d herself
for the thought, but she could not be just; she had the image of her
father plodding relentlessly over the burnt heath to the Hall, as
conceived by her agonized sensations in the morning, too vividly to be
just, though still she knew that her own indecision was to blame.

Master Gammon met them in the garden.

Pointing aloft, over the gateway, "That's down," he remarked, and
the three green front teeth of his quiet grin were stamped on the
impressionable vision of the girls in such a way that they looked at one
another with a bare bitter smile. Once it would have been mirth.

"Tell father," Dahlia said, when they were at the back doorway, and her
eyes sparkled piteously, and she bit on her underlip. Rhoda tried to
detain her; but Dahlia repeated, "Tell father," and in strength and in
will had become more than a match for her sister.

CHAPTER XLV

Rhoda spoke to her father from the doorway, with her hand upon the lock
of the door.

At first he paid little attention to her, and, when he did so, began
by saying that he hoped she knew that she was bound to have the young
squire, and did not intend to be prankish and wilful; because the young
squire was eager to settle affairs, that he might be settled himself.
"I don't deny it's honour to us, and it's a comfort," said the farmer.
"This is the first morning I've thought easily in my chair for years.
I'm sorry about Robert, who's a twice unlucky 'un; but you aimed at
something higher, I suppose."

Rhoda was prompted to say a word in self-defence, but refrained, and
again she told Dahlia's story, wondering that her father showed no
excitement of any kind. On the contrary, there was the dimple of one of
his voiceless chuckles moving about the hollow of one cheek, indicating
some slow contemplative action that was not unpleasant within. He said:
"Ah! well, it's very sad;--that is, if 'tis so," and no more, for a
time.

She discovered that he was referring to her uncle Anthony, concerning
whose fortunate position in the world, he was beginning to entertain
some doubts. "Or else," said the farmer, with a tap on his forehead,
"he's going here. It 'd be odd after all, if commercially, as he 'd call
it, his despised brother-in-law--and I say it in all kindness--should
turn out worth, not exactly millions, but worth a trifle."

The farmer nodded with an air of deprecating satisfaction.

Rhoda did not gain his ear until, as by an instinct, she perceived what