Another great pleasure, too, he found in the occasional and entirely unobtrusive visits of the parson of the little parish--a weak and ailing man physically, but in soul and intellect exceptionally strong.

As different from the Reverend Mr.Arbroath as an old-time Crusader would be from a modern jockey, he recognised the sacred character of his mission as an ordained minister of Christ, and performed that mission simply and faithfully.

He would sit by Helmsley's chair of a summer afternoon and talk with him as friend to friend--it made no difference to him that to all appearances the old man was poor and dependent on Mary Deane's bounty, and that his former life was, to him, the clergyman, a sealed book; he was there to cheer and to comfort, not to inquire, reproach, or condemn.

He was the cheeriest of companions, and the most hopeful of believers.
"If all clergymen were like you, sir," said Helmsley to him one day, "there would be no atheists!" The good man reddened at the compliment, as though he had been accused of a crime.
"You think too kindly of my efforts," he said gently.

"I only speak to you as I would wish others to speak to me." "'For this is the Law and the Prophets!'" murmured Helmsley.