el. You charge me, deliberately, with being a
scoundrel, and I defend myself as best I can. You argue that the man
who would mislead an innocent girl and then cast her off is more likely
than not to be guilty in a case like this of Mrs. Widdowson, when
appearances are decidedly against him. There is only my word in each
instance. The question is--Will you accept my word?'

For a wonder, their privacy was threatened by the approach of two men
who were walking this way from Seascale. Voices in conversation caused
Rhoda to look round; Barfoot had already observed the strangers.

'Let us go up on to the higher sand,' he said.

Without reply Rhoda accompanied him, and for several minutes they
exchanged no word. The men, talking and laughing loudly, went by; they
seemed to be tourists of a kind that do not often trouble this quiet
spot on the coast; their cigars glowed in the dusk.

'After all this, what have you to say to me, Rhoda?'

'Will you please to give me your cousin's letter?' she said coldly.

'Here it is. Now you will go back to your lodgings, and sit with that
letter open before you half through the night. You will make yourself
unutterably wretched, and all for what?'

He felt himself once more in danger of weakness. Rhoda, in her haughty,
resentful mood, was very attractive to him. He was tempted to take her
in his arms, and kiss her until she softened, pleaded with him. He
wished to see her shed tears. But the voice in which she now spoke to
him was far enough from tearfulness.

'You must prove to me that you have been wrongly suspected.'

Ah, that was to be her line of conduct. She believed her power over him
was absolute. She stood on her dignity, would bring him to
supplication, would give him all the trouble she could before she
professed herself satisfied.

'How am I to prove it?' he asked bluntly.

'If there was nothing wrong between you and Mrs. Widdowson, there must
be some very simple explanation of her coming to your rooms and being
so anxious to see you.'

'And is it my business to discover that explanation?'

'Can it be mine?'

'It must either be yours, Rhoda, or no one's. I shall take no single
step in the matter.'

The battle was declared. Each stood at full height, pertinacious,
resolved on victory.

'You are putting yourself wildly in the wrong,' Everard continued. 'By
refusing to take my word you make it impossible for me to hope that we
could live together as we imagined.'