Page:Angels of Mons second edition.pdf/106

absolute perfection; and perhaps the perfect end and attaining of desire do not bring happiness here below.

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After 1880 Prebendary Duthoit and I rarely saw each other and rarely wrote. He was at rest among his roses by the quiet Wye and I was dashed to and fro in wilder waters. But each contrived at long intervals to let the other know that he was alive, and so I was not altogether surprised to see the Prebendary's queer, niggly writing on an envelope a week or two ago. He said he had heard a good deal of talk about . . . well, about a popular legend with which I am understood to be in some way concerned, and he thought that an odd experience of his might possibly interest me. I do not give the text of his letter, chiefly because it is full of Latin phrases which I might be called upon to translate.

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