might only be a servant in father's house--I
would give all my love to a little bed of flowers."

"Father has no home now," said Rhoda.

"I know--I know. I am ready. I will submit, and then father will not be
ashamed to remain at the Farm. I am ready. Dear, I am ready. Rhoda, I
am ready. It is not much." She blew the candle out. "See. No one will do
that for me. We are not to live for ourselves. I have done wrong, and I
am going to be humble; yes, I am. I never was when I was happy, and that
proves I had no right to be happy. All I ask is for another night
with you. Why did we not lie down together and sleep? We can't sleep
now--it's day."

"Come and lie down with me for a few hours, my darling," said Rhoda.

While she was speaking, Dahlia drew the window-blind aside, to look out
once more upon the vacant, inexplicable daylight, and looked, and then
her head bent like the first thrust forward of a hawk's sighting quarry;
she spun round, her raised arms making a cramped, clapping motion.

"He is there."

CHAPTER XXXVI

At once Rhoda perceived that it was time for her to act. The name of
him who stood in the street below was written on her sister's face. She
started to her side, got possession of her hands, murmuring,--

"Come with me. You are to come with me. Don't speak. I know. I will go
down. Yes; you are to obey, and do what I tell you."

Dahlia's mouth opened, but like a child when it is warned not to cry,
she uttered a faint inward wailing, lost her ideas, and was passive in a
shuddering fit.

"What am I to do?" she said supplicatingly, as Rhoda led her to her
bedroom.

"Rest here. Be perfectly quiet. Trust everything to me. I am your
sister."

Leaving her under the spell of coldly-spoken words, Rhoda locked the
door on her. She was herself in great agitation, but nerved by deeper
anger there was no faltering in her movements. She went to the glass a
minute, as she tied her bonnet-strings under her chin, and pinned her
shawl. A night's vigil had not chased the bloom from her cheek, or the
swimming lustre from her dark eyes. Content that her aspect should
be seemly, she ran down the stairs, unfastened the bolts, and without
hesitation closed the door behind her. At the same instant, a gentleman
crossed the road. He asked whether Mrs. Ayrton lived in that house?
Rhoda's vision danced across his features, but she knew him unerringly
to be the cruel enemy.

"My sister, Dahlia Fleming, lives there