less piteous ! " he murmured " But surely
infinitely more pitiful ! "
CHAPTER XXII
AND now there came a wondrous week of perfect weather.
All the lovely Somersetshire coast lay under the warmth
and brilliance of a dazzling sun, the sea was smooth,
and small sailing skiffs danced merrily up and down from
Minehead to Weircombe and back again with the ease and
security of seabirds, whose happiest resting-place is on the
Waves. A lovely calm environed the little village, it was
not a haunt of cheap " trippers," and summer-time was
not only a working-time, but a playing time too with all
the inhabitants, both young and old. The shore, with its
fine golden sand, warm with the warmth of the cloudless
sky, was a popular resort, and Helmsley, though his phys-
ical weakness perceptibly increased, was often able to go
down there, assisted by Mary and Angus, one on each side
supporting him and guarding his movements. It pleased
him to sit under the shelter of the rocks and watch the long
shining ripples of ocean roll forwards and backwards on
the shore in silvery lines, edged with delicate, lace-like
fringes of foam, and the slow, monotonous murmur of
the gathering and dispersing water soothed his nerves and
hushed a certain inward fretfulness of spirit which teased
him now and then, but to which he bravely strove not to
give way. Sometimes but only sometimes he felt that it
was hard to die. Hard to be old just as he was beginning
to learn how to live, hard to pass out of the beauty and
wonder of this present life with all its best joys scarcely ex-
perienced, and exchange the consciousness of what little
he knew for something concerning which no one could
honestly give him any authentic information.
" Yet I might have said the same, had I been conscious,
before I was born ! " he thought. " In a former state of
existence I might have said, ' Why send me from this that
I know and enjoy, to something which I have not seen and
therefore cannot believe in ? ' Perhaps, for all I can tell,
I did say it. And yet God had His way with me and placed
me here for what? Only to learn a lesson! That is
truly all I have done. For the making of money is as
381
382 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
nothing in the sight of Eternal Law, it is merely man's
accumulation of perishable matter, which, like all perishable
things, is swept away in due course, while he who accumu-
lated it is of no more account as a mere corpse than his
poverty-stricken brother. What a foolish striving it all is !
What envyings, spites, meannesses and miserable pettinesses
arise from this greed of money ! Yes, I have learned my
lesson ! I wonder whether I shall now be permitted to pass
into a higher standard, and begin again ! "
These inner musings sometimes comforted and sometimes
perplexed him, and often he was made suddenly aware of
a strange and exhilarating impression of returning youth-
fulness a buoyancy of feeling and a delightful ease, such
as a man in full vigour experiences when, after ascending
some glorious mountain summit, he sees the panorama of
a world below him. His brain was very clear and active
and whenever he chose to talk, there were plenty of his
humble friends ready to listen. One day the morning papers
were full of great headlines announcing the assassination of
one of the world's throned rulers, and the Weircombe
fishermen, discussing the news, sought the opinion of " old
David " concerning the matter. " Old David " was, how-
ever, somewhat slow to be drawn on so questionable a sub-
ject, but Angus Reay was not so reticent.
" Why should kings spend money recklessly on their often
filthy vices and pleasures," he demanded, " while thousands,
ay, millions of their subjects starve? As long as such a
wretched state of things exists, so long will there be An-
archy. But I know the head and front of the offending!
I know the Chief of all the Anarchists ! "
" Lord bless us ! " exclaimed Mrs. Twitt, who happened
to be standing by. " Ye don't say so ! Wot's 'ee like ? "
" He's all shapes and sizes all colours too ! " laughed
Angus. " He's simply the Irresponsible Journalist ! "
" As you were once ! " suggested Helmsley, with a smile.
" No, I was never ' irresponsible/ " declared Reay, em-
phatically. " I may have been faulty in the following of
my profession, but I never wrote a line -that I thought might
cause uneasiness in the minds of the million. What I mean
is, that the Irresponsible Journalist who gives more promi-
nence to the doings of kings and queens and stupid ' society '
folk, than to the actual work, thought, and progress of the
nation at large, is making a forcing-bed for the growth
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 383
of Anarchy. Consider the feelings of a starving man who
reads in a newspaper that certain people in London give
dinners to their friends at a cost of Two Guineas a head !
Consider the frenzied passion of a father who sees his chil-
dred dying of want, when he reads that the mistress of a
king wears diamonds worth forty thousand pounds round
her throat 1 If the balance of material things is for the
present thus set awry, and such vile and criminal anachron-
isms exist, the proprietors of newspapers should have better
sense than to flaunt them before the public eye as though
they deserved admiration. The Anarchist at any rate has
an ideal. It may be a mistaken ideal, but whatever it is,
it is a desperate effort to break down a system which anarch-
ists imagine is at the root of all the bribery, corruption,
flunkeyism and money-grubbing of the world. Moreover,
the Anarchist carries his own life in his hand, and the risk
he runs can scarcely be for his pleasure. Yet he braves
everything for the ' ideal,' which he fancies, if realised, will
release others from the yoke of injustice and tyranny. Few
people have any ' ideals ' at all nowadays ; what they want
.to do is to spend as much as they like, and eat as much as
they can. And the newspapers that persist in chronicling
the amount of their expenditure and the extent of their
appetites, are the real breeders and encouragers of every
form of anarchy under the sun ! "
" You may be right," said Helmsley, slowly. " Indeed I
fear you are ! If one is to judge by old-time records, it
was a kinder, simpler world when there was no daily press."
" Man is an imitative animal," continued Reay. " The
deeds he hears of, whether good or bad, he seeks to emu-
late. In bygone ages crime existed, of course, but it was
not blazoned in headlines to the public. Good and brave
deeds were praised and recorded, and as a consequence
perhaps as a result of imitation there were many heroes.
In our times a good or brave deed is squeezed into an
obscure paragraph, while intellect and brilliant talent re-
ceive scarcely any acknowledgment the silly doings of
' society ' and the Court are the chief matter, hence, pos-
sibly, the preponderance of dunces and flunkeys, again pro-
duced by sheer ' imitativeness.' Is it pleasant for a man
with starvation at his door, to read that a king pays two
thousand a year to his cook? That same two thousand
comes out of the pockets of the nation and the starving
384 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
man thinks some of it ought to fall in his way instead of
providing for a cooker of royal victuals! There is no end
to the mischief generated by the publication of such snob-
bish statements, whether true or false. This was the kind
of irresponsible talk that set Jean-Jacques Rousseau think-
ing and writing, and kindling the first spark of the fire of
the French Revolution. ' Royal-Flunkey ' methods of jour-
nalism provoke deep resentment in the public mind, for
a king after all is only the paid servant of the people he
is not an idol or a deity to which an independent nation
should for ever crook the knee. And from the smouldering
anger of the million at what they conceive to be injustice
and hypocrisy, springs Anarchy."
" All very well said, but now suppose you were a wealthy
man, what would you do with your money?" asked
Helmsley.
Angus smiled.
" I don't know, David ! I've never realised the position
yet. But I should try to serve others more than to serve
myself."
The conversation ceased then, for Helmsley looked pale
and exhausted. He had been on the seashore for the greater
part of the afternoon, and it was now sunset. Yet he was
very unwilling to return home, and it was only by gentle
and oft-repeated persuasion that he at last agreed to leave
his well-loved haunt, leaning as usual on Mary's arm, with
Angus walking on the other side. Once or twice as he
slowly ascended the village street he paused, and looked
back at the tranquil loveliness of ocean, glimmering as with
millions of rubies in the red glow of the sinking sun.
" ' And there shall be no more sea ! ' " he quoted, dream-
ily " I should be sorry if that were true ! One would miss
the beautiful sea ! even in heaven ! "
He walked very feebly, and Mary exchanged one or two
anxious glances with Angus. But on reaching the cottage
again, his spirits revived. Seated in his accustomed chair,
he smiled as the little dog, Charlie, jumped on his knee,
and peered with a comically affectionate gravity into his
face.
" Asking me how I am, aren't you, Charlie ! " he said,
cheerfully " I'm all right, wee man ! all right ! "
Apparently Charlie was not quite sure about it, for he
declined to be 'removed from the position he had chosen,
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 385
and snuggling close down on his master's lap, curled him-
self up in a silky ball and went to sleep, now and then
opening a soft dark eye to show that his slumbers were not
so profound as they seemed.
That evening when Angus had gone, after saying a pro-
longed good-night to Mary in the little scented garden under
the lovely radiance of an almost full moon, Helmsley called
her to his side.
" Mary ! "
She came at once, and put her arm around him. He
looked up at her, smiling.
" You think I'm very tired, I know," he said " But I'm
not. I I want to say a word to you."
Still keeping her arm round him, she patted his shoulder
gently.
"Yes, David! What is it?"
" It is just this. You know I told you I had some papers
that I valued, locked away in the little cupboard in my
room ? "
" Yes. I know."
" Well now, when when I die will you promise me
to take these papers yourself to the address that is written
on them ? That's all I ask of you ! Will you ? "
" Of course I will ! " she said, readily " You know
you've kept the key yourself since you got well from your
bad fever last year "
" There is the key," he said, drawing it from his pocket,
and holding it up to her " Take it now ! "
" But why now ? " she began.
" Because I wish it ! " he answered, with a slight touch
of obstinacy then, smiling rather wistfully, he added, " It
will comfort me to know you have it in your own posses-
sion. And Mary promise me that you will let no one
not even Angus see or touch these papers ! that you will
take the parcel just as you find it, straight to the person
to whom it is addressed, and deliver it yourself to him!
I don't want you to swear, but I want you to put your dear
kind hand in mine, and say ' On my word of honour I will
not open the packet old David has entrusted to me. When
he dies I will take it my own self to the person to whom it
is addressed, and wait till I am told that everything in it
has been received and understood.' Will you, for my com-
fort, say these words after me, Mary ? "
386 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Of course I will ! "
And placing her hand in his, she repeated it slowly word
for word. He watched her closely as she spoke, her eyes
gazing candidly into his own. Then he heaved a deep sigh.
" Thank you, my dear ! That will do. God bless you !
And now to bed ! "
He rose somewhat unsteadily, and she saw he was very
weak.
" Don't you feel so well, David ? " she asked, anxiously.
" Would you like me to sit up with you ? "
" No, no, my dear, no ! All I want is a good sleep a
good long sleep. I'm only tired."
She saw him into his room, and, according to her usual
custom, put a handbell on the small table which was at the
side of his bed. Charlie, trotting at her heels, suddenly
began to whimper. She stooped and picked the little crea-
ture up in her arms.
" Mind you ring if you want me," she said to Helmsley
then, " I'm just above you, and I can hear the least
sound."
He looked at her earnestly. His eyes were almost young
in their brightness.
