The old man grinned with gratified pride.  The white hand lighted the pipe, and gave it to the old soldier.  He smiled gratefully all round and sucked his homely consolation.

“I compound with you, corporal.  You must let me put you on the road to heaven, and, in return, I must let you go there in a cloud of tobacco—­ugh!”

“I’m agreeable, sir,” said Giles dryly, withdrawing his pipe for a moment.

“There,” said Mr. Eden, closing the marked Testament, “read often in this book.  Read first the verses I have marked, for these very verses have dropped comfort on the poor, the aged and the distressed for more than eighteen hundred years, and will till time shall be no more.  And now good-by, and God bless you.”

“God bless you, sir, wherever you go!” cried the old man with sudden energy, “for you have comforted my poor old heart.  I feel as I han’t felt this many a day.  Your words are like the bugles sounding a charge all down the line.  You must go, I suppose; but do ye come again and see me.  And, Miss Merton, you never come to see me now, as you used.”

“Miss Merton has her occupations like the rest of us,” said Mr. Eden quickly; “but she will come to see you—­won’t she?”

“Oh, yes, sir!” replied Susan, hastily.  So then they returned to the farm, for Mr. Eden’s horse was in the stable.  At the door they found Mr. Merton.

“This is father, sir.  Father, this is Mr. Eden, that is coming to take the duty here for a while.”

After the ordinary civilities Susan drew her father aside, and, exchanging a few words with him, disappeared into the house.  As Mr. Eden was mounting his horse, Mr. Merton came forward and invited him to stay at his house whenever he should come to the parish.  Mr. Eden hesitated.

“Sir,” said the farmer, “you will find no lodgings comfortable within a mile of the church, and we have a large house not half occupied.  You can make yourself quite at home.”

“I am much obliged to you, Mr. Merton, but must not trespass too far upon your courtesy.”

“Well, sir,” replied the farmer, “we shall feel proud if you can put up with the like of us.”

“I will come.  I am much obliged to you, sir, and to your daughter.”

He mounted his horse and bade the farmer good morning.  Susan came out and stood on the steps and curtsied low—­rustic fashion—­but with a grace of her own.  He took off his hat to her as he rode out of the gate, gave her a sweet, bright smile of adieu, and went down the lane fourteen miles an hour.  Old Giles was seated outside his own door with a pipe and a book.  At the sound of horses’ feet he looked up and recognized his visitor, whom he had seen pass in the morning.  He rose up erect and saluted him, by bringing his thumb with a military wave to his forehead.  Mr. Eden saluted him in the same manner, but without stopping.  The old soldier sat down again and read and smoked.  The pipe ended—­that solace was not of an immortal kind—­but the book remained; he read it calmly but earnestly in the warm air till day declined.