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 garland 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 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, Helmsley 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 happiness, he would gladly have lived half his life over again, working with every moment of it to add to her joy.