" God bless you, Mary ! " he said " You've been a good
angel to me! I never quite believed in Heaven, but look-
ing at you I know there is such a place the place where
you were born ! "
She smiled but her eyes were soft with unshed tears.
" You think too well of me, David," she said. " I'm not
an angel I wish I were! I'm only a very poor, ordinary
sort of woman."
" Are you ? " he said, and smiled " Well, think so, if it
pleases you. Good-night and again God bless you ! "
He patted the tiny head of the small Charlie, whom she
held nestling against her breast.
" Good-night, Charlie ! "
The little dog licked his hand and looked at him wistfully.
" Don't part with him, Mary ! " he said, suddenly " Let
him always have a home with you ! "
" Now, David ! You really are tired out and over-melan-
choly ! As if I should ever part with him ! " And she
kissed Charlie's silky head " We'll all keep together !
Good-night, David ! "
" Good-night ! " he answered. He watched her as she
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 387
went through the doorway, holding the dog in her arms
and turning back to smile at him over her shoulder anon
he listened to her footfall ascending the stairway to her
own room then, to her gentle movements to and fro above
his bed till presently all was silent. Silence except for
the measured plash of the sea, which he heard distinctly
echoing up through the coombe from the shore. A great
loneliness environed him touched by a great awe. He felt
himself to be a solitary soul in the midst of some vast desert,
yet not without the consciousness that a mystic joy, an
undreamed-of glory, was drawing near that should make
that desert " blossom like the rose." He moved slowly and
feebly to the window against one-half of the latticed pane
leaned a bunch of white roses, shining with a soft pearl
hue in the light of a lovely moon.
" It is a beautiful world ! " he said, half aloud " No one
in his right mind could leave it without some regret ! "
Then an inward voice seemed to whisper to him
" You knew nothing of this world you call so beautiful
before you entered it ; may there not be another world still
more beautiful of which you equally know nothing, but of
which you are about to make an experience, all life being a
process of continuous higher progress?"
And this idea now not only seemed to him possible but
almost a certainty. For as our last Laureate expresses it :
" Whatever crazy sorrow saith,
No life that breathes with human breath
Has ever truly longed for death.
'Tis life whereof our nerves are scant,
Oh life, not death, for which we pant-
More life, and fuller, that I want ! "
His brain was so active and his memory so clear that he
was somewhat surprised to feel his body so feeble and
aching, when at last he undressed, and lay down to sleep.
He thought of many things of his boyhood's home out
in Virginia of the stress and excitement of hjs^pusiness
career of his extraordinary successes, piled t oije,,'on the
top of the other and then of the emptiness of.^t^ill.!
" I should have been happier and wiser," he said, " if
I had lived the life of a student in some quiet h'ome among
the hills where I should have seen less of men and learned
more of God. But it is too late now too late I "
388 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
And a curious sorrow and pity moved him for certain
men he knew who were eating up the best time of their
lives in a mad struggle for money, losing everything of real
value in their scramble for what was, after all, so valueless,
sacrificing peace, honour, love, and a quiet mind, for
what in the eternal countings is of no more consideration
than the dust of the highroad. Not what a man has, but
what he is, this is the sole concern of Divine Equity.
Earthly ideas of justice are in direct opposition to this law,
but the finite can never overbalance the infinite. We may,
if we so please, honour a king as king, but with God there
are no kings. There are only Souls, " made in His image."
And whosoever defaces that Divine Image, whether he
be base-born churl or crowned potentate, must answer for
the wicked deed. How many of us view our social ac-
quaintances from any higher standard than the extent of
their cash accounts, or the " usefulness " of their influ-
ence? Yet the inexorable Law works silently on, and
day after day, century after century, shows us the vanity
of riches, the fall of pride and power, the triumph of
genius, the immutability of love! And we are still turning
over the well-worn pages of the same old school-book which
was set before Tyre and Sidon, Carthage and Babylon
the same, the very same, with one saving exception that
a Divine Teacher came to show us how to spell it and read
it aright and He was crucified ! Doubtless were He to
come again and once more try to help us, we should re-enact
that old-time Jewish murder !
Lying quietly in his bed, Helmsley conversed with his
inner self, as it were, reasoning with his own human per-
plexities and gradually unravelling them. After all, if his
life had been, as he considered, only a lesson, was it not
good for him that he had learned that lesson? A passing
memory of Lucy Sorrel flitted across his brain and he
thought how singular it was that chance should have brought
him into touch with the very man who would have given
her that " rose of love " he desired she should wear, had
she realised the value and beauty of that immortal flower.
He, David Helmsley, had been apparently led by devious
ways, not only to find an unselfish love for himself, but
also to be the instrument of atoning to Angus Reay for his
first love-disappointment, and uniting him to a woman
whose exquisitely tender and faithful nature was bound to
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 389
make the joy and sanctity of his life. In this, had not all
things been ordered well? Did it not seem that, notwith-
standing- his, Helmsley's, self-admitted worthlessness, the
Divine Power had used him for the happiness of others,
to serve as a link of love between two deserving souls?
He began to think that it was not by chance that he had
been led to wander away from the centre of his business
interests, and lose himself on the hills above Weircombe.
Not accident, but a high design had been hidden in
this incident a design in which Self had been trans-
formed to Selflessness, and loneliness to love. " I should
like to believe in God if I could ! " This he had
said to his friend Vesey, on the last night he had seen him.
And now did he believe ? Yes ! for he had benefited by
his first experience of what a truly God-like love may be
the love of a perfectly unselfish, tender, devout woman
who, for no motive at all, but simply out of pure goodness
and compassion for sorrow and suffering, had rescued one
whom she judged to be in need of help. If therefore God
could make one poor woman so divinely forbearing and
gentle, it was certain that He, from whom all Love must
emanate, was yet more merciful than the most merciful
woman, as well as stronger than the strongest man. And
he believed believed implicitly; lifted to the height of
a perfect faith by the help of a perfect love. In the mirror
of one sweet and simple human character he had seen the
face of God and he was of the same mind as the mighty
musician who, when he was dying, cried out in rapture
" I believe I am only at the Beginning ! " * He was con-
scious of a strange dual personality, some spirit within
him urgently expressed itself as being young, clamorous,
inquisitive, eager, and impatient of restraint, while his nat-
ural bodily self was so weary and feeble that he felt as if
he could scarcely move a hand. He listened for a little
while to the ticking of the clock in the kitchen which was
next to his room, and by and by, being thoroughly drowsy,
he sank into a heavy slumber. He did not know that Mary,
anxious about him, had not gone to bed at all, but had
resolved to sit up all night in case he should call her or
want for anything. But the hours wore on peacefully for
him till the moon began her downward course towards the
west, and the tide having rolled in to its highest mark,
began to ebb and flow out again. Then all at once he
* Beethoven.
890 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
awoke smitten by a shock of pain that seemed to crash
through his heart and send his brain swirling into a blind
chaos. Struggling for breath, he sprang up in his bed, and
instinctively snatched the handbell at his side. He was
hardly aware of ringing it, so great was his agony but
presently, regaining a glimmering sense of consciousness,
he found Mary's arms round him, and saw Mary's eyes
looking tenderly into his own.
" David, dear David ! " And the sweet voice was shaken
by tears. " David ! Oh, my poor dear, don't you know
me?"
Know her? In the Valley of the Shadow what other
Angel could there be so faithful or so tender! He sighed,
leaning heavily against her bosom.
" Yes, dear I know you ! " he gasped, faintly. " But
I am very ill dying, I think ! Open the window give me
air!"
She laid his head gently back on the pillow, and ran
quickly to throw open the lattice. In that same moment,
the dog Charlie, who had followed her downstairs from her
room, jumped on the bed, and finding his master's hand
lying limp and pallid outside the coverlet, fawned upon it
with a plaintive cry. The cool sea-air rushed in, and
Helmsley's sinking strength revived. He turned his eyes
gratefully towards the stream of silvery moonlight that
poured through the open casement.
" ' Angels ever bright and fair ! ' " he murmured then
as Mary came back to his side, he smiled vaguely ; " I
thought I heard my little sister singing ! "
Slipping her arm again under his head, she carefully
administered a dose of the cordial which had been made up
for him as a calmative against his sudden heart attacks.
He swallowed it slowly and with difficulty.
" I'm I'm all right," he said, feebly. " The pain has
gone. I'm sorry to have wakened you up, Mary! but
you're always kind and patient "
His voice broke and a grey pallor began to steal almost
imperceptibly upwards over his wasted features. She
watched him, her heart beating fast with grief and terror,
the tears rushing to her eyes in spite of her efforts to
restrain them. For she saw that he was dying. The sol-
emnly musical plash of the sea sounded rhythmically upon
the quiet air like the soothing murmur of a loving mother's
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN SQI
lullaby, and the radiance of the moonlight flooded the little
room with mystical glory. In her womanly tenderness
she drew him more protectingly into the embrace of her
kind arm, as though seeking to hold him back from the
abyss of the Unknown, and held his head close against
her breast He opened his eyes and saw her thus bending
over him. A smile brightened his face a smile of youth,
and hope, and confidence.
'* The end is near, Mary ! " he said in a clear, calm
voice ; " but it's not difficult ! There is no pain. And
you are with me. That is enough ! that is more than I
ever hoped for ! more than I deserve ! God bless you
always ! "
He shut his eyes again but opened them quickly in a
sudden struggle for breath.
"The papers!" he gasped. "Mary Mary you won't
forget your promise ! "
" No, David ! dear David ! " she sobbed. " I won't
forget!"
The paroxysm passed, and his hand wandered over the
coverlet, where it encountered the soft, crouching head
of the little dog who was lying close to him, shivering in
every limb.
" Why, here's Charlie ! " he whispered, weakly. " Poor
wee Charlie ! ' Take care of me ' is written on his collar.
Mary will take care of you, Charlie! good-bye, little
man ! "
He lay quiet then, but his eyes were wide open, gazing
not upward, but straight ahead, as though they saw some
wondrous vision in the little room.
" Strange ! strange that I did not know all this before ! "
he murmured and then was silent, still gazing straight
before him. All at once a great shudder shook his body
and his thin features grew suddenly pinched and wan.
" It is almost morning ! " he said, and his voice was like
an echo of itself from very far away. " The sun will rise
but I shall not be here to see the sun or you, Mary ! "
and rallying his fast ebbing strength he turned towards her.
" Keep your arms about me ! pray for me ! God will hear
you God must hear His own! Don't cry, dear! Kiss
me! "
She kissed him, clasping his poor frail form to her heart
as though he were a child, and tenderly smoothing back
392 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
his venerable snow-white hair. A slumbrous look of per-
fect peace softened the piteousness of his dying eyes.
