pped by him.

"No farther," was all that he said, and he was one who could have
interdicted men from advancing.

"Why may I not go by you?" said Rhoda, with a woman's affected
humbleness.

Robert joined his hands. "You go no farther, Miss Rhoda, unless you take
me with you."

"I shall not do that, Mr. Robert."

"Then you had better return home."

"Will you let me know what reasons you have for behaving in this manner
to me?"

"I'll let you know by-and-by," said Robert. "At present, You'll let the
stronger of the two have his way."

He had always been so meek and gentle and inoffensive, that her contempt
had enjoyed free play, and had never risen to anger; but violent anger
now surged against him, and she cried, "Do you dare to touch me?" trying
to force her passage by.

Robert caught her softly by the wrist. There stood at the same time a
full-statured strength of will in his eyes, under which her own fainted.

"Go back," he said; and she turned that he might not see her tears of
irritation and shame. He was treating her as a child; but it was to
herself alone that she could defend herself. She marvelled that when she
thought of an outspoken complaint against him, her conscience gave her
no support.

"Is there no freedom for a woman at all in this world?" Rhoda framed the
bitter question.

Rhoda went back as she had come. Algernon Blancove did the same. Between
them stood Robert, thinking, "Now I have made that girl hate me for
life."

It was in November that a letter, dated from London, reached the farm,
quickening Rhoda's blood anew. "I am alive," said Dahlia; and she said
little more, except that she was waiting to see her sister, and bade her
urgently to travel up alone. Her father consented to her doing so. After
a consultation with Robert, however, he determined to accompany her.

"She can't object to see me too," said the farmer; and Rhoda answered
"No." But her face was bronze to Robert when they took their departure.

CHAPTER X

Old Anthony was expecting them in London. It was now winter, and the
season for theatres; so, to show his brother-in-law the fun of a theatre
was one part of his projected hospitality, if Mr. Fleming should haply
take the hint that he must pay for himself.

Anthony had laid out money to welcome the farmer, and was shy and
fidgety as a girl who anticipates the visit of a promising youth, over
his fat goose for next day's dinner, and his shrimps for this day's