They struck you down like a blow--bronze statue

"I know what you wish, Alida," he replied sternly, "but I can't do it.  This is a case for justice.  This woman's son was the leader of that vile crowd that insulted you last night.  I can forgive his injuring me, but not the words he used about you.  Moreover, when I was alone and struggling to keep my home, Mrs. Weeks took part with her husband in imposing on me their fraud of a cousin and in tricking me out of honest money.  Any woman with a heart in her breast would have tried to help a man situated as I was.  No, it's a clear case of justice, and her son shall go to jail."
Mrs. Weeks wailed afresh at this final sentence.  Holcroft was amazed to see his wife drop on her knees beside his chair.  He raised her instantly. "Don't do such a thing as that," he said huskily.
Without removing her pleading eyes from his face she asked gently, "Who told us to forgive as we would be forgiven?  James, I shall be very unhappy if you don't grant this mother's prayer."
He tried to turn away, but she caught his hand and held his eyes with hers. "Alida," he said in strong agitation, "you heard the vile, false words that Timothy Weeks said last night.  They struck you down like a blow.  Can you forgive him?"
"Yes, and I plead with you to forgive him.  Grant me my wish, James; I shall be so much happier, and so will you."
"Well, Mrs. Weeks, now you know what kind of a woman your son came to insult.  You may tell your neighbors that there's one Christian in Oakville.  I yield to Mrs. Holcroft, and will take no further action in the affair if we are let alone."
Mrs. Weeks was not a bad woman at heart, and she had received a wholesome lesson.  She came and took Alida's hand as she said, "Yes, you are a Christian--a better woman than I've been, but I aint so mean and bad but what, when I see my fault, I am sorry and can ask forgiveness.  I do ask your forgiveness, Mr. Holcroft.  I've been ashamed of myself ever since you brought my cousin back.  I thought she would try, when she had the chance you gave her, but she seems to have no sense."
"There, there!  Let bygones be bygones," said the farmer in embarrassment. "I've surrendered.  Please don't say anything more."
"You've got a kind heart, in spite--"
"Oh, come now!  Please quit, or I'll begin to swear a little to keep up the reputation my neighbors have given me.  Go home and tell Tim to brace up and try to be a man.  When I say I'm done with a grudge, I AM done.  You and Mrs. Holcroft can talk all you like, but please excuse me," and with more than most men's horror of a scene, he escaped precipitately.