" The only treasure ! " he murmured, faintly. " The
treasure of Heaven Love! God bless you for giving it
to me, Mary ! good-bye, my dear ! "
" Not good-bye, David ! " she cried. " No not good-
bye!"
" Yes good-bye ! " he said, and then, as another strong
shudder convulsed him, he made a last feeble effort to lay
his head against her bosom. " Don't let me go, Mary !
Hold me ! closer ! closer ! Your heart is warm, ah, so
warm, Mary ! and death is cold cold ! "
Another moment and the moonlight, streaming through
the open window, fell on the quiet face of a dead man.
Then came silence broken only by the gentle murmur of
the sea, and the sound of a woman's weeping.
CHAPTER XXIII
NOT often is the death of a man, who to all appearances
was nothing more than a " tramp," attended by any dem-
onstrations of sorrow. There are so many " poor " men !
The roads are infested with them. It would seem, in fact,
that they have no business to live at all, especially when they
are old, and can do little or nothing to earn their bread.
Such, generally and roughly speaking, is the opinion of
the matter-of-fact world. Nevertheless, the death of " old
David " created quite an atmosphere of mourning in Weir-
combe, though, had it been known that he was one of the
world's famous millionaires, such kindly regret and com-
passion might have been lacking. As things were, he
carried his triumph of love to the grave with him. Mary's
grief for the loss of the gentle old man was deep and
genuine, and Angus Reay shared it with her to the full.
" I shall miss him so much ! " she sobbed, looking at the
empty chair, which had been that of her own father. " He
was always so kind and thoughtful for me never wishing
to give trouble ! poor dear old David ! and he did so
hope to see us married, Angus! you know it was through
him that we knew each other ! "
" I know ! " and Angus, profoundly moved, was not
ashamed of the tears in his own eyes " God bless him !
He was a dear, good old fellow! But, Mary, you must
not fret; he would not like to see your pretty eyes all
red with weeping. This life was getting very difficult for
him, remember, he endured a good deal of pain. Bunce
says he must have suffered acutely often without saying a
word about it, lest you should be anxious. He is at rest
now."
" Yes, he is at rest ! " and Mary struggled to repress
her tears " Come and see ! "
Hand in hand they entered the little room where the dead
man lay, covered with a snowy sheet, his waxen hands
crossed peacefully outside it, and delicate clusters of white
roses and myrtle laid here and there around him. His
face was like a fine piece of sculptured marble in its still
393
394 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
repose the gravity and grandeur of death had hallowed the
worn features of old age, and given them a great sweet-
ness and majesty. The two lovers stood gazing at the
corpse for a moment in silent awe then Mary whispered
softly
" He seems only asleep ! And he looks happy."
" He is happy, dear ! he must be happy ! " and Angus
drew her gently away. " Poor and helpless as he was,
still he found a friend in you at the last, and now all his
troubles are over. He has gone to Heaven with the help
and blessing of your kind and tender heart, my Mary! I
am sure of that ! "
She sighed, and her eyes were clouded with sadness.
" Heaven seems very far away sometimes ! " she said.
" And often I wonder what is Heaven ? "
" Love ! " he answered " Love made perfect Love that
knows no change and no end ! ' Nothing is sweeter than
love; nothing stronger, nothing higher, nothing broader,
nothing more pleasant, nothing fuller or better in heaven
and in earth, for love is born of God, and can rest only
in God above all things created.' "
He quoted the beautiful words from the Imitation of
Christ reverently and tenderly.
" Is that not true, my Mary ? " he said, kissing her.
" Yes, Angus ! For us I know it is true ! I wish it
were true for all the world ! "
And then there came a lovely day, perfectly brilliant and
intensely calm, on which " old David," was quietly buried
in the picturesque little churchyard of Weircombe. Mary
and Angus together had chosen his resting-place, a grassy
knoll swept by the delicate shadows of a noble beech-tree,
and facing the blue expanse of the ocean. Every man
who had known and talked with him in the village offered
to contribute to the expenses of his funeral, which, how-
ever, were very slight. The good Vicar would accept no
burial fee, and all who knew the story of the old " tramp's "
rescue from the storm by Mary Deane, and her gentle
care of him afterwards, were anxious to prove that they
too were not destitute of that pure and true charity which
" suffereth long and is kind." Had David Helmsley been
buried as David Helmsley the millionaire, it is more than
likely that he might not have had one sincere mourner
at his grave, with the exception of his friend, Sir Francis
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 395
Vesey, and his valet Benson. There would have been a
few " business " men, and some empty carriages belong-
ing to fashionable folk sent out of so-called " respect " ;
but of the many he had entertained, assisted and benefited,
not one probably would have taken the trouble to pay him
so much as a last honour. As the poor tramping old
basket-maker, whose failing strength would not allow him
to earn much of a living, his simple funeral was attended
by nearly a whole village, honest men who stood respect-
fully bare-headed as the coffin was lowered into the grave
kind-hearted women who wept for " poor lonely soul "
as they expressed it, and little children who threw knots
of flowers into that mysterious dark hole in the ground
" where people went to sleep for a little, and then came
out again as angels " as their parents told them. It was
a simple ceremony, performed in a spirit of perfect piety,
and without any hypocrisy or formality. And when it was all
over, and the villagers had dispersed to their homes, Mr.
Twitt on his way " down street," as he termed it, from the
churchyard, paused at Mary Deane's cottage to unburden
his mind of a weighty resolution.
" Ye see, Mis' Deane, it's like this," he said " I as good
as promised the poor old gaffer as I'd do 'im a tombstone
for nuthin', an' I'm 'ere to say as I aint a-goin' back on
that. But I must take my time on it. I'd like to think out
a speshul hepitaph an' doin' portry takes a bit of 'ard
brain work. So when the earth's set down on 'is grave a
bit, an' the daisies is a-growin' on the grass, I'll mebbe
'ave got an idea wot'll please ye. 'E aint left any mossel
o' paper writ out like, with wot 'e'd like put on 'im, I
s'pose ? "
Mary felt the colour rush to her face.
" N no ! Not that I know of, Mr. Twitt," she said.
" He has left a few papers which I promised him I would
take to a friend of his, but I haven't even looked at them
yet, and don't know to whom they are addressed. If I
find anything I'll let you know."
" Ay, do so ! " and Twitt rubbed his chin meditatively.
" I wouldn't run agin' 'is wishes for anything if ser be
I can carry 'em out. I considers as 'e wor a very fine
sort gentle as a lamb, an' grateful for all wot was done
for 'im, an' I wants to be as friendly to 'im in 'is death as
I wos in 'is life ye understand?"
396 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
" Yes I know I quite understand," said Mary. " But
there's plenty of time "
" Yes, there's plenty of time ! " agreed Twitt. " But,
lor/ if you could only know what a pain it gives me in
the 'ed to work the portry out of it, ye wouldn't wonder
at my preparin' ye, as 'twere. Onny I wishes ye just to
understand that it'll all be done for love an' no charge."
Mary thanked him smiling, yet with tears in her eyes,
and he strolled away down the street in his usual slow and
somewhat casual manner.
That evening, the evening of the day on which all that
was mortal of " old David " had been committed to the
gentle ground, Mary unlocked the cupboard of which he
had given her the key on the last night of his life, and
took out the bulky packet it contained. She read the
superscription with some surprise and uneasiness. It was
addressed to a Mr. Bulteel, in a certain street near Chan-
cery Lane, London. Now Mary had never been to London
in her life. The very idea of going to that vast unknown
metropolis half scared her, and she sat for some minutes,
with the sealed packet in her lap, quite confused and troubed.
" Yet I made the promise ! " she said to herself " And
I dare not break it ! I must go. And I must not tell Angus
anything about it that's the worst part of all ! "
She gazed wistfully at the packet, anon she turned it
over and over. It was sealed in several places but the
seal had no graven impress, the wax having merely been
pressed with the ringer.
" I must go ! " she repeated. " I'm bound to deliver it
myself to the man for whom it is intended. But what a
journey it will be ! To London ! "
Absorbed in thought, she started as a tap came at the
cottage door, and rising, she hurriedly put the package out
of sight, just as Angus entered.
" Mary," he said, as he came towards her " Do you
know, I've been thinking we had better get quietly married
as soon as possible?"
She smiled.
" Why? Is the book finished? " she asked.
" No, it isn't. I wish it was ! But it will be finished in
another month "
" Then let us wait that other month," she said. " You
will be happier, I know, if the work is off your mind."
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 397
" Yes I shall be happier but Mary, I can't bear to
think of you all alone in this little cottage "
She gently interrupted him.
" I was all alone for five years after my father died," she
said. " And though I was sometimes a little sad, I was
not dull, because I always had work to do. Dear old David
was a good companion, and it was pleasant to take care
of him indeed, this last year has been quite a happy one
for me, and I shan't find it hard to live alone in the cottage
for just a month now. Don't worry about me, Angus !' r
He stooped and picked up Charlie, who, since his mas-
ter's death, had been very dispirited.
" You see, Mary," he said, as he fondled the little dog"
and stroked its silky hair " nothing will alter the fact
that you are richer than I am. You do regular work for
which you get regular pay now I have no settled work at
all, and not much chance of pay, even for the book on
which I've been spending nearly a year of my time. You've
got a house which you can keep going and very soon I
shall not be able to afford so much as a room! think of
that ! And yet I have the impertinence to ask you to marry
me! Forgive me, dear! It is, as you say, better to wait."
She came and entwined her arms about him.
" I'll wait a month," she said " No longer, Angus ! By
that time, if you don't marry me, I shall summons you for
breach of promise ! "
She smiled but he still remained thoughtful.
" Angus ! " she said suddenly " I want to tell you I
shall have to go away from Weircombe for a day perhaps
two days."
He looked surprised.
" Go away ! " he echoed. " What for? Where to? "
She told him then of " old David's " last request to her,
and of the duty she had undertaken to perform.
He listened gravely.
" You must do it, of course," he said. " But will you
have to travel far?"
" Some distance from Weircombe," she answered,
evasively.
" May I not go with you ? " he asked.
She hesitated.
" I promised " she began.
"And you shall not break your word," he said, kissing
THE TREASURE OF H E ATE NT
her. " You are so true, my Mary, that I wouldn't tempt
you to change one word or even half a word of what: you
have said to any one, living or dead. Wheni do> yoir want
to^take this journey?"
"To-morrow, or the next day," she said. "I'll asfrMrs,
Twitt to see to the house and look after Charlie^ and ; I'll
be back again as quickly as I can. Because, when I've given.
the papers over to David's friend, whoever he- is y I shall.
have nothing more to do but just come home."
This being settled, it was afterwards determined that the-
next day but one would be the most convenient for her to)
go, as she could then avail herself of the canrier ? s. cart;
-.to take her as* far as Minehead. But she: was not allowed- to-
-start; on b^ r unexpected travels without a burst o prophecy
.
