ng,
after kissin' me at breakfast; and no more Dahly visible. And he
suspects--he more'n suspects. Farm's up for sale. Th' old farmer thinks
it's unbrotherly of me not to go and buy, and I can't make him see I
don't understand land: it's about like changeing sovereigns for lumps o'
clay, in my notions; and that ain't my taste. Long and the short
is--people down there at Wrexby and all round say you ain't married. He
ain't got a answer for 'em; it's cruel to hear, and crueller to think:
he's got no answer, poor old farmer! and he's obliged to go inter exile.
Farm's up for sale."

Anthony thumped with his foot conclusively.

"Say I'm not married!" said Dahlia, and a bad colour flushed her
countenance. "They say--I'm not married. I am--I am. It's false. It's
cruel of father to listen to them--wicked people! base--base people! I am
married, uncle. Tell father so, and don't let him sell the farm. Tell
him, I said I was married. I am. I'm respected. I have only a little
trouble, and I'm sure others have too. We all have. Tell father not to
leave. It breaks my heart. Oh! uncle, tell him that from me."

Dahlia gathered her shawl close, and set an irresolute hand upon her
bonnet strings, that moved as if it had forgotten its purpose. She could
say no more. She could only watch her uncle's face, to mark the effect of
what she had said.

Anthony nodded at vacancy. His eyebrows were up, and did not descend from
their elevation. "You see, your father wants assurances; he wants facts.
They're easy to give, if give 'em you can. Ah, there's a weddin' ring on
your finger, sure enough. Plain gold--and, Lord! how bony your fingers
ha' got, Dahly. If you are a sinner, you're a bony one now, and that
don't seem so bad to me. I don't accuse you, my dear. Perhaps I'd like to
see your husband's banker's book. But what your father hears, is--You've
gone wrong."

Dahlia smiled in a consummate simulation of scorn.

"And your father thinks that's true."

She smiled with an equal simulation of saddest pity.

"And he says this: 'Proof,' he says, 'proof's what I want, that she's an
honest woman.' He asks for you to clear yourself. He says, 'It's hard for
an old man'--these are his words 'it's hard for an old man to hear his
daughter called...'"

Anthony smacked his hand tight on his open mouth.

He was guiltless of any intended cruelty, and Dahlia's first impulse when
she had got her breath, was to soothe him. She took his hand. "Dear
fa