A letter addressed to him, and enclosed in the packet containing Helmsley's Last Will and Testament, had explained the whole situation, and had fully described, 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 kindness 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 sympathy, confidence, and love between human beings are the only forces that assist in the betterment of the world.

And 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 "beloved 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.