. ' 'As I've said an' allus thought,'* said that estimable-
lady " Old David 'ad suthin' 'idden> In 'is 'art wot 'e never
giv' away to nobody. Mark my words, Mis' Deane- ! : '&
'ad a sin or a sorrer at the back oi 'im, an' whichever it do
turn out to be I'm not a-goin' to blame 'im either way,, for
bein' dead 'e's dead, an' them as sez unkind o' the dead is apt
to be picked morsels for the devil's gridiron. But now that
you've got a packet to take to old David's, friends some-
wheres, you may take my word for 't, Mis' Deane, you'll
find out as 'e was wot ye didn't expect. Onny last night,
as I was a-sittin' afore the kitchen fire, for though bein*
summer I'm that chilly that I feels the least change in the
temper o' the sea, as I was a-sittin', I say, out jumps
a cinder as long as a pine cone, red an' glowin* like a
candle at the end. An' I stares at the thing, an' I sez:
' That's either a purse o' money, or a journey with a coffin
at the end ' an' the thing burns an' shines like a reg'lar
spark of old Nick's cookin' stove, an' though I pokes an'
pokes it, it won't go out, but lies on the 'erth, frizzlin' all
the time. An' I do 'ope, Mis' Deane, as now yer goin.'
off to 'and over old David's effecks to the party interested,
ye'll come back safe, for the poor old dear 'adn't a penny
to bless 'isself with, so the cinder must mean the jour-
ney, an' bein' warned, ye'll guard agin the coffin at the
end."
Mary smiled rather sadly.
" I'll take care ! " she said. " But I don't think anything
very serious is likely to happen. Poor old David had no
friends, and probably the few papers he has left are only
for some relative who would not do anything for him while
he was alive, but who, all the same, has to be told that
he is dead."
" Maybe so ! " and Mrs. Twitt nodded her head pro-
foundly " But that cinder worn't made in the fire for nowt !
Such a shape as 'twas don't grow out of the flames twice
in twenty year ! "
And, with the conviction of the village prophetess she
assumed to be, she was not to be shaken from the idea that
strange discoveries were pending respecting " old David."
Mary herself could not quite get rid of a vague misgiving
and anxiety, which culminated at last in her determination
to show Angus Reay the packet left in her charge, in order
that he might see to whom it was addessed.
" For that can do no harm," she thought " I feel that
he really ought to know that I have to go all the way to
London."
Angus, however, on reading the superscription, was fully
as perplexed as she was. He was familiar with the street
near Chancery Lane where the mysterious " Mr. Bulteel "
lived, but the name of Bulteel as a resident in that street
was altogether unknown to him. Presently a bright idea
struck him.
" I have it ! " he said. " Look here, Mary, didn't David
say he used to be employed in office-work ? "
" Yes," she answered, " He had to give up his situation,
so I understand, on account of old age."
" Then that makes it clear," Angus declared. " This Mr.
Bulteel is probably a man who worked with him in the same
office perhaps the only link he had with his past life. I
think you'll find that's the way it will turn out. But I hate
to think of your travelling to London all alone! for the
first time in your life, too ! "
" Oh well, that doesn't matter much ! " she said, cheer-
fully, " Now that you know where I am going, it's all
right. You forget, Angus! I'm quite old enough to take
care of myself. How many times must I remind you that
you are engaged to be married to an old maid of thirty-five ?
You treat me as if I were quite a young girl ! "
" So I do and so I will ! " and his eyes rested upon
her with a proud look of admiration. " For you are young,
Mary young in your heart and soul and nature younger
400 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
than any so-called young- girl I ever met, and twenty times
more beautiful. So there ! "
She smiled gravely.
" You are easily satisfied, Angus," she said " But the
world will not agree with you in your ideas of me. And
when you become a famous man "
" If I become a famous man " he interrupted.
" No not ' if ' I say ' when, ' " she repeated. " When
you become a famous man, people will say, ' what a pity he
did not marry some one younger and more suited to his
position "
She could speak no more, for Angus silenced her with
a kiss.
" Yes, what a pity it will be ! " he echoed. " What a
pity ! When other men, less fortunate, see that I have won
a beautiful and loving wife, whose heart is all my own,
who is pure and true as the sun in heaven, ' what a pity/
they will say, ' that we are not so lucky ! ' That's what the
talk will be, Mary ! For there's no man on earth who does
not crave to be loved for himself alone a selfish wish, per-
haps but it's implanted in every son of Adam. And a
man's life is always more or less spoilt by lack of the love
he needs."
She put her arms round his neck, and her true eyes looked
straightly into his own.
" Your life will not be spoilt that way, dear ! " she said.
" Trust me for that ! "
" Do I not know it ! " he answered, passionately. " And
would I not lose the whole world, with all its chances of
fame and fortune, rather than lose you!"
And in their mutual exchange of tenderness and Con-
fidence they forgot all save
" The time and place
And the loved one all together ! "
It was a perfect summer's morning when Mary, for the
first time in many years, left her little home in Weircombe
and started upon a journey she had never taken and never
had thought of taking a journey which, to her unsophisti-
cated mind, seemed fraught with strange possibilities of
difficulty, even of peril. London had loomed upon her
horizon through the medium of the daily newspaper, as a
vast over-populated city where (if she might believe the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 401
press) humanity is more selfish than generous, more cruel
than kind, where bitter poverty and starvation are seen
side by side with criminal extravagance and luxury, and
where, according to her simple notions, the people were for-
getting or had forgotten God. It was with a certain linger-
ing and wistful backward look that she left her little cottage
embowered among roses, and waved farewell to Mrs. Twitt,
who, standing at the garden gate with Charlie in her arms,
waved hearty response, cheerfully calling out " Good
Luck ! " after her, and adding the further assurance " Ye'll
find everything as well an' straight as ye left it when ye
comes 'ome, please God ! "
Angus Reay accompanied her in the carrier's cart to
Minehead, and there she caught the express to London. On
enquiry, she found there was a midnight train which
would bring her back from the metropolis at about nine
o'clock the next morning, and she resolved to travel home
by it.
" You will be so tired ! " said Angus, regretfully. " And
yet I would rather you did not stay away a moment longer
than you can help ! "
" Don't fear ! " and she smiled. " You cannot be a bit
more anxious for me to come back than I am to come back
myself ! Good-bye ! It's only for a day ! "
She waved her hand as the train steamed out of the sta-
tion, and he watched her sweet face smiling at him to the
very last, when the express, gathering speed, rushed away
with her and whirled her into the far distance. A great
depression fell upon his soul, all the light seemed gone out
of the landscape all the joy out of his life and he realised,
as it were suddenly, what her love meant to him.
" It is everything ! " he said. " I don't believe I could
write a line without her! in fact I know I wouldn't have
the heart for it! She is so different to every woman I
have ever known, she seems to make the world all warm
and kind by just smiling her own bonnie smile! "
And starting off to walk part of the way back to Weir-
combe, he sang softly under his breath as he went a verse
of " Annie Laurie "
" Like dew on the gowan lyin'
Is the fa' o" her fairy feet;
And like winds in simmer sighin'
Her voice is low an' sweet
402 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
Her voice is low an' sweet;
An' she's a' the world to me;
An' for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doun and dee ! "
And all the beautiful influences of nature, the bright
sunshine, the wealth of June blossom, the clear skies and the
singing of birds, seemed part of that enchanting old song,
expressing the happiness which alone is made perfect by
love.
Meanwhile, no adventures of a startling or remarkable
kind occurred to Mary during her rather long and tedious
journey. Various passengers got into her third-class com-
partment and got out again, but they were somewhat dull
and commonplace folk, many of them being of that curiously
unsociable type of human creature which apparently mis-
trusts its fellows. Contrary to her ingenuous expectation,
no one seenied to think a journey to London was anything
of a unique or thrilling experience. Once only, when she
was nearing her destination, did she venture to ask a fel-
low-passenger, an elderly man with a kindly face, how she
ought to go to Chancery Lane. He looked at her with a
touch of curiosity.
" That's among the hornets' nests," he said.
She raised her pretty eyebrows with a little air of per-
plexity.
"Hornets' nests?"
" Yes. Where a good many lawyers live, or used to
live."
" Oh, I see ! " And she smiled responsively to what he
evidently intended as a brilliant satirical joke. " But is it
easy to get there ? "
" Quite easy. Take a 'bus."
" From the station ? "
" Of course ! "
And he subsided into silence.
She asked no more questions, and on her arrival at Pad-
dington confided her anxieties to a friendly porter, who,
announcing that he was " from Somerset born himself and
would see her through,." gave her concise directions which
she attentively followed; with the result that despite much
bewilderment in getting in and getting out of omnibuses,
and jostling against more people than she had ever seen in
the course of her whole life, she found herself at last at the
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 403
entrance of a rather obscure-looking smutty little passage,
guarded by a couple of round columns, on which were
painted in black letters a considerable number of names,
among which were those of " Vesey and Symonds." The
numeral inscribed above the entrance to this passage corre-
sponded to the number on the address of the packet which
she carried for " Mr. Bulteel " but though she read all the
names on the two columns, " Bulteel " was not among them.
Nevertheless, she made her way perseveringly into what
seemed nothing but a little blind alley leading nowhere, and
as she did so, a small boy came running briskly down a flight
of dark stairs, which were scarcely visible from the street,
and nearly knocked her over.
' 'Ullo! Beg pardon 'ml Which office d' ye want?"
" Is there," began Mary, in her gentle voice " is there
a Mr. Bulteel ?"
" Bulteel ? Yes straight up second floor third door
Vesey and Symonds ! "
With these words jerked out of himself at lightning speed,
the boy rushed past her and disappeared.
With a beating heart Mary cautiously climbed the dark
staircase which he had just descended. When she reached
the second floor, she paused. There were three doors all
facing her, on the first one was painted the name of " Sir
Francis Vesey " on the second " Mr. John Symonds "
and on the third " Mr. Bulteel." As soon as she saw this last,
she heaved a little sigh of relief, and going straight up to it
knocked timidly. It was opened at once by a young clerk
who looked at her questioningly.
" Mr. Bulteel ? " she asked, hesitatingly.
" Yes. Have you an appointment ? "
" No. I am quite a stranger," she said. " I only wish
to tell Mr. Bulteel of the death of some one he knows."
The clerk glanced at her and seemed dubious.
