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The rich people's places are situated all about it, here and there at various miles of distance, but no one with money lives in Weircombe itself." "Yet every one seems happy," said Helmsley thoughtfully. "Oh, yes, every one not only seems, but is happy!" and the clergyman smiled. "They have the ordinary troubles that fall to the common lot, of course but they are none of them discontented.
'You may call that atheistical if you like, I said, 'It's a firm faith that will help to keep me straight, and that will hold me to the paths of right and truth without any crosses or candles. Then I told him that this little village of Weircombe, in its desire for simplicity in forms of devotion, was nearer heaven than he was.
He had so long been accustomed to shams that the open sincerity of the Weircombe villagers was almost confusing to his mind. Nobody seemed to have anything to conceal. Everybody knew, or seemed to know, all about everybody else's business. There were no bye-roads or corners in Weircombe. There was only one way out, to the sea. Height at the one end, width and depth at the other.
But "Giant's Castle" itself was merely the larger and loftier of the two towering rocks which guarded the sea-front of Weircombe village.
All at once the quaint little tower of Weircombe Church thrust its ivy-covered summit above the edge of the green slope which they were ascending, and another few steps showed the glittering reaches of the sunlit sea. Helmsley paused, and drew a deep breath. "I am thankful to see it all again!" he said.
Nevertheless, the death of "old David" created quite an atmosphere of mourning in Weircombe, though, had it been known that he was one of the world's famous millionaires, such kindly regret and compassion might have been lacking. As things were, he carried his triumph of love to the grave with him.
The winter now closed in apace, and though the foliage all about Weircombe was reluctant to fall, and kept its green, russet and gold tints well on into December, the high gales which blew in from the sea played havoc with the trembling leaves at last and brought them to the ground like the painted fragments of Summer's ruined temple.
And, even if she had, we may take it yes, I certainly think we may take it that she would not care to buy a husband. No no! Her marrying days are past." "She is a beautiful woman!" said Helmsley, quietly. "You think so? Well, well, David! We have got used to her in Weircombe, she seems to be a part of the village.
I've got it 'ere " And, referring to a much worn and battered old leather pocket-book, Twitt drew from it a soiled piece of paper, and read as follows Here lies All that is Mortal of CATHERINE TIMBS The Dearly Beloved Wife of Samuel Timbs of Weircombe. She Died At the Early Age of Forty-Nine Full of Virtues and Excellencies Which those who knew Her Deeply Deplore and NOW is in Heaven.
"For," wrote Helmsley, "when you read this, I shall be dead and in my quiet grave at Weircombe.