onest men. They've got a hundred things to
consider for our one. That's my experience, and I know something of the
best among 'em. The question is about this poor young fellow who's to
marry her to-day. Mr. Blancove talks of giving him a handsome sum--a
thousand pounds--and making him comfortable--"

"There!" Rhoda exclaimed, with a lightning face. "You don't see what he
is, after that? Oh!--" She paused, revolted.

"Will you let me run off to the young man, wherever he's to be found,
and put the case to him--that is, from Dahlia? And you know she doesn't
like the marriage overmuch, Rhoda. Perhaps he may think differently when
he comes to hear of things. As to Mr. Blancove, men change and change
when they're young. I mean, gentlemen. We must learn to forgive. Either
he's as clever as the devil, or he's a man in earnest, and deserves
pity. If you'd heard him!"

"My poor sister!" sighed Rhoda. The mentioning of money to be paid
had sickened and weakened her, as with the very physical taste of
degradation.

Hearing the sigh, Robert thought she had become subdued. Then Rhoda
said: "We are bound to this young man who loves my sister--bound to him
in honour: and Dahlia must esteem him, to have consented. As for the
other..." She waved the thought of his claim on her sister aside with a
quick shake of her head. "I rely on you to do this:--I will speak to Mr.
Blancove myself. He shall not see her there." She indicated the house.
"Go to my sister; and lose no time in taking her to your lodgings.
Father will not arrive till twelve. Wait and comfort her till I come,
and answer no questions. Robert," she gave him her hand gently, and,
looking sweetly, "if you will do this!"

"If I will!" cried Robert, transported by the hopeful tenderness. The
servant girl of the house had just opened the front door, intent on
scrubbing, and he passed in. Rhoda walked on to Edward.

CHAPTER XXXVII

A profound belief in the efficacy of his eloquence, when he chose
to expend it, was one of the principal supports of Edward's sense of
mastery; a secret sense belonging to certain men in every station
of life, and which is the staff of many an otherwise impressible and
fluctuating intellect. With this gift, if he trifled, or slid downward
in any direction, he could right himself easily, as he satisfactorily
conceived. It is a gift that may now and then be the ruin of promising
youths, though as a rule they find it helpful enough. Edward had