" Mr. Bulteel is very busy," he began " and unless you
have an appointment
" Oh, please let me see him ! " And Mary's eyes almost
filled with tears. " See ! " and she held up before him the
packet she carried. " I've travelled all the way from Weir-
combe, in Somerset, to bring him this from his dead friend,
and I promised to give it to him myself. Please, please do
not turn me away ! "
The clerk stared hard at the superscription on the packet,
404 THE TREASURE- OF HEAVEN
as he well might. For he had at once recognised the hand-
writing of David Helmsley. But he suppressed every out-
ward sign of surprise, save such as might appear in a glance
of unconcealed wonder at Mary herself. Then he said
briefly
"Come in!"
She obeyed, and was at once shut in a stuffy cupboard-
like room which had no other furniture than an office desk
and high stool.
" Name, please ! " said the clerk.
She looked startled then smiled.
" My name ? Mary Deane."
" Miss or Mrs. ? "
" ' Miss,' if you please, sir," she answered, the colour
flushing her cheeks with confusion at the sharpness of his
manner.
The clerk gave her another up-and-down look, and open-
ing a door behind his office desk vanished like a conjuror
tricking himself through a hole.
She waited patiently for a couple of minutes and then
the clerk came back, with traces of excitement in his
manner.
" Yes Mr. Bulteel will see you. This way ! "
She followed him with her usual quiet step and com-
posed demeanour, and bent her head with a pretty air of
respect as she found herself in the presence of an elderly
man with iron-grey whiskers and a severely preoccupied air
of business hardening his otherwise rather benevolent fea-
tures. He adjusted his spectacles and looked keenly at her
as she entered. She spoke at once.
" You are Mr. Bulteel ? "
" Yes."
" Then this is for you," she said, approaching him, and
handing him the packet she had brought. " They are some
papers belonging to a poor old tramp named David, who
lodged in my house for nearly a year it will be a year come
July. He was very weak and feeble and got lost in a storm
on the hills above Weircombe that's where I live and I
found him lying quite unconscious in the wet and cold, and
took him home and nursed him. He got better and stayed
on with me, making baskets for a living he was too feeble
to tramp any more but he gave me no trouble, he was such
a kind, good old man. I was very fond of him. And and
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 405
last week he died " here her sweet voice trembled. " He
suffered great pain but at the end he passed away quite
peacefully in my arms. He was very anxious that I should
bring- his papers to you myself and I promised I would
do so "
She paused, a little troubled by his silence. Surely he
looked very strangely at her.
" I am sorry," she faltered, nervously " if I have
brought you any bad news; poor David seemed to have
no friends, but perhaps you were a friend to him once and
may have a kind recollection of him "
He was still quite silent. Slowly he broke the seals of
the packet, and drawing out a slip of paper which came first
to his hand, read what was written upon it. Then he rose
from his chair.
" Kindly wait one moment," he said. " These these
papers and letters are not for me, but but for for an-
other gentleman."
He hurried out of the room, taking the packet with him,
and Mary remained alone for nearly a quarter of an hour,
vaguely perplexed, and wondering how any " other gentle-
man " could possibly be concerned in the matter. Presently
Mr. Bulteel returned, in an evident state of suppressed
agitation.
" Will you please follow me, Miss Deane ? " he said, with
a singular air of deference. " Sir Francis is quite alone
and will see you at once."
Mary's blue eyes opened in amazement.
"Sir Francis !" she stammered. "I don't quite
understand "
" This way," said Mr. Bulteel, escorting her out of his
own room along the passage to the door which she had
before seen labelled with the name of " Sir Francis Vesey "
then catching the startled and appealing glance of her
eyes, he added kindly : " Don't be alarmed ! It's all
right ! "
Thereupon he opened the door and announced
" Miss Deane, Sir Francis."
Mary looked up, and then curtsied with quite an " out-
of-date " air of exquisite grace, as she found herself in the
presence of a dignified white-haired old gentleman, who,
standing near a large office desk on which the papers she
had brought lay open, was wiping his spectacles, and look-
406 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
ing very much as if he had been guilty of the womanish
weakness of tears. He advanced to meet her.
" How do you do ! " he said, uttering this common-
place with remarkable earnestness, and taking her hand
kindly in his own. " You bring me sad news very sad
news ! I had not expected the death of my old friend so
suddenly I had hoped to see him again yes, I had hoped
very much to see him again quite soon ! And so you were
with him at the last?"
Mary looked, as she felt, utterly bewildered.
" I think," she murmured " I think there must be some
mistake, the papers I brought here were for Mr.
Bulteel "
" Yes yes ! " said Sir Francis. " That's quite right !
Mr. Bulteel is my confidential clerk and the packet was ad-
dressed to him. But a note inside requested that Mr. Bul-
teel should bring all the documents at once to me, which he
has done. Everything is quite correct quite in order.
But I forgot ! You do not know ! Please sit down and
I will endeavour to explain."
He drew up a chair for her near his desk so that she
might lean her arm upon it, for she looked frightened.
As a matter of fact he was frightened himself. Such a
task as he had now to perform had never before been
allotted to him. A letter addressed to him, and enclosed
in the packet containing Helmsley's Last Will and Testa-
ment, had explained the whole situation, and had fully de-
scribed, with simple fidelity, the life his old friend had led
at Weircombe, and the affectionate care with which Mary
had tended him, while the conclusion of the letter was
worded in terms of touching farewell. " For," wrote
Helmsley, " when you read this, I shall be dead and in my
quiet grave at Weircombe. Let me rest there in peace,
for though my eyes will no more see the sun, or the kind-
ness in the eyes of the woman whose unselfish goodness has
been more than the sunshine to me, I shall or so I think
and hope be spiritually conscious that my mortal remains
are buried where humble and simple folk think well of me.
This last letter from my hand to you is one not of business
so much as friendship for I have learned that what we call
' business ' counts for very little, while the ties of sym-
pathy, confidence, and love between human beings are the
only forces that assist in the betterment of the world. And
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 407
so farewell ! Let the beloved angel who brings you these
last messages from me have all honour from you for my
sake. Yours, " DAVID HELMSLEY."
And now, to Sir Francis Vesey's deep concern, the " be-
ioved angel " thus spoken of sat opposite to him, moved by
evident alarm, her blue eyes full of tears, and her face
pale and scared. How was he to begin telling her what she
was bound to know?
" Yes I will I must endeavour to explain," he repeated,
bending his brows upon her and regaining something of his
self-control. " You, of course, were not aware I mean my
old friend never told you who he really was ? "
Her anxious look grew more wistful.
" No, and indeed I never asked," she said. " He was so
feeble when I took him to my home out of the storm, and
for weeks afterwards he was so dangerously ill, that I
thought questions might worry him. Besides it was not
my business to bother about where he came from. He was
just old and poor and friendless that was enough for me."
" I hope I do very much hope," said Sir Francis gently,
" that you will not allow yourself to be too much startled
or or overcome by what I have to tell you. David he
said his name was David, did he not? "
She made a sign of assent. A strange terror was creep-
ing upon her, and she could not speak.
" David yes ! that was quite right David was his
name," proceeded Sir Francis cautiously. " But he had
another name a surname which perhaps you may, or may
not have heard. That name was Helmsley "
She sprang up with a cry, remembering Angus Reay's
story about his first love, Lucy Sorrel, and her millionaire.
"Helmsley! Not David Helmsley!"
" Yes, David Helmsley ! The ' poor old tramp ' you
sheltered in your home, the friendless and penniless
stranger you cared for so unselfishly and tenderly, was one
of the richest men in the world ! "
She stood amazed, stricken as by a lightning shock.
" One of the richest men in the world ! " she faltered.
" One of the richest " and here, with a little stifled sob,
she wrung her hands together. " Oh no no ! That can't
be true ! He would never have deceived me ! "
Sir Francis felt an uncomfortable tightness in his throat.
408 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
The situation was embarrassing. He saw at once that she
was not so mucty affected by the announcement of the sup-
posed " poor " man's riches, as by the overwhelming thought
that he could have represented himself to her as any other
than he truly was.
" Sit down again, and let me tell you all," he said gently
" You will, I am sure, forgive him for the part he played
when you know his history. David Helmsley who was my
friend as well as my client for more than twenty years was
a fortunate man in the way of material prosperity, but he
was very unfortunate in his experience of human nature.
His vast wealth made it impossible for him to see much
more of men and women than was just enough to show him
their worst side. He was surrounded by people who sought
to use him and his great influence for their own selfish ends,
and the emotions and sentiments of life, such as love,
fidelity, kindness, and integrity, he seldom or never met
with among either his so-called ' friends ' or his acquaint-
ances. His wife was false to him, and his two sons brought
him nothing but shame and dishonour. They all three died
and then then in his old age he found himself alone in
the world without any one who loved him, or whom he
loved without any one to whom he could confidently leave
his enormous fortune, knowing it would be wisely and nobly
used. When I last saw him I urged upon him the necessity
of making his Will. He said he could not make it, as there
was no one living whom he cared to name as his heir. Then
he left London, ostensibly on a journey for his health."
Here Sir Francis paused, looking anxiously at his listener.
She was deadly pale, and every now and then her eyes
brimmed over with tears. " You can guess the rest," he
continued, " He took no one into his confidence as to
his intention, not even me. I understood he had gone
abroad till che other day a short time ago when I had
a letter from him telling me that he was passing through
Exeter."
She clasped and unclasped her hands nervously.
" Ah ! That was where he went when he told me he had
gone in search of work ! " she murmured " Oh, David,
David ! "
" He informed me then," proceeded Sir Francis, " that
he had made his Will. The Will is here," and he took
up a document lying on his desk " The manner of its
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 409
execution coincides precisely with the letter of instructions
received, as I say, from Exeter of course it will have to be
formally proved "
She lifted her eyes wonderingly.
" What is it to me ? " she said " I have nothing to do with
it. I have brought you the papers but I am sorry oh, so-
sorry to hear that he was not what he made himself out to
be ! I cannot think of him in the same way "
Sir Francis drew his chair closer to hers.
" Is it possible," he said " Is it possible, my dear Miss
Deane, that you do not understand ? "
She gazed at him candidly.
" Yes, of course I understand," she said " I understand
that he was a rich man who played the part of a poor one
to see if any one would care for him just for himself alone
and I I did care oh, I did care ! and now I feel as if
I couldn't care any more "
Her voice broke sobbingly, and Sir Francis Vesey grew
desperate.
" Don't cry ! " he said" Please don't cry ! I should not
be able to bear it ! You see I'm a business man " here he
took off his spectacles and rubbed them vigorously " and
my position is that of the late Mr. David Helmsley's solicitor.
In that position I am bound to tell you the straight truth
because I'm afraid you don't grasp it at all. It is a very
overwhelming thing for you, but all the same, I am sure,
quite sure, that my old friend had reason to rely confidently
upon your strength of character as well as upon your
affection for him "
She had checked her sobs and was looking at him steadily.
