I shook my head. "I doubt if even she could help me now. Even if she came back--which she never will--things could never be the same between us as they used to be. I haven't forgiven her--I cannot forgive her--and I couldn't live with her and be at enmity with her at the same time. Life would be unendurable in such circumstances." Arthur smoked in silence for some minutes: then he said: "Is that why you have never come to Holy Communion now?" "Yes. I cannot say that I am in love and charity with my neighbours as long as I haven't forgiven Fay and Frank. But I haven't; and I don't feel as if I ever could; and I cannot take the Blessed Sacrament until I do. That is another thing I owe to Frank," I added bitterly; "he has cut me off from the means of grace as well as from the hope of glory. For the more I think of it the more I am convinced that it was entirely his doing that Fay left me." Again Arthur smoked for some time in silence, and then he said: "I think you are right, Reggie: you are beyond my help altogether, and if I stayed on here I shouldn't do you any good." "I am past all human help," I replied. "Yes, I think you are," said Arthur in his slow way; "but human help doesn't count for much after all. There's plenty of the Other Sort left--more than you or anybody else can ever need." "Not for me: I have forfeited my claim to it," I groaned in the anguish of my heart, as I remembered how I had cried in vain by old Parkins's sick bed for the Help That never came. Arthur did not speak, but he smiled the smile that I used to see on my mother's face when I was a little boy, and on Fay's in the days when I was pretending that I didn't love her--a smile which said as plainly as if it had been put into words: "You don't know what you are talking about," but said it with a tenderness that it was beyond the power of any words to express. I think the ruler of the synagogue must have seen that same Smile--intensified a thousandfold--when his servants met him and said: "Thy daughter is dead: why trouble thou the Master any further": and the Answer came: "Be not afraid: only believe." CHAPTER XIX A SURPRISE So Arthur Blathwayte was made Dean of Lowchester, and at once began his preparations for vacating Restham Rectory; while his promotion gradually subsided from a nine days' wonder into an ordinary and commonplace event. But there was still a greater surprise in store for me and for Restham. Annabel came into the library one morning with the ominous words: "I've got something to say to you, Reggie." I looked up from the letter I was writing, and wondered indifferently what fresh vexation was in store. Nothing had any longer the power to vex me very much: but I could guess from Annabel's expression that something was coming which would vex me as much as it was able. "Well, what is it?" I asked. Annabel remained standing opposite to me on the other side of the writing-table.