ddowson was not always truthful with her husband she had
absolute proof; whether that supported her fear of an intimacy between
Monica and Everard she was unable to determine. The grounds of
suspicion seemed to her very grave; so grave, that during her first day
or two in Cumberland she had all but renounced the hopes long secretly
fostered. She knew herself well enough to understand how jealousy might
wreck her life--even if it were only retrospective. If she married
Barfoot (forms or none--that question in no way touched this other),
she would demand of him a flawless faith. Her pride revolted against
the thought of possessing only a share in his devotion; the moment that
any faithlessness came to her knowledge she would leave him, perforce,
inevitably--and what miseries were then before her!

Was flawless faith possible to Everard Barfoot? His cousin would
ridicule the hope of any such thing--or so Rhoda believed. A
conventional woman would of course see the completest evidence of his
untrustworthiness in his dislike of legal marriage; but Rhoda knew the
idleness of this argument. If love did not hold him, assuredly the
forms of marriage could be no restraint upon Everard; married ten times
over, he would still deem himself absolutely free from any obligation
save that of love. Yet how did he think of that obligation? He might
hold it perfectly compatible with the indulgence of casual impulse. And
this (which she suspected to be the view of every man) Rhoda had no
power of tolerating. It must be all or nothing, whole faith or none
whatever.

* * *

In the afternoon she suffered from impatient expectancy. If Barfoot
came to-day--she imagined him somewhere in the neighbour hood,
approaching Seascale as the time of his appointment drew near--would he
call at her lodgings? The address she had not given him, but doubtless
he had obtained it from his cousin. Perhaps he would prefer to meet her
unexpectedly--not a difficult thing in this little place, with its
handful of residents and visitors. Certain it was she desired his
arrival. Her heart leapt with joy in the thought that this very evening
might bring him. She wished to study him under new conditions,
and--possibly--to talk with him even more frankly than ever yet, for
there would be opportunity enough.

About six o'clock a train coming from the south stopped at the station,
which was visible from Rhoda's sitting-room window. She had been
waiting for this moment.