"And, therefore," he proceeded " referring again to my
own position that of the late David Helmsley's solicitor, it
is my duty to inform you that you, Mary Deane, are by his
last Will and Testament, the late David Helmsley's sole
heiress."
She started up in terror.
" Oh no, no ! not me ! " she cried.
" Everything which the late David Helmsley died pos-
sessed of, is left to you absolutely and unconditionally," went
on Sir Francis, speaking with slow and deliberate emphasis
" And even as he was one of the richest men, so you are
now one of the richest women in the world ! "
She turned deathly white, then suddenly, to his great
410 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
alarm and confusion, dropped on her knees before him,
clasping her hands in a passion of appeal.
" Oh, don't say that, sir ! " she exclaimed " Please, please
don't say it ! I cannot be rich I would not ! I should be
miserable I should indeed ! Oh, David, dear old David !
I'm sure he never wished to make me wretched he was
fond of me he was, really! And we were so happy and
peaceful in the cottage at home ! There was so little money,
but so much love ! Don't say I'm rich, sir ! or, if I am, let
me give it all away at once ! Let me give it to the starving
and sick people in this great city or please give it to them
for me, but don't, don't say that I must keep it myself ! I
could not bear it ! oh, I could not bear it ! Help me, oh, do
help me to give it all away and let me remain just as I am,
quite, quite poor ! "
CHAPTER XXIV
THERE was a moment's silence, broken only by the roar and
din of the London city traffic outside, which sounded like
the thunder of mighty wheels the wheels of a rolling world.
And then Sir Francis, gently taking Mary's hand in his own,
raised her from the ground.
" My dear," he said, huskily " You must not you
really must not give way ! See," and he took up a sealed
letter from among the documents on the desk, addressed
" To Mary " and handed it to her " my late friend asks
me in the last written words I have from him to give this to
you. I will leave you alone to read it. You will be quite
private in this room and no one will enter till you ring.
Here is the bell," and he indicated it " I think indeed I
am sure, when you understand everything, you will accept
the great responsibility which will now devolve upon you, in
as noble a spirit as that in which you accepted the care of
David Helmsley himself when you thought him no more
than what in very truth he was a lonely-hearted old man,
searching for what few of us ever find an unselfish love ! "
He left her then and like one in a dream, she opened and
read the letter he had given her a letter as beautiful and
wise and tender as ever the fondest father could have writ-
ten to the dearest of daughters. Everything was explained
in it everything made clear ; and gradually she realised the
natural, strong and pardonable craving of the rich, unloved
man, to seek out for himself some means whereby he might
leave all his world's gainings to one whose kindness to him
had not been measured by any knowledge of his wealth, but
which had been bestowed upon him solely for simple love's
sake. Every line Helmsley had written to her in this last
appeal to her tenderness, came from his very heart, and
went to her own heart again, moving her to the utmost
reverence, pity and affection. In his letter he enclosed a
paper with a list of bequests which he left to her charge.
" I could not name them in my Will," he wrote " as
this would have disclosed my identity but you, my dear,
will be more exact than the law in the payment of what I
411
412 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
have here set down as just. And, therefore, to you I leave
this duty."
First among these legacies came one of Ten Thousand
Pounds to " my old friend Sir Francis Vesey," and then
followed a long list of legacies to servants, secretaries, and
workpeople generally. The sum of Five Hundred Pounds
was to be paid to Miss Tranter, hostess of " The Trusty
Man," " for her kindness to me on the one night I passed
under her hospitable roof," and sums of Two Hundred
Pounds each were left to " Matthew Peke, Herb Gatherer,"
and Farmer Joltram, both these personages to be found
through the aforesaid Miss Tranter. Likewise a sum of
Two Hundred Pounds was to be paid to one " Meg Ross
believed to hold a farm near Watchett in Somerset." No
one that had served the poor " tramp " was forgotten by the
great millionaire ; a sum of Five Hundred Pounds was left
to John Bunce, " with grateful and affectionate thanks for
his constant care " and a final charge to Mary was the
placing of Fifty Thousand Pounds in trust for the benefit
of Weircombe, its Church, and its aged poor. The money
in bank notes, enclosed with the testator's last Will and
Testament, was to be given to Mary for her own immediate
use, and then came the following earnest request ; " I
desire that the sum of Half-a-crown, made up of coppers
and one sixpence, which will be found with these effects,
shall be enclosed in a casket of gold and inscribed with the
words ' The " surprise gift " collected by " Tom o' the
Gleam " for David Helmsley, when as a tramp on the road
he seemed to be in need of the charity and sympathy of his
fellow men and which to him was
MORE PRECIOUS THAN MANY MILLIONS.
And I request that the said casket containing these coins
may be retained by Mary Deane as a valued possession in her
family, to be handed down as a talisman and cornerstone of
fortune for herself and her heirs in perpetuity."
Finally the list of bequests ended with one sufficiently
unusual to be called eccentric. It ran thus : " To Angus
Reay I leave Mary Deane and with Her, all that I value,
and more than I have ever possessed ! "
Gradually, very gradually, Mary, sitting alone in Sir
Francis Vesey 's office, realised the whole position, gradu-
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 413
ally the trouble and excitation of her mind calmed down,
and her naturally even temperament reasserted itself. She
was rich, but though she tried to realise the fact, she could
not do so, till at last the thought of Angus and how she
might be able now to help him on with his career, roused a
sudden rush of energy within her which, however, was not
by any means actual happiness. A great weight seemed to
have fallen on her life and she was bowed down by its
heaviness. Kissing David Helmsley's letter, she put it in
her bosom, he had asked that its contents might be held
sacred, and that no eyes but her own should scan his last
words, and to her that request of a dead man was more than
the command of a living King. The list of bequests she held
in her hand ready to show Sir Francis Vesey when he en-
tered, which he did as soon as she touched the bell. He saw
that, though very pale, she was now comparatively calm and
collected, and as she raised her eyes and tried to smile at
him, he realised what a beautiful woman she was.
" Please forgive me for troubling you so much," she
said, gently " I am very sorry ! I understand it all now,
I have read David's letter, I shall always call him David,.
I think ! and I quite see how it all happened. I can't help
being sorry very sorry, that he has left his money to me
because it will be so difficult to know how to dispose of it
for the best. But surely a great deal of it will go in these
legacies," and she handed him the paper she held " You
see he names you first."
Sir Francis stared at the document, fairly startled and
overcome by his late friend's generosity, as well as by Mary's
naive candour.
" My dear Miss Deane," he began, with deep embarrass-
ment.
" You will tell me how to do everything, will you not ? ""
she interrupted him, with an air of pathetic entreaty " I
want to carry out all his wishes exactly as if he were beside
me, watching me I think " and her voice sank a little
" he may be here with us even now ! " She paused a
moment. " And if he is, he knows that I do not want
money for myself at all but that if I can do good with it,
for his sake and memory, I will. Is it a very great deal ? ' r
" Is it a great deal of money, you mean ? " he queried.
She nodded.
" I should say that at the very least my late friend's per-
414 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
sonal estate must be between six and seven millions of
pounds sterling."
She clasped her hands in dismay.
" Oh ! It is terrible ! " she said, in a low strained voice
" Surely God never meant one man to have so much
money ! "
" It was fairly earned," said Sir Francis, quietly
" David Helmsley, to my own knowledge, never wronged
or oppressed a single human being on his way to his own
success. His money is clean! There's no brother's blood
on the gold and no ' sweated ' labour at the back of it.
That I can vouch for that I can swear ! No curse will rest
on the fortune you inherit, Miss Deane for it was made
honestly ! "
Tears stood in her eyes, and she wiped them away
furtively.
" Poor David ! " she murmured " Poor lonely old man !
With all that wealth and no one to care for him ! Oh yes,
the more I think of it the more I understand it ! But now
there is only one thing for me to do I must get home as
quickly as possible and tell Angus " here she pointed to the
last paragraph in Helmsley's list of bequests " You see,"
she went on " he leaves Mary Deane that's me to Angus
Reay, ' and with Her all that I value.' I am engaged to be
married to Mr. Reay David wished very much to live till
our wedding-day "
She broke off, passing her hand across her brow and look-
ing puzzled.
" Mr. -Reay is very much to be congratulated ! " said
Sir Francis, gently.
She smiled rather sadly.
" Oh, I'm not sure of that," she said " He is a very
clever man he writes books, and he will be famous very
soon while I " She paused again, then went on, look-
ing very earnestly at Sir Francis " May I would you
write out something for me that I might sign before I go
away to-day, to make it sure that if I die, all that I have
including this terrible, terrible fortune shall come to Angus
Reay? You see anything might happen to me quite sud-
denly, the very train I am going back in to-night might
meet with some accident, and I might be killed and then
poor David's money would be lost, and his legacies never
paid. Don't you see that ? "
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 415
Sir Francis certainly saw it, but was not disposed to admit
its possibility.
" There is really no necessity to anticipate evil," he began.
" There is perhaps no necessity but I should like to be
sure, quite sure, that in case of such evil all was right," she
said, with great feeling " And I know you could do it for
me "
" Why, of course, if you insist upon it, I can draw you up
a form of Will in ten minutes," he said, smiling benevo-
lently " Would that satisfy you ? You have only to sign it,
and the thing is done."
It was wonderful to see how she rejoiced at this proposi-
tion, the eager delight with which she contemplated the
immediate disposal of the wealth she had not as yet touched,
to the man she loved best in the world and the swift
change in her manner from depression to joy, when Sir
Francis, just to put her mind at ease, drafted a concise form
of Will for her in his own handwriting, in which form she,
with the same precision as that of David Helmsley, left
" everything of which she died possessed, absolutely and
unconditionally," to her promised husband. With a smile
on her face and sparkling eyes, she signed this document in
the presence of two witnesses, clerks of the office called up
for the purpose, who, if it had been their business to express
astonishment, would undoubtedly have expressed it then.
" You will keep it here for me, won't you ? " she said,
when the clerks had retired and the business was con-
cluded " And I shall feel so much more at rest now I
For when I have talked it over with Angus I shall realise
everything more clearly he will advise me what to do he
is so much wiser than I am ! And you will write to me and
tell me all that is needful for me to know shall I leave this
paper?" and she held up the document in which the list
of Helmsley's various legacies was written " Surely you
ought to keep it ? "
Sir Francis smiled gravely.
" I think not ! " he said " I think I must urge you to
retain that paper on which my name is so generously re-
membered, in your own possession, Miss Deane. You un-
derstand, I suppose, that you are not by the law compelled
to pay any of these legacies. They are left entirely to your
own discretion. They merely represent the last purely per-
sonal wishes of my late friend, David Helmsley, and you
416 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
must yourself decide whether you consider it practical to
carry them out."
She looked surprised.
