But only disappointment and sorrowful surprise awaited her here. Farmer Teazel _was_ a thoroughly kind-hearted man, and very fond indeed of the little Lady Bride, whom he had known ever since her infancy. He loved to see her riding up to his farm on the pony of his own breeding and choosing. He was all smiles and kindness till her subject was broached, and then she found that there was a limit to his benevolence, and to the influence she had over him--a barrier like a ledge of hard rock against which her arguments rebounded helplessly. Saul Tresithny had sinned in a fashion the farmer could not forgive, and he had no pity upon misfortune deliberately run into by a man who has had every opportunity of knowing better. The fact that Saul had averted the attack upon his own homestead did not weigh with him here. He argued that Saul had had his revenge on his (the farmer’s) machines before this. The sturdy yeoman had his own grievance against Saul and his teaching, and was not disposed to be grateful for the other deliverance. No, Saul was a reprobate and a jail-bird, and he would have none of him. He had had enough of the mischief his tongue did before. It wasn’t in reason he should put up with it again. No, no; he was sorry to refuse Lady Bride anything; but ladies did not understand these things--did not understand the nature of great, ill-conditioned demi-gods (as he called it in his haste) such as Saul had become. It was no use talking to him of forgiveness and mercy. It would be time enough for that when the man had repented. He hadn’t ever learned that there was any call to forgive before the sinner was sorry. From all he heard, Saul wasn’t a bit humbled or penitent. It would only be the old trouble over again if he came back; the farmer would take care he had nothing more to do with such a fellow.