But Rhoda pleaded, “She is too worn, she is tottering.  She cannot endure a word on this; not even of kindness and help.”

“Then, you,” said the farmer, “you tell her she’s got a duty’s her first duty now.  Obedience to her husband!  Do you hear?  Then, let her hear it.  Obedience to her husband!  And welcome’s the man when he calls on me.  He’s welcome.  My doors are open to him.  I thank him.  I honour him.  I bless his name.  It’s to him I owe—­You go up to her and say, her father owes it to the young man who’s married her that he can lift up his head.  Go aloft.  Ay! for years I’ve been suspecting something of this.  I tell ye, girl, I don’t understand about church doors and castin’ of her off—­he’s come for her, hasn’t he?  Then, he shall have her.  I tell ye, I don’t understand about money:  he’s married her.  Well, then, she’s his wife; and how can he bargain not to see her?”

“The base wretch!” cried Rhoda.

“Hasn’t he married her?” the farmer retorted.  “Hasn’t he given the poor creature a name?  I’m not for abusing her, but him I do thank, and I say, when he calls, here’s my hand for him.  Here, it’s out and waiting for him.”

“Father, if you let me see it—­” Rhoda checked the intemperate outburst.  “Father, this is a bad—­a bad man.  He is a very wicked man.  We were all deceived by him.  Robert knows him.  He has known him for years, and knows that he is very wicked.  This man married our Dahlia to get—­” Rhoda gasped, and could not speak it.  “He flung her off with horrible words at the church door.  After this, how can he claim her?  I paid him all he had to expect with uncle’s money, for his promise by his sacred oath never, never to disturb or come near my sister.  After that he can’t, can’t claim her.  If he does—­”

“He’s her husband,” interrupted the farmer; “when he comes here, he’s welcome.  I say he’s welcome.  My hand’s out to him:—­If it’s alone that he’s saved the name of Fleming from disgrace!  I thank him, and my daughter belongs to him.  Where is he now?  You talk of a scuffle with Robert.  I do hope Robert will not forget his proper behaviour.  Go you up to your sister, and say from me—­All’s forgotten and forgiven; say, It’s all underfoot; but she must learn to be a good girl from this day.  And, if she’s at the gate to welcome her husband, so much the better ’ll her father be pleased;—­say that.  I want to see the man.  It’ll gratify me to feel her husband’s flesh and blood.  His being out of sight so long’s been a sore at my heart; and when I see him I’ll welcome him, and so must all in my house.”

This was how William Fleming received the confession of his daughter’s unhappy plight.

Rhoda might have pleaded Dahlia’s case better, but that she was too shocked and outraged by the selfishness she saw in her father, and the partial desire to scourge which she was too intuitively keen at the moment not to perceive in the paternal forgiveness, and in the stipulation of the forgiveness.