" But the personal wishes of the dead are more than any
law," she exclaimed " They are sacred. How could I "
and moved by a sudden impulse she laid her hand appeal-
ingly on his arm " How could I neglect or fail to fulfil any
one of them ? It would be impossible ! "
Responding to her earnest look and womanly gentleness,
Sir Francis, who had not forgotten the old courtesies once
practised by gentlemen to women whom they honoured,
raised the hand that rested so lightly on his arm, and
kissed it.
" I know," he said " that it would be impossible for you
to do what is not right and true and just! And you will
need no advice from me save such as is purely legal and
technical. Let me be your friend in these matters "
"And in others too," said Mary, sweetly " I do hope
you will not dislike me ! "
Dislike her? Well, well! If any mortal man, old or
young, could " dislike " a woman with a face like hers and
eyes so tender, such an one would have to be a criminal
or a madman! In a little while they fell into conversation
as naturally as if they had known each other for years : Sir
Francis listening with profound interest to the story of his
old friend's last days. And presently, despatching a tele-
gram to his wife to say that he was detained in the city by
pressing business, he took Mary out with him to a quiet little
restaurant, where he dined with her, and finally saw her
off from Paddington station by the midnight train for Mine-
head. Nothing would induce her to stay in London, her
one aim and object in life now was to return to Weircombe
and explain everything to Angus as quickly as possible.
And when the train had gone, Sir Francis left the platform
in a state of profound abstraction, and was driven home in
his brougham, feeling more like a sentimentalist than a
lawyer.
" Extraordinary ! " he ejaculated " The most extraor-
dinary thing I ever heard of in my life? But I knew I
felt that Helmsley would dispose of his wealth in quite an
unexpected way! Now I wonder how the man Mary
Deane's lover will take it? I wonder! But what a
woman she is! how beautiful! how simple and honest
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 417
above all how purely womanly! with all the sweet grace
and gentleness which alone commands, and ever will com-
mand man's adoration! Helmsley must have been very
much at peace and happy in his last days ! Yes ! the sor-
rowful ' king ' of many millions must have at last found the
treasure he sought and which he considered more precious
than all his money ! For Solomon was right : ' If a man
would give all the substance of his house for love, it would
be utterly contemned ! ' :
*******
At Weircombe next day there was a stiff gale of wind
blowing inland, and the village, with its garlands and pyra-
mids of summer blossom, was swept from end to end by
warm, swift, salty gusts, that bent the trees and shook the
flowers in half savage, half tender sportiveness, while the
sea, shaping itself by degrees into " wild horses " of blue
water bridled with foam, raced into the shore with ever-
increasing hurry and fury. But notwithstanding the strong
wind, there was a bright sun, and a dazzling blue sky, scat-
tered over with flying masses of cloud, like flocks of white
birds soaring swiftly to some far-off region of rest. Every-
thing in nature looked radiant and beautiful, health and
joy were exhaled from every breath of air and yet in one
place one pretty rose-embowered cottage, where, until now,
the spirit of content had held its happy habitation, a sudden
gloom had fallen, and a dark 'cloud had blotted out all the
sunshine. Mary's little " home sweet home " had been all
at once deprived of sweetness, and she sat within it like a
mournful castaway, clinging to the wreck of that which
had so long been her peace and safety. Tired out by her
long night journey and lack of sleep, she looked very white
and weary and ill and Angus Reay, sitting opposite to her,
looked scarcely less worn and weary than herself. He had
met her on her return from London at the Minehead station,
with all the ardour and eagerness of a lover and a boy,
and he had at once seen in her face that something unex-
pected had happened, something that had deeply affected
418 TPIE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
her though she had told him nothing, till on their arrival
home at the cottage, she was able to be quite alone with him.
Then he learned all. Then he knew that " old David " had
been no other than David Helmsley the millionaire, the
very man whom his first love, Lucy Sorrel, had schemed
and hoped to marry. And he realised and God alone knew
with what a passion of despair he realised it ! that Mary
his bonnie Mary his betrothed wife had been chosen to
inherit those very millions which had formerly stood be-
tween him and what he had then imagined to be his happi-
ness. And listening to the strange story, he had sunk deeper
and deeper into the Slough of Despond, and now sat rigidly
silent, with all the light gone out of his features, and all the
ardour quenched in his eyes. Mary looking at him, and
reading every expression in that dark beloved face, felt the
tears rising thickly in her throat, but bravely suppressed
them, and tried to smile.
" I knew you would be sorry when you heard all about
it, Angus," she said " I felt sure you would ! I wish it
had happened differently " Here she stopped, and tak-
ing up the little dog Charlie, settled him on her knee. He
was whimpering to be caressed, and she bent over his small
silky head to hide the burning drops that fell from her eyes
despite herself. " If it could only be altered ! but it can't
and the only thing to do is to give the money away to those
who need it as quickly as possible "
" Give it away ! " answered Angus, bitterly " Good God !
Why, to give away seven or eight millions of money in the
right quarters would occupy one man's lifetime ! "
His voice was harsh, and his hand clenched itself involun-
tarily as he spoke. She looked at him in a vague fear.
" No, Mary," he said " You can't give it away not as
you imagine. Besides, there is more than money there
is the millionaire's house his priceless pictures, his books
his yacht a thousand and one other things that he pos-
sessed, and which now belong to you. Oh Mary! I wish
to God I had never seen him ! "
She trembled.
" Then perhaps you and I would never have met," she
murmured.
" Better so ! " and rising, he paced restlessly up and down
the little kitchen " Better that I should never have loved
you, Mary, than be so parted from you! By money, too!
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 419
The last thing that should ever have come between us!
Money ! Curse it ! It has ruined my life ! "
She lifted her tear-wet eyes to his.
" What do you mean, Angus ? " she asked, gently
" Why do you talk of parting ? The money makes no dif-
ference to our love ! "
" No difference ? No difference ? Oh Mary, don't you
see ! " and he turned upon her a face white and drawn with
his inward anguish " Do you think can you imagine that
I would marry a woman with millions of money I a poor
devil, with nothing in the world to call my own, and no
means of livelihood save in my brain, which, after all, may
turn out to be quite of a worthless quality ! Do you think I
would live on your bounty? Do you think I would accept
money from you? Surely you know me better! Mary, I
love you ! I love you with my whole heart and soul ! but
I love you as the poor working woman whose work I hoped
to make easier, whose life it was my soul's purpose to make
happy but, you have everything you want in the world
now! and I I am no use to you! I can do nothing for
you nothing ! you are David Helmsley's heiress, and with
such wealth as he has left you, you might marry a prince of
the royal blood if you cared for princes are to be bought,
like anything else in the world's market! But you are not
of the world you never were and now now the world
will take you ! The world leaves nothing alone that has any
gold upon it ! "
She listened quietly to his passionate outburst. She was
deadly pale, and she pressed Charlie close against her
bosom, the little dog, she thought half vaguely, would love
her just as well whether she was rich or poor.
" How can the world take me, Angus ? " she said " Am
I not yours ? all yours ! and what has the world to do with
me? Do not speak in such a strange way you hurt
me "
" I know I hurt you ! " he said, stopping in his restless
walk and facing her " And I know I should always hurt
you now ! If David Helmsley had never crossed our path,
how happy we might have been "
She raised her hand reproachfully.
" Do not blame the poor old man, even in a thought,
Angus ! " she said " His dream his last hope was that
we two might be happy ! He brought us together, and
420 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
I am sure, quite sure, that he hoped we would do good
in the world with the money he has left us "
" Us ! " interrupted Angus, meaningly.
" Yes, surely us ! For am I not to be one with you ?
Oh Angus, be patient, be gentle! Think kindly of him
who meant so much kindness to those whom he loved in
his last days ! " She smothered a rising sob, and went on
entreatingly " He has forgotten no one who was friendly
to him and and Angus remember ! remember in that
paper I have shown to you that list of bequests, which he
has entrusted me to pay, he has left me to you,Angus ! me
with all I possess "
She broke off, startled by the sorrow in his eyes.
" It is a legacy I cannot accept ! " he said, hoarsely, his
voice trembling with suppressed emotion " I cannot take
it even though you, the most precious part of it, are the
dearest thing to me in the world ! I cannot ! This horrible
money has parted us, Mary ! More than that, it has robbed
me of my energy for work I cannot work without you
and I must give you up! Even if I could curb my pride
and sink my independence, and take money which I have not
earned, I should never be great as a writer never be
famous. For the need of patience and grit would be gone
I should have nothing to work for no object in view no
goal to attain. Don't you see how it is with me? And
so as things have turned out I must leave Weircombe at
once I must fight this business through by myself "
" Angus ! " and putting Charlie gently down, she rose
from her chair and came towards him, trembling " Do you
mean do you really mean that all is over between us?
that you will not marry me ? "
He looked at her straightly.
" I cannot ! " he said " Not if I am true to myself as a
man ! "
" You cannot be true to me, as a woman ? "
He caught her in his arms and held her there.
" Yes I can be so true to you, Mary, that as long as
I live I shall love you ! No other woman shall ever rest on
my heart here thus as you are resting now! I will
never kiss another woman's lips as I kiss yours now ! "
And he kissed her again and again " But, at the same time,
I will never live upon your wealth like a beggar on the
bounty of a queen! I will never accept a penny at your
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 421
hands! I will go away and work and if possible, will
make the fame I have dreamed of but I will never marry
you, Mary never ! That can never be ! " He clasped her
more closely and tenderly in his arms " Don't don't cry,
dear! You are tired with your long journey and and
with all the excitement and trouble. Lie down and rest
awhile and don't don't worry about me! You deserve
your fortune you will be happy with it by and by, when
you find out how much it can do for you, and what pleasures
you can have with it and life will be very bright for you
I'm sure it will! Mary don't cling to me, darling! it it
unmans me ! and I must be strong strong for your sake
and my own " here he gently detached her arms from
about his neck " Good-bye, dear ! you must you must let
me go ! God bless you ! "
As in a dream she felt him put her away from his em-
brace the cottage door opened and closed he was gone.
Vaguely she looked about her. There was a great sick-
ness at her heart her eyes ached, and her brain was giddy.
She was tired, very tired and hardly knowing what she
did, she crept like a beaten and wounded animal into the
room which had formerly been her own, but which she had
so long cheerfully resigned for Helmsley's occupation and
better comfort, and there she threw herself upon the bed
where he had died, and lay for a long time in a kind of
waking stupor.
" Oh, dear God, help me ! " she prayed " Help me to
bear it ! It is so hard so hard ! to have won the greatest
joy that life can give and then to lose it all ! "
She closed her eyes, they were hot and burning, and now
no tears relieved the pressure on her brain. By and by she
fell into a heavy slumber. As the afternoon wore slowly
away, Mrs. Twitt, on neighbourly thoughts intent, came up
to the cottage, eager to hear all the news concerning " old
David " but she found the kitchen deserted ; and peeping
into the bedroom adjoining, saw Mary lying there fast
asleep, with Charlie curled up beside her.
