‘They have plenty of this world’s goods, child, with which to make themselves comfortable, and the peace of mind, let us hope, will come with time. She has a very kind brother and sister-in-law, who flew to her directly they heard the news of her husband’s death, and they will doubtless be her firm friends in the future. And she has three children, Rhoda, to look to for comfort. I am very glad of it, for she is a good woman and wife and mother, and, I am told, believed in him to the last.’ ‘Poor lady,’ sighed Rhoda, ‘how sad for her to find him worthless of her regard. The worst thing we can be called upon to bear is, to find our love has been thrown away.’ ‘As you threw yours away on me, Rhoda.’ ‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ she answered, colouring. ‘I shouldn’t have said it before you if I had.’ ‘But _I_ mean it, Rhoda. I have been a scoundrel to you. I never saw it more plainly than I do to-day, to find you hard at work, with this child crawling at your feet.’ ‘Don’t speak of it, Fred, please. It is past. Let the subject be tabooed between us. What are your plans? Tell me what you intend to do?’ ‘I am going to leave the country, Rhoda. I don’t wish to bring more discredit on my faith and family than I need, so I shall make my home in a new land, and never offend their sight or hearing again. I am penniless, as you know. Every farthing of my fine fortune has gone into the coffers of the Church. I can’t say I don’t regret it, for I do; but I must accept the loss as part of the penalty of not knowing my own mind.’ ‘Money does not make all the happiness of this world,’ said Rhoda, softly. ‘No, but a considerable portion of it. However, least said, in this case, soonest mended. Failing it, I must work with my hands for my daily bread, which, perhaps, will be all the better for me. I shall begin low, but shall hope to rise by-and-by. An old chum of mine has lent me sufficient money to take me out of the country and settle me down a bit, and I am going straight to another chum, who has a big ranch out in the Rocky Mountains, and who, I know, will find me some sort of work to do.’ ‘But, Fred--’ began Rhoda, eagerly. ‘Wait a minute, my dear. I have something more to say to you. I shall have to go, of course, any way, but you would make me so much happier if you would go with me.’ ‘_Go with you!_’ exclaimed Rhoda, looking up with startled eyes. ‘Yes, as my wife, of course. You didn’t suppose I was brute enough to add an insult to the wrong I have done you.’ ‘But, Fred, I am not worthy,’ cried the girl, with crimsoned cheeks.