Robert believed that if he might look upon that adorable face for many days together, he could thrust Rhoda’s from his memory.  The sermon was not long enough for him; and he was angry with Percy for rising before there was any movement for departure in the Fairly pew.  In the doorway of the church Percy took his arm, and asked him to point out the family tombstone.  They stood by it, when Lady Elling and Mrs. Lovell came forth and walked to the carriage, receiving respectful salutes from the people of Warbeach.

“How lovely she is!” said Robert.

“Do you think her handsome?” said Major Waring.

“I can’t understand such a creature dying.”  Robert stepped over an open grave.

The expression of Percy’s eyes was bitter.

“I should imagine she thinks it just as impossible.”

The Warbeach villagers waited for Lady Elling’s carriage to roll away, and with a last glance at Robert, they too went off in gossiping groups.  Robert’s penance was over, and he could not refrain from asking what good his coming to church had done.

“I can’t assist you,” said Percy.  “By the way, Mr. Blancove denies everything.  He thinks you mad.  He promises, now that you have adopted reasonable measures, to speak to his cousin, and help, as far as he can, to discover the address you are in search of.”

“That’s all?” cried Robert.

“That is all.”

“Then where am I a bit farther than when I began?”

“You are only at the head of another road, and a better one.”

“Oh, why do I ever give up trusting to my right hand—­” Robert muttered.

But the evening brought a note to him from Algernon Blancove.  It contained a dignified condemnation of Robert’s previous insane behaviour, and closed by giving Dahlia’s address in London.

“How on earth was this brought about?” Robert now questioned.

“It’s singular, is it not?” said Major blaring; “but if you want a dog to follow you, you don’t pull it by the collar; and if you want a potato from the earth, you plant the potato before you begin digging.  You are a soldier by instinct, my good Robert:  your first appeal is to force.  I, you see, am a civilian:  I invariably try the milder methods.  Do you start for London tonight?  I remain.  I wish to look at the neighbourhood.”

Robert postponed his journey to the morrow, partly in dread of his approaching interview with Dahlia, but chiefly to continue a little longer by the side of him whose gracious friendship gladdened his life.  They paid a second visit to Sutton Farm.  Robert doggedly refused to let a word be said to his father about his having taken to farming, and Jonathan listened to all Major Waring said of his son like a man deferential to the accomplishment of speaking, but too far off to hear more than a chance word.  He talked, in reply, quite cheerfully of the weather and the state of the ground; observed that the soil was a