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," she said.

"Then, you are Rhoda?"

"My name is Rhoda."

"Mine--I fear it will not give you pleasure to hear it--is Edward

Blancove. I returned late last night from abroad."

She walked to a distance, out of hearing and out of sight of the house,

and he silently followed. The streets were empty, save for the solitary

footing of an early workman going to his labour.

She stopped, and he said, "I hope your sister is well."

"She is quite well."

"Thank heaven for that! I heard of some illness."

"She has quite recovered."

"Did she--tell me the truth--did she get a letter that I sent two days

ago, to her? It was addressed to 'Miss Fleming, Wrexby, Kent, England.'

Did it reach her?"

"I have not seen it."

"I wrote," said Edward.

His scrutiny of her features was not reassuring to him. But he had a

side-thought, prompted by admiration of her perfect build of figure, her

succinct expression of countenance, and her equable manner of speech: to

the effect, that the true English yeomanry can breed consummate women.

Perhaps--who knows? even resolute human nature is the stronger for an

added knot--it approved the resolution he had formed, or stamped with a

justification the series of wild impulses, the remorse, and the returned

tenderness and manliness which had brought him to that spot.

"You know me, do you not?" he said.

"Yes," she answered shortly.

"I wish to see Dahlia."

"You cannot."

"Not immediately, of course. But when she has risen later in the morning.

If she has received my letter, she will, she must see me."

"No, not later; not at all," said Rhoda.

"Not at all? Why not?"

Rhoda controlled the surging of her blood for a vehement reply; saying

simply, "You will not see her."

"My child, I must."

"I am not a child, and I say what I mean."

"But why am I not to see her? Do you pretend that it is her wish not to

see me? You can't. I know her perfectly. She is gentleness itself."

"Yes; you know that," said Rhoda, with a level flash of her eyes, and

confronting him in a way so rarely distinguishing girls of her class,

that he began to wonder and to ache with an apprehension.

"She has not changed? Rhoda--for we used to talk of you so often! You

will think better of me, by-and-by.

"Naturally enough, you detest me at present. I have been a brute. I can't

explain it, and I don't excuse myself. I state the fact to you--her

sister. My desire is to make up for the past. Will you take a message to

her from me?"

"I will not."

"You are particularly positive."

Remarks touching herself Rhoda passed by.

"Why are you so decided?" he said more urgently. "I know I have deeply

offended and hurt you. I wish, and intend to repair the wrong to the

utmost of my power. Surely it's mere silly vindictiveness on your part to

seek to thwart me. Go to her; say I am here. At all events, let it be her

choice not to see me, if I am to be rejected at the door. She can't have

had my letter. Will you do that much?"

"She knows that you are here; she has seen you."

"Has seen me?" Edward drew in his breath sharply. "Well? and she sends

you out to me?"

Rhoda did not answer. She was strongly tempted to belie Dahlia's frame of

mind.

"She does send you to speak to me," Edward insisted.

"She knows that I have come."

"And you will not take one message in?"

"I will take no message from you."

"You hate me, do you not?"

Again she controlled the violent shock of her heart to give him hard

speech. He went on:--

"Whether you hate me or not is beside the matter. It lies between Dahlia

and me. I will see her. When I determine, I allow of no obstacles, not

even of wrong-headed girls. First, let me ask, is your father in London?"

Rhoda threw a masculine meaning into her eyes.

"Do not come before him, I advise you."

"If," said Edward, with almost womanly softness, "you could know what I

have passed through in the last eight-and-forty hours, you would

understand that I am equal to any meeting; though, to speak truth, I

would rather not see him until I have done what I mean to do. Will you be

persuaded? Do you suppose that I have ceased to love your sister?"

This, her execrated word, coming from his mouth, vanquished her

self-possession.

"Are you cold?" he said, seeing the ripple of a trembling run over her.

"I am not cold. I cannot remain here." Rhoda tightened her intertwisting

fingers across under her bosom. "Don't try to kill my sister outright.

She's the ghost of what she was. Be so good as to go. She will soon be

out of your reach. You will have to kill me first, if you get near her.

Never! you never shall. You have lied to her--brought disgrace on her poor

head. We poor people read our Bibles, and find nothing that excuses you.

You are not punished, because there is no young man in our family. Go."

