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 physical 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.