"Poor darling Ruffie, it seems a sorry thing that his beautiful little presence should be the means of keeping up hatred and bitterness in your heart. Whatever his body may be, God in His mercy has given him great gifts of soul. Not only his charming, loving little personality which makes us all adore him, but in mental capacity and artistic genius. I believe he will do wonders with his pencil and paints if he lives to grow up. You have great reason to be proud of your boy. And his sweetness and cheery patience set us all an example of endurance and fortitude." Justin did not speak. He was gazing into the fire before him. Then he looked across at his wife. She was in a russet brown cloth tea-gown, with a little soft lace about her throat, and she was a picture of dainty sweetness and grace. "Perhaps," he said slowly as his gaze rested on her, "you will in time get me to believe again in woman's sincerity. I have had a bitter disillusion." "Yes, I can believe you have, but you are sufficiently a man of the world to know that there is every variety of woman, as well as every variety of man. If you happened to make a bad choice, that is your misfortune. Perhaps you were as little suited to her as she was to you. Forgive me for touching upon the subject, but sometimes it is better to talk a matter out, than let it fester inside into an unwholesome sore." "I dare say I was an exacting and intolerant husband," said Justin gloomily. "She hated this place, and I made her live here. Her friends were not mine, and I would not have some of them inside the house. We were like two snarling dogs on the same chain! Thank God, we only had four years of it, but it was hell for both of us for that time, and then, as you know, she took the law into her own hands and made a bolt." "Well," said Anstice slowly, "she left you three sweet children. For their sakes, forgive their mother and realize that you may have been hard and unyielding. We are so faulty ourselves, that we ought to bear with others' failings, but that seems an impossibility, does it not?" Little more was said between them, but Justin was softened by the talk, and Anstice noted that from that time he was less curt with his little girls. CHAPTER VI AN ERRAND OF MERCY SPRING was on its way. Justin seemed happy and content in his home. There was no talk of going off with his yacht. Occasionally he suggested a trip round the coast of Scotland with all of them on board, but Anstice was very doubtful of Ruffie's being able to stand it, and Justin would not hear of taking the girls without him. He would often take his little son up into the Fells in his basket chair on the pony. And to Ruffie, these expeditions were entrancing. One lovely sunny morning, they had mounted a considerable height, and stopped on the crest of a Fell to look over the lake and surrounding scenery. Ruffie's blue eyes blazed with fervour and delight. Then he drew a long breath: