We reached the farmhouse.

There was some one moving to meet white dishevelled, quivering Rachel.

There was a cry, smothered at once in the awful hush of the place, and Rachel fell, clasping her mother's knees.

I left them alone.

What sobbings and whisperings, what confession and forgiveness followed, God and his angels heard.
I went blindly into the hall, knowing nothing of what I did.