"Leave her to me!" commanded Nathaniel, and strode toward the prostrate form.
"You've lied first and last. Neither McAlpin nor any other honest man will have you! Go!"
"I will go and—my hate I leave with you!"
And when Theodora opened her eyes she was lying on the rough couch in the sunny kitchen, and Nathaniel was bathing her face with cool water.
"The child?" faltered the mother, looking pleadingly around. And then Nathaniel showed mercy, the only mercy in his power.
"She's gone to McAlpin. They leave for the States to-night. It's you and I alone now to the end of the way."
"Husband, husband! We've been hard on her; we've driven her to——"
"Hush, you! foolish one. Would you defy God? Each one of us walks the path our feet are set upon. 'Twas fore-ordained and her being ours makes no difference. Every light woman was—some one's, God knows—and with Him there be no respecter of persons."
"Oh! but if you had only been kinder. It seems as if we haven't gone beside her on her path. Couldn't we have drawn her from it—if we had expected different of her? Oh! I shall miss her sore. The loneliness, the loneliness with her out of the days and the long nights."
Theodora was weeping again desolately.