"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 something 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.