nk, and stripped off his coat for her seating. She said, 'No, no,'
but she yielded.

'You thought me dead?' he asked.

She sat dumb and stupid, worn out in body and mind.

'Do you hold _me_ to blame?'

Still she did not speak.

'Rhoda, O Rhoda, I cannot bear this! Has that devil Christian taught
you?'

Rhoda rose up with an indignant cry. Then she steadied her voice and
spoke.

'The name of Christian I love, honour, reverence, above all names on
earth. You are not worthy even to utter it. Betake you, with your lies,
your slanders, your suspicions, to others ready to suspect and slander
and lie--not to me, who till I die can trust him utterly.'

She turned and went. Philip stood.

'Is he dead?' he said to himself. 'He is dead. He must be dead.'

Awe and compassion alone possessed him. To his credit be it said, not one
selfish consideration had a place then. Quick wits told him that Rhoda
had inadvertently implied more than she would. He overtook her hastily.

'Hear me! I will not offend. I will not utter a word against him.'

He spoke very gently, very humbly, because of his great compassion; and
truly, Christian dead, it were not so hard to forgo rancour. But Rhoda
went on.

'You must hear what I come to tell you before you reach home. Do you
think I have been watching and praying for your return these hours, only
to gird at Christian? For his mother's sake I came, and to warn you----'

She stopped. 'What is it? What is it? Say quick.'

'Nothing that you fear--nothing I can name. Hear me out!

'Last night I came back, and told, in part, what had befallen me; and
heard, in part, what had befallen Christian. To-day, one thrust in upon
his mother, open-mouthed, with ugly hints. She came to me straight and
asked for the whole truth. Rhoda, I swear I said nothing but bare truth,
mere plain, unvarnished fact, without one extravagant word; but her face
went grey and stony as she heard--oh! grey and stony it went; and when I
asked her to forgive me--I did, Rhoda, though what wrong had I done?--she
answered with her speech gone suddenly imperfect.'

Rhoda pressed forward, then stopped again--

'What did you tell her? I must know that.'

Philip hesitated: 'Then against Christian I must speak in substance,
however I choose my words.'

'Go on--go on!'

So Philip told, as justly and truly as he could, all he might.

'Was this,' put in Rhoda, 'off the Isle Sinister?'

'Yes.'

She heard all the tale: of