es 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 ab