“It is not our doing, Mr. Blancove.  It was—­it was by her own choice.  She will not always be ashamed to look her father in the face.  She dare not see him before she is made worthy to see him.  I believe her to have been directed right.”

“And what is her choice?”

“She has chosen for herself to marry a good and worthy man.”

Edward called out, “Have you seen him—­the man?”

Rhoda, thinking he wished to have the certainty of the stated fact established, replied, “I have.”

“A good and worthy man,” muttered Edward.  “Illness, weakness, misery, have bewildered her senses.  She thinks him a good and worthy man?”

“I think him so.”

“And you have seen him?”

“I have.”

“Why, what monstrous delusion is this?  It can’t be!  My good creature, you’re oddly deceived, I imagine.  What is the man’s name?  I can understand that she has lost her will and distinct sight; but you are clear-sighted, and can estimate.  What is the man’s name?”

“I can tell you,” said Rhoda; “his name is Mr. Sedgett.”

“Mister—!” Edward gave one hollow stave of laughter.  “And you have seen him, and think him—­”

“I know he is not a gentleman,” said Rhoda.  “He has been deeply good to my sister, and I thank him, and do respect him.”

“Deeply!” Edward echoed.  He was prompted to betray and confess himself:  courage failed.

They looked around simultaneously on hearing an advancing footstep.

The very man appeared—­in holiday attire, flushed, smiling, and with a nosegay of roses in his hand.  He studied the art of pleasing women.  His eye struck on Edward, and his smile vanished.  Rhoda gave him no word of recognition.  As he passed on, he was led to speculate from his having seen Mr. Edward instead of Mr. Algernon, and from the look of the former, that changes were in the air, possibly chicanery, and the proclaiming of himself as neatly diddled by the pair whom, with another, he heartily hoped to dupe.

After he had gone by, Edward and Rhoda changed looks.  Both knew the destination of that lovely nosegay.  The common knowledge almost kindled an illuminating spark in her brain; but she was left in the dark, and thought him strangely divining, or only strange.  For him, a horror cramped his limbs.  He felt that he had raised a devil in that abominable smirking ruffian.  It may not, perhaps, be said that he had distinctly known Sedgett to be the man.  He had certainly suspected the possibility of his being the man.  It is out of the power of most wilful and selfish natures to imagine, so as to see accurately, the deeds they prompt or permit to be done.  They do not comprehend them until these black realities stand up before their eyes.

Ejaculating “Great heaven!” Edward strode some steps away, and returned.

“It’s folly, Rhoda!—­the uttermost madness ever conceived!  I do not believe—­I know that Dahlia would never consent—­first, to marry any man but myself; secondly, to marry a man who is not a perfect gentleman.  Her delicacy distinguishes her among women.”