“Yes, yes; but are we not taught that works without faith are dead? Ah, I beg your pardon; indeed I do, my dear fellow. I spoke without thinking. I was thinking only of my poor Martin. Pray, forgive me. And is he happy, do you think?” “Yes, quite extraordinarily happy. He has fallen in love, too, with the same white ardour that he brings to everything which appeals to him.” Mr. Challoner considered this a moment, and then faced Frank. “I want your opinion, Lord Yorkshire,” he said. “Do you think that any good purpose would be served by my seeing Martin? I ask you for your candid opinion--whatever it is or implies.” “I think it depends entirely on yourself,” said Frank. “You mean,--ah, pray tell me quite straight out. I shall be very grateful.” Frank looked at him with real pity. What he was going to say seemed very cruel, but it seemed true. “I mean this, Mr. Challoner,” he said, “that if you are quite certain that the sight of Martin, or the possible issues into which talk may lead you, will not again embitter you against him, you had far better see him. Why not? There is all to be gained. But if your reconciliation cannot be complete, if there is a chance of your getting angry with him, and--frightening him--you had better not. You asked me to tell you straight.” “You think he is afraid of me? Has he told you?” “I cannot help knowing it. If he has told me, you must take my word for it that he has not told me in any disloyal way. And if I have hurt you, I am very sorry.” “No, I thank you for telling me,” said Mr. Challoner. “I think you are right. I am afraid it is better I should not see him yet.” He smiled rather sadly. “I am afraid I have a great deal to learn yet,” he said. “I must take myself in hand. But I dream about him, Lord Yorkshire, so often. And always almost in my dreams I say things to him that frighten him. Sometimes, it is true, we are great friends. Those are beautiful nights, and I thank God for them. I so long to see his dear face again.” “Those beautiful nights must find fulfilment in many beautiful days,” said Frank. “Yes; I hope that it is still possible. He was such a bright little fellow when he was small. Always quick, always laughing. I had many plans for him. I think all my life I have been rather too ready to push other people into places I think suitable.” * * * * * They had come to the far end of the terrace again, when from inside the vicarage the gong sounded for lunch. Frank’s back was towards the house, but the vicar, looking up, saw Helen, still hatless, coming towards them across the lawn. And all the happiness of the morning, when she saw these two together, all the spirit of spring, quivered and concentrated itself into one rose-coloured point of joy. That was the best moment to her in all the days of spring that were yet to come. “You will stay to lunch, Lord Yorkshire?” said he.