And when the girl came home again, looking that weak that it seemed as if the world wasn't willing to stand under her, the father had taunted her with coming back to eat them up, and maybe bringing another mouth to feed. "So if she did the terrible shocking thing they're saying .... I don't know if she did, your Honour .... I don't know if she ever left the dairy loft from the minute I took her up to it until Cain the constable (may the Lord forgive him!) came dragging her down .... but if she did, it's like it was because the poor child was alone in the dark midnight, and out of herself entirely, and not knowing what she was doing, and perhaps freckened of what the old man would be saying in the morning." Stowell was silent. The old woman cried softly to herself for a moment and then said, "Nobody knows what that is, your Honour, except them that has gone through it." Then she wiped her eyes, one after another, and said she could not sleep "a wink on the night," lying in her white bed and thinking of Bessie where she was now. And having read "in class" last evening how the Lord heard the cry of Hagar for her son in the wilderness she had thought his Honour might hear her cry for her daughter. Stowell knew that his feelings as a man were getting the better of his duty as a Judge, so he tried to be severe with the old woman, telling her she had no right to come to him, and that he had done wrong to listen to her. "In fact I could not have received you at all but for one thing--I am not going to try your daughter's case." The old woman was appalled. "Do you mean, Sir, that you'll not be trying Bessie?" "No, Deemster Taubman will probably do so." At that the old woman broke into a flood of tears. "Aw dear! Aw dear! And me praying on my knees on the kitchen floor that the Lord would bring you back in time from London--someones being so hard on poor girls in trouble!" Again Stowell was silent, and for some moments nothing was heard but the woman's broken sobs. At length, unable to bear any longer the sight of the old mother's disappointment, he said he would do what he could for her. If he could not sit on her daughter's case he would write to Deemster Taubman, explaining her condition and describing her temptations. "God bless you for that," cried the old woman. And then Janet said it was time to go, his Honour being unwell. "May the Lord give him health and strength and long life, ma'am!" People were right when they were telling her he had his father's heart. He had too. She was going out of the room with hope kindled, when she said, "You must excuse a poor woman if she did wrong in coming to you, Sir." "We'll say no more about that now," said Stowell. "Go home and rest, mother." At that word the old woman broke down utterly. But after a moment her weak eyes shone and she said, "Bessie is not your quality, Sir, but if she gets off she'll write to thank you." "No, no! She must never do that," said Stowell.