y discomfited. He used such bad language that
Rhoda had no pity for him, and hearing her uncle style it "the London
tongue," she thought dispiritedly of Dahlia's having had to listen to it
through so long a season. Dahlia was not at home; but Mrs. Wicklow,
Anthony's landlady, undertook to make Rhoda comfortable, which operation
she began by praising dark young ladies over fair ones, at the same time
shaking Rhoda's arm that she might not fail to see a compliment was
intended. "This is our London way," she said. But Rhoda was most
disconcerted when she heard Mrs. Wicklow relate that her daughter and
Dahlia were out together, and say, that she had no doubt they had found
some pleasant and attentive gentleman for a companion, if they had not
gone purposely to meet one. Her thoughts of her sister were perplexed,
and London seemed a gigantic net around them both.

"Yes, that's the habit with the girls up here," said Anthony; "that's
what fine bonnets mean."

Rhoda dropped into a bitter depth of brooding. The savage nature of her
virgin pride was such that it gave her great suffering even to suppose
that a strange gentleman would dare to address her sister. She
half-fashioned the words on her lips that she had dreamed of a false
Zion, and was being righteously punished. By-and-by the landlady's
daughter returned home alone, saying, with a dreadful laugh, that Dahlia
had sent her for her Bible; but she would give no explanation of the
singular mission which had been entrusted to her, and she showed no
willingness to attempt to fulfil it, merely repeating, "Her Bible!" with
a vulgar exhibition of simulated scorn that caused Rhoda to shrink from
her, though she would gladly have poured out a multitude of questions in
the ear of one who had last been with her beloved. After a while, Mrs.
Wicklow looked at the clock, and instantly became overclouded with an
extreme gravity.

"Eleven! and she sent Mary Ann home for her Bible. This looks bad. I call
it hypocritical, the idea of mentioning the Bible. Now, if she had said
to Mary Ann, go and fetch any other book but a Bible!"

"It was mother's Bible," interposed Rhoda.

Mrs. Wicklow replied: "And I wish all young women to be as innocent as
you, my dear. You'll get you to bed. You're a dear, mild, sweet, good
young woman. I'm never deceived in character."

Vaunting her penetration, she accompanied Rhoda to Dahlia's chamber,
bidding her sleep speedily, or that when her sister came