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“The Lord taketh away,” said Parson Jack. “Blessed be the name of the Lord!”

Six weeks later the Rev. Clement Vyell was inducted into the living of Langona, vacant by the resignation of the Rev. John Flood. His first sermon announced that the church was to be restored without delay; that plans were even now being prepared by an eminent architect, and that, as soon as they arrived and were approved, tenders would be invited.

Mr. Vyell was in no hurry to take possession of the Parsonage; indeed, bachelor though he was, and professed ascetic, he decided that, to be habitable, it needed a wing and a new kitchen at the back. For the present he accepted his uncle’s invitation to use the hospitality, and the library, of Carwithiel. Parson Jack might give up possession at his own convenience. Nevertheless he gave it up at once, packed his few belongings, and hired a bedroom at the Widow Copping’s. It appeared that he, too, needed time to look about him.

And so he loitered about Langona until the architect’s plans were received, discussed, approved, and submitted to tender. A Bristol builder secured the contract.

The day after it was signed Parson Jack walked over to Carwithiel again, and asked leave to speak with Mr. Vyell. He wore his old working suit.

“I have come to ask a favour, sir,” said he, speaking humbly. “I hear that the contract for the church has been given to Miles & Co., of Bristol; and I would take it kindly if you recommended me to them as a workman.”

The new Vicar was taken by surprise, and showed it.

“I have picked up some knowledge of the work in these years,” Parson Jack explained timidly. “And I know the weak points in the old fabric better than most men. As for steadiness,” he wound up, “I only ask to be given a trial. You must discharge me the first time I give cause of complaint.”

“What on earth could I say to the man?” Mr. Vyell demanded that evening, when he discussed the application with his uncle.

“I hope you accepted?” said Sir Harry sharply.

“Ye-es, though I fear it was imprudent.”

“Fiddlestick! Speak a word for him to Miles; he won’t find a better workman.”

So Parson Jack stayed at Langona, and beheld his best dream take shape, though not at his command, and yet in part by his fashioning. Nay, even some measure of that personal pride for which he had once bargained was restored to him during the second year, on the day when the contractor– who shared the common knowledge of his past, but respected his unequalled knowledge of the old fabric and its weakness, his gentle ardour in learning, and his mild authority among the men–appointed him clerk of the works. In those days Parson Jack needed no man’s pity, for all day long he redeemed a debt and wrought into substance an ambition that yet grew purer–as few ambitions do–in taking substance. And with it he wove another dream which, in the intervals of labour, would draw him out of the churchyard and hold him at gaze there, with his eyes on the wedge of blue sea beyond the coombe.

From the hour of his fall no strong drink passed his lips. His was an almost desperate case, but he fought with two strong allies. It was as though the old church, rallying under his eyes for a new lease of life, put new blood into him, repaying his love. Also he had Dick’s letters.

“Upon my word,” said Sir Harry to his nephew, “I’ve a mind to put Flood into the living again when this business is over and you tire of your whim. I suppose there’s nothing to prevent it?”

There was nothing to prevent it; but as a reward it lay outside Parson Jack’s speculation, perhaps beyond his desire. His reward came to him on the afternoon when, having mounted a ladder beside the new east window, he looked over his shoulder and saw Parson Kendall entering the churchyard by the lych-gate, and ushering in a youngster–a mere boy still, but splendid in the uniform of a freshly blown naval cadet.

Parson Jack can scarcely be said to have risen to the occasion. “Hullo, Dick!” he said, descending the ladder and holding out his hand.

But the Rector, standing aside, made a better speech; though this, too, was short enough.

“God fulfils Himself in many ways,” said the Rector to himself.