to my old self under it--hath made me to live. Therefore I publicly acknowledge my sin, and bid you, my fellow pilgrims, deal with me as you see fit, neither asking for mercy, nor in any wise claiming it as my desert." Stephen Hopkins had bent forward, his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands. Giles stared straight before him, his brow dark red, frowning till his face was drawn out of likeness to itself, his nether lip held tight in his teeth. Poor Constance hid her misery in Oceanus's breast, holding the baby close up against her so that no one could see her face. Little Damaris, pale and quiet, too frightened to move or fully to breathe, clutched Constance's arm, not understanding what was going forward, but knowing that whatever it was it distressed everyone that constituted her little world, and suffering under this knowledge. "My friends," Elder Brewster resumed his office, "you have heard what Mistress Hopkins hath spoken. It is not for us to deny pardon to her. She hath done all, and more than was required of her, in publicly confessing her wrong. Let us take her by the hand, and let us pray that she may live long to shed peace and joy upon the young people whom she hath wronged, and might have wronged further, had not repentance found her." One by one these severely stern people of Plymouth arose and, passing before Mistress Hopkins, took her hand, and said: "Sister, we rejoice with you." Or some said: "Be of good consolation, and Heaven's blessing be upon you." A few merely shook her hand and passed on. Before many had thus filed past, Myles Standish leaped to his feet and cried: "Stephen, Stephen Hopkins, come! There's a wild cat somewhere!" Stephen Hopkins went out after him, thankful to escape. "Poor old comrade," said Captain Standish, putting his hand on the other's shoulder. "If only good and sincere people would consider what these scenes, which relieve their nerves, cost others! There is a wild cat somewhere; I did not lie for thee, Stephen, but in good sooth I've no mortal idea where it may be!" He laughed, and Stephen Hopkins smiled. "You are a good comrade, Myles, and we are as like as two peas in a pod. Certes, we find this Plymouth pod tight quarters, do we not, at least at times? I've no liking for airing private grievances in public: to my mind they belong between us and the Lord!--but plainly my wife sees this as the right way. What think you, Myles? Is it going to be better henceforward?" he said.