Edward gazed at her for some time. "Well, I've deserved worse," he said,

not sorry, now that he saw an opponent in her, that she should waste her

concentrated antagonism in this fashion, and rejoiced by the testimony it

gave him that he was certainly not too late.

"You know, Rhoda, she loves me."

"If she does, let her pray to God on her knees."

"My good creature, be reasonable. Why am I here? To harm her? You take me

for a kind of monster. You look at me very much, let me say, like a

bristling cat. Here are the streets getting full of people, and you ought

not to be seen. Go to Dahlia. Tell her I am here. Tell her I am come to

claim her for good, and that her troubles are over. This is a moment to

use your reason. Will you do what I ask?"

"I would cut my tongue out, if it did you a service," said Rhoda.

"Citoyenne Corday," thought Edward, and observed: "Then I will dispense

with your assistance."

He moved in the direction of the house. Rhoda swiftly outstripped him.

They reached the gates together. She threw herself in the gateway. He

attempted to parley, but she was dumb to it.

"I allow nothing to stand between her and me," he said, and seized her

arm. She glanced hurriedly to right and left. At that moment Robert

appeared round a corner of the street. He made his voice heard, and,

coming up at double quick, caught Edward Blancove by the collar, swinging

him off. Rhoda, with a sign, tempered him to muteness, and the three eyed

one another.

"It's you," said Robert, and, understanding immediately the tactics

desired by Rhoda, requested Edward to move a step or two away in his

company.

Edward settled the disposition of his coat-collar, as a formula wherewith

to regain composure of mind, and passed along beside Robert, Rhoda

following.

"What does this mean?" said Robert sternly.

Edward's darker nature struggled for ascendancy within him. It was this

man's violence at Fairly which had sickened him, and irritated him

against Dahlia, and instigated him, as he remembered well, more than Mrs.

Lovell's witcheries, to the abhorrent scheme to be quit of her, and rid

of all botheration, at any cost.

"You're in some conspiracy to do her mischief, all of you," he cried.

"If you mean Dahlia Fleming," said Robert, "it'd be a base creature that

would think of doing harm to her now."

He had a man's perception that Edward would hardly have been found in

Dahlia's neighbourhood with evil intentions at this moment, though it was

a thing impossible to guess. Generous himself, he leaned to the more

generous view.

"I think your name is Eccles," said Edward. "Mr. Eccles, my position here

is a very sad one. But first, let me acknowledge that I have done you

personally a wrong. I am ready to bear the burden of your reproaches, or

what you will. All that I beg is, that you will do me the favour to grant

me five minutes in private. It is imperative."

Rhoda burst in--"No, Robert!" But Robert said, "It is a reasonable

request;" and, in spite of her angry eyes, he waved her back, and walked

apart with Edward.

She stood watching them, striving to divine their speech by their

gestures, and letting her savage mood interpret the possible utterances.

It went ill with Robert in her heart that he did not suddenly grapple and

trample the man, and so break away from him. She was outraged to see

Robert's listening posture. "Lies! lies!" she said to herself, "and he

doesn't know them to be lies." The window-blinds in Dahlia's sitting-room

continued undisturbed; but she feared the agency of the servant of the

house in helping to release her sister. Time was flowing to dangerous

strands. At last Robert turned back singly. Rhoda fortified her soul to

resist.

"He has fooled you," she murmured, inaudibly, before he spoke.

"Perhaps, Rhoda, we ought not to stand in his way. He wishes to do what a

man can do in his case. So he tells me, and I'm bound not to disbelieve

him. He says he repents--says the word; and gentlemen seem to mean it

when they use it. I respect the word, and them when they're up to that

word. He wrote to her that he could not marry her, and it did the

mischief, and may well be repented of; but he wishes to be forgiven and

make amends--well, such as he can. He's been abroad, and only received

Dahlia's letters within the last two or three days. He seems to love her,

and to be heartily wretched. Just hear me out; you'll decide; but pray,

pray don't be rash. He wishes to marry her; says he has spoken to his

father this very night; came straight over from France, after he had read

her letters. He says--and it seems fair--he only asks to see Dahlia for

two minutes. If she bids him go, he goes. He's not a friend of mine, as I

could prove to you; but I do think he ought to see her. He says he looks

on her as his wife; always meant her to be his wife, but things were

against him when he wrote that letter. Well, he says so; and it's true

that gentlemen are situated--they can't always, or think they can't,

behave quite like honest 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.