Duff, a little surprised, a little confused by this unexpected controversy, too much occupied with his own purpose not to be impatient with any digression, yet uncertain whether this strange digression might not serve his cause in the end, made answer, first fixing his eyes upon Lily, the little girl who knew no trouble: “I’m thinking that was a good part of it,” he said. “You had the most to do with bringing ill into the world; you should have the most to do with driving it out. But what do I care about women?” he cried. “It’s Helen I’m thinking of. There might never be such another, but there she is that could have done it, and would not lift her little finger. And now she will smile and send me away.” “He speaks,” cried Lily, “as if it were your responsibility and not his--as if you would be answerable!” “Oh,” said Helen in a hurried undertone, “and that is what I lie and think upon in the watches of the night. Will the Lord demand an account at my hands? Will he say: ‘Helen, where is thy brother?’ I that was maybe appointed for him to be his keeper, to take care of him, with all his hot blood and all his fancies that nobody understood but me!” Duff was walking impatiently about the room, not listening to what the two women spoke between themselves, and Lily was too much bewildered by this new view to make any answer, except by a brief exclamation: “It is like a coward to put the blame upon you!” “I would not shrink from it if I might bear it,” said Helen. “It’s not that. But to think it might be a man’s ruin that a poor frightened creature of a woman--no, a lassie, twenty years old, no more--could not see her duty. For there was no reason then. My mother was living, my father was a strong man. The boys had been unlucky, but me, I was free. And I let him go away. Oh, lay the wyte on me!” she said, clasping her hands. “Oh, lay the wyte on me!” Duff came suddenly to a stand-still before her, catching up something of what she said. “I’ll forgive you all that’s come and gone, and all that might have been, and the vows I’ve broken, and the little good I’ve ever done”--a tender light came over his dark face--“Helen, I’ll forgive you all my ruin, and we’ll gather up the fragments that are left, if you will but come with me now.” “Forgive her!” cried Lily, indignant.