" She's just dead beat and tired out for sure! " and Mrs.
Twitt stole softly away again on tip-toe. " T would be
real cruel to wake her. I'll put a bit on the kitchen fire to
keep it going, and take myself off. There's plenty of time
to hear all the news to-morrow."
So, being left undisturbed, Mary slept on and on and
422 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
when she at last awoke it was quite dark. Dark save for
the glimmer of the moon which shone with a white vivid-
ness through the lattice window shedding on the room
something of the same ghostly light as on the night when
Helmsley died. She sat up, pressing her hands to her
throbbing temples, for a moment she hardly knew where
she was. Then, with a sudden rush of recollection, she
realised her surroundings and smiled. She was one of
the richest women in the world ! and without Angus one
of the poorest !
" But he does not need me so much as I need him ! " she
said aloud " A man has so many thing to live for ; but
a woman has only one love ! "
She rose from the bed, trembling a little. She thought
she saw " old David " standing near the door, how pale
and cold he seemed ! what a sorrow there was in his eyes !
She stretched out her arms to the fancied phantom.
" Don't, don't be unhappy, David dear ! " she said
" You meant all for the best I know I know ! But even
you, old as you were, tried to find some one to care for
you and you see surely in Heaven you see how hard it
is for me to have found that some one, and then to lose him !
But you must not grieve ! it will be all right ! "
Mechanically she smoothed her tumbled hair and taking
up Charlie from the bed where he was anxiously watching
her, she went into the kitchen. A small fire was burning
low and she lit the lamp and set it on the table. A gust
of wind rushed round the house, shaking the door and the
window, then swept away again with a plaintive cry, and
pausing to listen, she heard the low, thunderous boom of the
sea. Moving about almost automatically, she prepared
Charlie's supper and gave it to him, and slipping a length of
ribbon through his collar, tied him securely to a chair. The
little animal was intelligent enough to consider this an un-
usual proceeding on her part and as a consequence of the
impression it made upon his canine mind, refused to take his
food. She saw this but made no attempt to coax or per-
suade him. Opening a drawer in her oaken press, she took
out pen, ink, and paper, and sitting down at the table wrote
a letter. It was not a long letter for it was finished, put
in an envelope and sealed in less than ten minutes. Ad-
dressing it " To Angus " she left it close under the lamp
where the light might fall upon it. Then she looked around
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 423
her. Everything was very quiet. Charlie alone was rest-
less and sat on his tiny haunches, trembling nervously, re-
fusing to eat, and watching her every movement. She
stooped suddenly and kissed him then without hat or cloak,
went out, closing the cottage door behind her.
What a night it was ! What a scene of wild sky splen-
dour ! Overhead the moon, now at the full, raced through
clouds of pearl-grey, lightening to milky whiteness, and the
wind played among the trees as though with giant hands,
bending them to and fro like reeds, and rustling through
the foliage with a swishing sound like that of falling water.
The ripple of the hill-torrent was almost inaudible, over-
whelmed as it was by the roar of the gale and the low
thunder of the sea and Mary, going swiftly up the
" coombe " to the churchyard, was caught by the blast like
a leaf, and blown to and fro, till all her hair came tumbling
about her face and almost blinded her eyes. But she
scarcely heeded this. She was not conscious of the weather
she knew nothing of the hour. She saw the moon the
white, cold moon, staring at her now and then between pin-
nacles of cloud and whenever it gleamed whitely upon her
path, she thought of David Helmsley's dead face its still
smile its peacefully closed eyelids. And with that face
ever before her, she went to his grave. A humble grave
with the clods of earth still fresh and brown upon it the
chosen grave of " one of the richest men in the world ! "
She repeated this phrase over and over again to herself, not
knowing why she did so. Then she knelt down and tried
to pray, but could find no words save " O God, bless my
dear love, and make him happy ! " It was foolish to say
this so often, God would be tired of it, she thought dream-
ily but after all there was nothing else to pray for!
She rose, and stood a moment thinking then she said
aloud " Good-night, David ! Dear old David, you meant
to make me so happy ! Good-night ! Sleep well ! "
Something frightened her at this moment, a sound or a
shadow on the grass and she uttered a cry of terror. Then,
turning, she rushed out of the churchyard, and away away
up the hills, towards the rocks that overhung the sea.
Meanwhile, Angus Reay, feverish and miserable, had been
shut up in his one humble little room for hours, wrestling
with himself and trying to work out the way in which he
could best master and overcome what he chose to consider
the complete wreck of his life at what had promised to be
its highest point of happiness. He could not shake himself
free of the clinging touch of Mary's arms her lovely,
haunting blue eyes looked at him piteously out of the very
air. Never had she been to him so dear so unutterably
beloved ! never had she seemed so beautiful as now when
he felt that he must resign all claims of love upon her.
" For she will be sought after by many a better man than
myself," he said " Even rich men, who do not need her
millions, are likely to admire her and why should I stand
in her way? I, who haven't a penny to call my own! I
should be a coward if I kept her to her promise. For she
does not know yet she does not see what the possession of
Helmsley's millions will mean to her. And by and bye
when she does know she will change she will be grateful
to me for setting her free "
He paused, and the hot tears sprang to his eyes " No I
am wrong! Nothing will change Mary! She will always
be her sweet self pure and faithful! and she will do all
the good with Helmsley's money that he believed and hoped
she would. But I I must leave her to it ! "
Then the thought came to him that he had perhaps been
rough in speech to her that day abrupt in parting from her
even unkind in overwhelming her with the force of his
abnegation, when she was so tired with her journey so
worn out so weary looking. Acting on a sudden impulse,
he threw on his cap.
" I will go and say good-night to her," he said " For
the last time ! "
He strode swiftly up the village street and saw through
the cottage window that the lamp was lighted on the table.
He knocked at the door, but there was no answer save a tiny
querulous bark from Charlie. He tried the latch; it was
unfastened, and he entered. The first object he saw was
Charlie, tied to a chair, with a small saucer of untasted food
beside him. The little dog capered to the length of his rib-
bon, and mutely expressed the absence of his kind mistress,
while Angus, bewildered, looked round the deserted dwelling
in amazement. All at once his eyes caught sight of the letter
addressed to him, and he tore it open. It was very brief,
and ran thus
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 425
" My Dearest,
" When you read this, I shall be gone from you. I
am sorry, oh, so sorry, about the money but it is not
my fault that I did not know who old David was. I hope
now that everything will be right, when I am out of the
way. I did not tell you but before I left London I asked
the kind gentleman, Sir Francis Vesey, to let me make a will
in case any accident happened to me on my way home. He
arranged it all for me very quickly so that everything I
possess, including all the dreadful fortune that has parted
you from me, now belongs to you. And you will be a
great and famous man ; and I am sure you will get on much
better without me than with me for I am not clever, and
I should not understand how to live in the world as the
world likes to live. God bless you, darling! Thank you
for loving me, who am so unworthy of your love! Be
happy! David and I will perhaps be able to watch you
from ' the other side,' and we shall be proud of all you do.
For you will spend those terrible millions in good deeds that
must benefit all the world, I am sure. That is what I hoped
we might perhaps have done together but I see quite
plainly now that it is best you should be without me. My
love, whom I love so much more than I have ever dared to
say ! Good-bye ! MARY."
With a cry like that of a man in physical torture or
despair, Angus rushed out of the house.
" Mary ! Mary ! " he cried to the tumbling stream and
the moonlit sky. " Mary ! "
He paused. Just then the clock in the little church tower
struck ten. The village was asleep and there was no
sound of human life anywhere. The faint, subtle scent of
sweetbriar stole on the air as he stood in a trance of des-
perate uncertainty and as the delicate odour floated by,
a rush of tears came to his eyes.
' Mary ! " he called again" Mary ! "
Then all at once a fearful idea entered his brain that filled
him as it were with a mad panic. Rushing up the coombe,
he sprang across the torrent, and raced over the adjoining
hill, as though racing for life. Soon in front of him tow-
ered the " Giant's Castle " Rock, and he ran up its steep
ascent with an almost crazy speed. At the summit he
halted abruptly, looking keenly from side to side. Was
426 THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN
there any one there? No. There seemed to be no one.
Chilled with a nameless horror, he stood watching watch-
ing and listening to the crashing noise of the great billows
as they broke against the rocks below. He raised his eyes
to the heavens, and saw almost unseeingly a white
cloud break asunder and show a dark blue space between,
just an azure setting for one brilliant star that shone
out with a sudden flash like a signal. And then then he
caught sight of a dark crouching figure in the corner of
the rocky platform over-hanging the sea, a dear, familiar
figure that even while he looked, rose up and advanced to
the extreme edge with outstretched arms, its lovely hair
loosely flowing and flecked with glints of gold by the light
of the moon. Nearer, nearer to the very edge of the dizzy
height it moved and Angus, breathless with terror, and
fearing to utter a sound lest out of sudden alarm -it should
leap from its footing and be lost for ever, crept closer and
ever closer. Closer still, and he heard Mary's sweet voice
murmuring plaintively
" I wish I did not love him so dearly ! I wish the world
were not so beautiful ! I wish I could stay but I must
go I must go! " Here there was a little sobbing cry
" You are so deep and cruel, you sea ! you have drowned
so many brave men ! You will not be long in drowning
poor me, will you? I don't want to struggle with you!
Cover me up quickly and let me forget oh, no, no! Dear
God, don't let me forget Angus ! I want to remember him
always always ! "
She swayed towards the brink one second more and
then, with a swift strong clasp and passionate cry Angus
had caught her in her arms.
" Mary ! Mary, my love ! My wife ! Anything but that,
Mary ! Anything but that ! "
Heart to heart they stood, their arms entwined, clasp-
ing each other in a wild passion of tenderness, Angus
trembling in all his strong frame with the excitement and
horror of the past moment, and Mary sobbing out all her
weakness, weariness and gladness on his breast. Above
their heads the bright star shone, pendant between the snowy
wings of the dividing cloud, and the sound of the sea was
as a sacred psalm of jubilation in their ears.
" Thank God I came in time ! Thank God I have you
safe ! " and Angus drew her closer and yet closer into his
THE TREASURE OF HEAVEN 427
fervent embrace " Oh Mary, my darling ! sweetest of
women ! How could you think of leaving me ? What
should I have done without you ! Poverty or riches either
or neither I care not which ! But I cannot lose you, Mary !
I cannot let my heavenly treasure go! Nothing else mat-
ters in all the world I only want love and you ! "
THE END
