to blame, and what was the story, the
effect on them would have been diminished. He really seemed granite among
the turbulent waves. "Give me Gammon's life!" was Farmer Fleming's
prayerful interjection; seeing him come and go, sit at his meals, and
sleep and wake in season, all through those tragic hours of suspense,
without a question to anybody. Once or twice, when his eye fell upon the
doctor, Master Gammon appeared to meditate. He observed that the doctor
had never been called in to one of his family, and it was evident that he
did not understand the complication of things which rendered the doctor's
visit necessary.

"You'll never live so long as that old man," the farmer said to Robert.

"No; but when he goes, all of him's gone," Robert answered.

"But Gammon's got the wisdom to keep himself safe, Robert; there's no one
to blame for his wrinkles."

"Gammon's a sheepskin old Time writes his nothings on," said Robert.
"He's safe--safe enough. An old hulk doesn't very easily manage to
founder in the mud, and Gammon's been lying on the mud all his life."

"Let that be how 't will," returned the farmer; "I've had days o' mortal
envy of that old man."

"Well, it's whether you prefer being the fiddle or the fiddle-case,"
quoth Robert.

Of Anthony the farmer no longer had any envy. In him, though he was as
passive as Master Gammon, the farmer beheld merely a stupefied old man,
and not a steady machine. He knew that some queer misfortune had befallen
Anthony.

"He'll find I'm brotherly," said Mr. Fleming; but Anthony had darkened
his golden horizon for him, and was no longer an attractive object to his
vision.

Upon an Autumn afternoon; Dahlia, looking like a pale Spring flower, came
down among them. She told her sister that it was her wish to see Edward.
Rhoda had lost all power of will, even if she had desired to keep them
asunder. She mentioned Dahlia's wish to her father, who at once went for
his hat, and said: "Dress yourself neat, my lass." She knew what was
meant by that remark. Messages daily had been coming down from the Hall,
but the rule of a discerning lady was then established there, and Rhoda
had been spared a visit from either Edward or Algernon, though she knew
them to be at hand. During Dahlia's convalescence, the farmer had not
spoken to Rhoda of her engagement to the young squire. The great misery
intervening, seemed in her mind to have cancelled all earthly
engagements; and when he said that