“I suppose it happened so,” he said. “I saw his mother with Friend Fairthorn. I only meant thee shouldn't be seen in company with young Potter, when thee could help it; thee knows what I mean.” “I don't think, father,” she slowly answered, “there is anything against Gilbert Potter's life or character, except that which is no just reproach to _him_.” “'The sins of the parents shall be visited upon the children, even to the third and fourth generation.' That is enough, Martha.” She went up to her room, meditating, with an earnestness almost equal to Gilbert's, upon this form of the world's injustice, which he was powerless to overcome. Her father shared it, and the fact did not surprise her; but her independent spirit had already ceased to be guided, in all things, by his views. She felt that the young man deserved the respect and admiration which he had inspired in her mind, and until a better reason could be discovered, she would continue so to regard him. The decision was reached rapidly, and then laid aside for any future necessity; she went down-stairs again in her usual quiet, cheerful mood. During her absence another conversation had taken place. Miss Betsy Lavender (who was a fast friend of Martha, and generally spent her Sundays at the Doctor's,) was sitting before the stove, drying her feet. She was silent until Martha left the room, when she suddenly exclaimed: “Doctor! Judge not that ye be not judged.” “Thee may think as thee pleases, Betsy,” said he, rather sharply: “it's thy nature, I believe, to take everybody's part.” “Put yourself in his place,” she continued,--“remember them that's in bonds as bound with 'em,--I disremember exackly how it goes, but no matter: I say your way a'n't right, and I'd say it seven times, if need be! There's no steadier nor better-doin' young fellow in these parts than Gilbert Potter. Ferris, down in Pennsbury, or Alf Barton, here, for that matter, a'n't to be put within a mile of him. I could say something in Mary Potter's behalf, too, but I won't: for there's Scribes and Pharisees about.” Dr. Deane did not notice this thrust: it was not his habit to get angry. “Put _thyself_ in _my_ place, Betsy,” he said. “He's a worthy young man, in some respects, I grant thee, but would thee like _thy_ daughter to be seen riding home beside him from Meeting? It's one thing speaking for thyself, and another for thy daughter.” “Thy daughter!” she repeated. “Old or young can't make any difference, as I see.” There was something else on her tongue, but she forcibly withheld the words. She would not exhaust her ammunition until there was both a chance and a necessity to do some execution. The next moment Martha reentered the room.