"You are not sorry to get back to our fields, Rhoda?" he said. "You'll see the primroses showing their pretty faces by-and-by. Ah, it seems but yesterday that you and Helen were filling your pinafores with them!" "Helen's winter has come before its time, father," answered Miss Farren, gravely. "Her wicked husband has made her life desolate." "And his own too," added the farmer, in a pitying tone. "That is as it should be," returned Rhoda, quickly. "He has escaped the punishment he merited; but there's satisfaction in knowing that God's justice will surely reach him." "Ay," murmured the farmer softly, "God's mercy will surely reach him." "God's favour is for those who walk uprightly," said Rhoda. "Ah, Rhoda, the mercy is granted before they learn to walk uprightly," replied her father. "It comes to those who have fallen and are ready to perish. There are few of us who can see ourselves in every criminal, as old Baxter did. And there are fewer still who can believe that a man may come out of the Slough of Despond cleaner than he went in." They turned towards the house, walking silently down the green slopes. Rhoda was angry and perplexed; what was the use of living a respectable life if sinners were to be highly esteemed? When she spoke again it was in a harsh tone. "Robert Clarris has found defenders, it seems! A man who has committed such a crime as his should scarcely be so lightly forgiven!" "There is one thing I'd have you remember, Rhoda," said the farmer, patiently, "and that is, the difference between falling into sin and living in sin. It's just the difference between the man who loves and hugs his disease and he who writhes under it, and longs to be cured." "Even supposing that this is Robert's first fault," continued Miss Farren, "there must have been a long course of unsteady walking before such a fall could be brought about." "Maybe not," her father responded. "Some men lose their characters, Rhoda, as others lose their lives, by being off their guard for one moment. And when you talk of God's justice, recollect that it means something very different from man's judgment. The Lord hates the sin worse than we do, but He knows what we can never know--the strength of the temptation." By that time the pair had descended the last slope, and were drawing near the cottage. The back-door stood open. Rhoda could see the red glow of the kitchen fire, and the outline of her mother's figure as she moved to and fro. It was a pleasant glimpse of household warmth and light, and it charmed her ill temper away. But she did not remember that there might be wanderers in the world at that moment--driven out into life's wilderness by sin--whose hearts would well-nigh break at this little glimpse of a home. She did not think of that awful sense of loss which crime must leave behind it. Perhaps that open house-door had suggested thoughts like these to the farmer, for he paused before they entered.