"I wish he'd never come here, Nelly; I wish you and I had never seen him!" Nelly was so startled by the passionate tone that she jumped up from her seat. As she moved, somebody on the other side of the shock moved also. It was Mr. Channell. Rhoda turned her head in time to see him walking away. In an instant she realized that he had heard all, but she dared not think of the construction that would be put upon her outburst. Perhaps she had mortally offended her father's best friend; perhaps he would go away from them all for ever. "Oh, what a wretched woman I am!" she groaned, aloud. And then she saw that Nelly had run off after Ralph Channell. She rose slowly, and wandered back again to the cottage. The doors and windows were set wide open. Her mother sat peacefully knitting in the parlour, but Rhoda went straight upstairs to her own room. Nobody could do her any good just then. She wanted to be alone and get her senses together. Her head ached, and she had a dazed, helpless feeling of having cut herself off from everything comforting. So she sat down for a few minutes by the bedside, then got up, and fell suddenly on her knees. In her prayer she did not get much beyond telling God that she was miserable. It was rather an outpouring of sorrow than a plea for help. But it was her first heartfelt confession of utter weakness, and perhaps that was the best way of asking for strength. The stray sheep that falls helpless at the Shepherd's feet is sure to be folded in His arms and carried in His bosom. She could not go down and sit at the tea-table as usual, and no one came to disturb her in her solitude. But at last, when the shadows were lengthening over the fields, and the distant church-clock struck six, she heard a footstep on the stairs. The door opened softly, and her mother's face looked in. "May I come to you, Rhoda?" she asked, gently. "Yes, mother," Rhoda answered. "I know how shocked and hurt you must be," she added. "But, indeed, I couldn't help it." "O Rhoda," said Mrs. Farren, "we've all thought you seemed stern and strange lately, but we didn't know until to-day that you had found out our secret. _He_ says that it has been all wrong from the beginning; he thinks you ought to have heard the truth at once." "The truth, mother?" echoed Rhoda. "What is it that you mean?" "He says, dear Rhoda, that he ought to have told you who he was," Mrs. Farren replied. "He sees now that it was wrong to come here under a new name." "A new name!" her daughter repeated. "For pity's sake, mother, speak plainly. Who is he, if he is not Ralph Channell?" "We all thought you must have found out," said Mrs. Farren, in a perplexed tone. "He is poor Helen's husband--Robert Clarris."