“It stands to reason for me to prefer a young man for her husband.  He’ll farm the estate, and won’t sell it; so that it goes to our blood, if not to a Fleming.  If, I mean, he’s content to farm soberly, and not play Jack o’ Lantern tricks across his own acres.  Right in one thing’s right, I grant; but don’t argue right in all.  It’s right only in one thing.  Young men, when they’ve made a true hit or so, they’re ready to think it’s themselves that’s right.”

This was of course a reminder of the old feud with Robert, and sufficiently showed whom the farmer had in view for a husband to Rhoda, if any doubt existed previously.

Having raised his eyes, his unwonted power of speech abandoned him, and he concluded, wavering in look and in tone,—­

“I’d half forgotten her uncle.  I’ve reckoned his riches when I cared for riches.  I can’t say th’ amount; but, all—­I’ve had his word for it—­all goes to this—­God knows how much!—­girl.  And he don’t hesitate to say she’s worth a young man’s fancying.  May be so.  It depends upon ideas mainly, that does.  All goes to her.  And this farm.—­I wish ye good-night.”

He gave them no other sign, but walked in his oppressed way quietly to the inner door, and forth, leaving the rest to them.

CHAPTER XIV

The two were together, and all preliminary difficulties had been cleared for Robert to say what he had to say, in a manner to make the saying of it well-nigh impossible.  And yet silence might be misinterpreted by her.  He would have drawn her to his heart at one sign of tenderness.  There came none.  The girl was frightfully torn with a great wound of shame.  She was the first to speak.

“Do you believe what father says of my sister?”

“That she—?” Robert swallowed the words.  “No!” and he made a thunder with his fist.

“No!” She drank up the word.  “You do not?  No!  You know that Dahlia is innocent?”

Rhoda was trembling with a look for the asseveration; her pale face eager as a cry for life; but the answer did not come at once hotly as her passion for it demanded.  She grew rigid, murmuring faintly:  “speak!  Do speak!”

His eyes fell away from hers.  Sweet love would have wrought in him to think as she thought, but she kept her heart closed from him, and he stood sadly judicial, with a conscience of his own, that would not permit him to declare Dahlia innocent, for he had long been imagining the reverse.

Rhoda pressed her hands convulsively, moaning, “Oh!” down a short deep breath.

“Tell me what has happened?” said Robert, made mad by that reproachful agony of her voice.  “I’m in the dark.  I’m not equal to you all.  If Dahlia’s sister wants one to stand up for her, and defend her, whatever she has done or not done, ask me.  Ask me, and I’ll revenge her.  Here am I, and I know nothing, and you despise me because—­don’t think me rude or unkind.  This hand is yours, if you will.  Come, Rhoda.  Or, let me hear the case, and I’ll satisfy you as best I can.  Feel for her?  I feel for her as you do.  You don’t want me to stand a liar to your question?  How can I speak?”