How good you have been to me! and I have been so useless--so little of what I might have been." Penhallow rose, set a hand on Rivers's shoulder, seeing the sweat on his forehead and the appeal of the sad eyes turned up to meet his gaze.
"What," he said, "would our children have been without you?
God knows I have been a better man for your company, and the mills--the village--how can you fail to see what you have done--" "No--no--I am a failure.

It may be that the moods of self-reproach are morbid.

That too torments me.

Even to-day I was thinking of how Christ would have dealt with that miserable man, Peter Lamb, and how uncharitable I was, how crude, how void of sympathy--" "You--you--" said Penhallow, as he moved away.

"My own regret is that I did not turn him over to the law.