Legally, man's law backed him up in the position he had taken. But where did God's law come in? He knew his Bible fairly well. He was a regular church-goer, and followed the lessons Sunday by Sunday with great diligence. And he felt, with a poignant sense of alarm, that Jesus Christ would condemn what he had done. There was no glimmer of the golden rule to be discerned in his conduct. He had not acted generously, nor even neighbourly. He had extorted the uttermost farthing, not because he had any moral claim to it, but because laws which men had made gave him the right. He was so excited that his mind worked much more rapidly than was usual with him. He recalled again Ralph Penlogan's words about God punishing him and their being quits. He disliked that young man. He ought to have kicked him out of the house before he had time to utter his insults. But he had not done so, and somehow his words had stuck. He wished it was the son who had died instead of the father. David Penlogan, in spite of his opinions and politics, was a mild and harmless individual; he would not hurt his greatest enemy if he had the chance. But he was not so sure of the son. He had a bolder and a fiercer nature, and if he had the chance he might take the law into his own hands. The door opened while these thoughts were passing through his mind, and his daughter stood before him. He stopped suddenly in his walk, and his hard face softened. "Oh, father, I've heard such a dreadful piece of news," she said, "that I could not help coming to tell you!" "Dreadful news, Dorothy?" he questioned, in a tone of alarm. "Well, it seems dreadful to me," she went on. "You heard about the Penlogans being turned out of house and home, of course?" "I heard that he had to leave his farm," he said shortly. "Well, the trouble has killed him--broken his heart, people say. He had a stroke yesterday morning, and now he's dead." "Well, people must die some day," he said, with averted eyes. "Yes, that is true. But I think if I were in Lord St. Goram's place I should feel very unhappy." "Why should Lord St. Goram feel unhappy?" "Well, because he profited by the poor man's misfortune." "What do you know about it?" he snapped almost angrily. "Only what Ralph Penlogan told me." "What, that young rascal who refused to open the gate for you?" "That was just as much my fault as his, and he has apologised very handsomely since." "I am surprised, Dorothy, that you condescend to speak to such people," he said severely. "I don't know why you should, father. He is well educated, and has been brought up, as you know, quite respectably." "Educated beyond his station. It's a mistake, and will lead to trouble in the long-run. But what did he say to you?"