"I go to Cushion-Kate! If she wants anything of me she may come to me. I wouldn't like to tell you of all she tries to do to me on highway and byway." "And for that very reason go to her with me now. I know very well what that is--Landolin to Cushion-Kate;--but do not ask yourself now if you are doing too much--if you are lowering yourself. Come with me! Give me your hand. Come!" "Very well. I will go with you." It was quiet in the road; no one was to be seen while Landolin walked along with the judge's wife. She frequently looked at her companion, as if in fear that he might suddenly turn and run away; but he kept step with her, and only where the road and the meadow path met he stopped and said: "I should never have believed it if any one had told me that I should do this. But I do it for your sake; and Cushion-Kate may curse and insult me as she will. I will say nothing in return." "She will change for the better," said the judge's wife, confidently. CHAPTER LX. In the little house past which led the meadow path, Cushion-Kate sat at the table this Sunday afternoon. Before her lay the hymn-book, but it was not open. The old woman had rested her elbow on the table, and her left cheek lay on her bony hand; she was gazing out of the window before which the black elderberries glistened, and a young starling sang. For a long time she looked before her without moving, and a bitter smile passed over her hard features as she muttered: "He dares to go to the Lord's Table before the whole congregation. O Thou above! forgive me that I quarrel with Thee so. But even Thou art not as Thou wast in old times. Landolin should have stood before the church door in a penitent's dress. Yes, mother; you had to stand there with a straw wreath on your head, and thought that you must sink into the ground in shame; and you cursed the whole world; and I beneath your heart learned it then--there is nothing but sorrow and distress in my blood. O God, I pray for only one thing; let me not die before I have seen how this ends with Landolin. I cannot wait till the next world; I will not----" She took her hand from her cheek and listened; voices, steps, drew nearer; the wooden bolt of the house door was pushed back, and the room door opened. "Sit still, Kate," said the judge's wife; and behind her stood Landolin. The old woman opened her mouth, but she could not bring out a word. The judge's wife laid her hand on her shoulder, and said, "Kate! Here is the ex-bailiff; he wants to bring you rest and kindness, and everything that is beautiful and right. Now I beg you, take heart, and lighten your soul and his; he wants to take care of you as though you were his own mother." "His mother! I was a mother; I am called so no longer. Had there been, not twelve men, but twelve mothers, in court, they would have hanged him, and the ravens would have eaten his eyes and his fat cheeks."