answered with
prompt good-nature, "I might have known. Your talk is just as
likely."

They met Antony as he entered the house, and their exclamations
embraced each other:

"Antony, my son! God bless you."

"Father! Why, father! This is a happy surprise!" and the young man put
his hands on his father's shoulders and kissed him.

"Is anything wrong, father?"

"Why not ask, is everything right? Right is as likely as wrong, is it
not? There is some one on the front gallery, waiting to see you. I am
going to the stable to look at your stock."

"Do. The horses are pretty good. I'll come to you in a few minutes.
Jim! Jim Laker! Here are the trout. Get us a good supper, as soon as
you can."

He was putting his rod and line in place, and hanging up his hat, as
he spoke. Peter lingered, and looked at him wistfully; until
Antony--running his fingers through his hair--turned to the front
door; then he said:

"As I told you, Antony, there is some one waiting to see you. I would
not forget that '_His compassions fail not_,' and that '_His mercy is
from everlasting to everlasting_.'"

The strange charge made Antony start, struck the blood into his face,
and set his heart beating wildly. He walked quickly to the front of
the house; and his eyes immediately fell on the slight, black-robed
figure of his wife. Rose had heard his approaching footsteps, and had
stood up to meet her fate. Her head was bare, her hands dropped, but
her eyes gazed straight at him. And there was a look in them, and in
the thin, pathetic face, that melted Antony's heart to tears. He went
towards her with open arms; but she lifted her hands, palms outward,
and cried:

"Oh, Antony! Let me say I am sorry, before you forgive me. So sorry!
so ashamed of the past! I have been nearly dead with shame and grief!
Can you forgive me? Will it be right to forgive me?"

"My dear one, I have forgot it all."

"No, no! You must first think of it all--think of everything I did
wrong--of every scornful word and act, of every unkindness, of every
time I made you ashamed of me. Is it right to forgive me? For I am
not good, I am only trying to be good; and perhaps I shall fail very
often. But God has spoken to me; and men and women have punished me on
every hand; and I love you. Yes, I love you so much, Antony, that if
you send me away I shall die of love and grief."

"You love me?"

"Yes, I love you."

"Then, my dear Rose, that is enough for all. We will bury e