The fit of languor came on her unawares, probing at her weakness, and blinding her to the laws and duties of earth, until her conscious womanhood checked it, and she sprang from the vision in a spasm of terror, not knowing how far she had fallen.

After such personal experiences, she suffered great longings to be with her sister, that the touch of her hand, the gaze of her eyes, the tone of Dahlia’s voice, might make her sure of her sister’s safety.

Rhoda’s devotions in church were frequently distracted by the occupants of the Blancove pew.  Mrs. Lovell had the habit of looking at her with an extraordinary directness, an expressionless dissecting scrutiny, that was bewildering and confusing to the country damsel.  Algernon likewise bestowed marked attention on her.  Some curious hints had been thrown out to her by this young gentleman on the day when he ventured to speak to her in the lane, which led her to fancy distantly that he had some acquaintance with Dahlia’s husband, or that he had heard of Dahlia.

It was clear to Rhoda that Algernon sought another interview.  He appeared in the neighbourhood of the farm on Saturdays, and on Sundays he was present in the church, sometimes with Mrs. Lovell, and sometimes without a companion.  His appearance sent her quick wits travelling through many scales of possible conduct:  and they struck one ringing note:—­she thought that by the aid of this gentleman a lesson might be given to Robert’s mean nature.  It was part of Robert’s punishment to see that she was not unconscious of Algernon’s admiration.

The first letter from Venice consisted of a series of interjections in praise of the poetry of gondolas, varied by allusions to the sad smell of the low tide water, and the amazing quality of the heat; and then Dahlia wrote more composedly:—­

“Titian the painter lived here, and painted ladies, who sat to him without a bit of garment on, and indeed, my darling, I often think it was more comfortable for the model than for the artist.  Even modesty seems too hot a covering for human creatures here.  The sun strikes me down.  I am ceasing to have a complexion.  It is pleasant to know that my Edward is still proud of me.  He has made acquaintance with some of the officers here, and seems pleased at the compliments they pay me.

“They have nice manners, and white uniforms that fit them like a kid glove.  I am Edward’s ‘resplendent wife.’  A colonel of one of the regiments invited him to dinner (speaking English), ’with your resplendent wife.’  Edward has no mercy for errors of language, and he would not take me.  Ah! who knows how strange men are!  Never think of being happy unless you can always be blind.  I see you all at home—­ Mother Dumpling and all—­as I thought I should when I was to come to Venice.