ck would certainly have done the best
possible. His faith in the Lad was all unshaken.

But the young man was not so hopeful about Miss Murray's verdict. She
had put Billy in his care, and it was but a sorry report he had to make
of her trust. He was wondering if he dared call at Rosemount and
explain his part in the case, when he met her in Willow Lane. It was a
clear wintry evening, and the pines cast long blue shadows across the
snowy road ahead. Roderick was hurrying home to take supper at the
farm, and Helen was coming out of the rough little path that led from
the Perkins' home. She was feeling tired and very sad. She had been
reading a letter from the husband in prison, a sorrowful pencilled
scrawl, pathetically misspelled, but breathing out true sympathy for
his wife and children, and the deepest repentance and self-blame. And
at the end of every misconstructed sentence like a wailing refrain were
the words, "I done wrong and I deserve all I got, but it's hard on you
old girl, and I thought that Old Angus's son might have got me off."

Whether right or wrong, Helen felt a sting of resentment, as she looked
up and saw Roderick swinging down the road towards her. He seemed so
big and comfortable in his long winter overcoat, so strong and capable,
and yet he had used his strength and skill against Billy. Her woman's
heart refused to see any justice in the case. She did not return the
radiant smile with which he greeted her. In spite of his fears, he
could not but be glad at the sight of her, with the rosy glow of the
sunset lighting up her sweet face and reflected in the gold of her hair.

"I was so sorry to have such news of Billy I was afraid to call," he
said as humbly as though it was he who had stolen and been committed to
prison.

"Oh, it's so sad I just can't bear it," she burst forth, the tears
filling her eyes. "Oh, couldn't you have done something, Mr. McRae?"

Roderick was overcome with dismay. "I--I--did all I could," he
stammered. "It was impossible to save him. He stole and he had to
bear the penalty."

"But you were on the other side," she cried vaguely but indignantly.
"I don't see how you could do it."

"But, Miss Murray!" cried Roderick, amazed at her unexpected vehemence.
"I was acting for the company I represent. It's unreasonable, if you
will pardon me for speaking so strongly, to expect I could sacrifice
their interests and allow the law to be broken." He was really
p