The afternoon brought relief to Rhoda’s apprehensions.  A messenger ran up to the farm bearing a pencilled note to her from Robert, which said that he, in company with her uncle, was holding Sedgett at a distance by force of arm, and that there was no fear.  Rhoda kissed the words, hurrying away to the fields for a few minutes to thank and bless and dream of him who had said that there was no fear.  She knew that Dahlia was unconscious of her imprisonment, and had less compunction in counting the minutes of her absence.  The sun spread in yellow and fell in red before she thought of returning, so sweet it had become to her to let her mind dwell with Robert; and she was half a stranger to the mournfulness of the house when she set her steps homeward.  But when she lifted the latch of the gate, a sensation, prompted by some unwitting self-accusal, struck her with alarm.  She passed into the room, and beheld her father, and Mrs. Sumfit, who was sitting rolling, with her apron over her head.

The man Sedgett was between them.

CHAPTER XLVI

No sooner had Rhoda appeared than her father held up the key of Dahlia’s bed-room, and said, “Unlock your sister, and fetch her down to her husband.”

Mechanically Rhoda took the key.

“And leave our door open,” he added.

She went up to Dahlia, sick with a sudden fright lest evil had come to Robert, seeing that his enemy was here; but that was swept from her by Dahlia’s aspect.

“He is in the house,” Dahlia said; and asked, “Was there no letter—­no letter; none, this morning?”

Rhoda clasped her in her arms, seeking to check the convulsions of her trembling.

“No letter! no letter! none? not any?  Oh! no letter for me!”

The strange varying tones of musical interjection and interrogation were pitiful to hear.

“Did you look for a letter?” said Rhoda, despising herself for so speaking.

“He is in the house!  Where is my letter?”

“What was it you hoped? what was it you expected, darling?”

Dahlia moaned:  “I don’t know.  I’m blind.  I was told to hope.  Yesterday I had my letter, and it told me to hope.  He is in the house!”

“Oh, my dear, my love!” cried Rhoda; “come down a minute.  See him.  It is father’s wish.  Come only for a minute.  Come, to gain time, if there is hope.”

“But there was no letter for me this morning, Rhoda.  I can’t hope.  I am lost.  He is in the house!”

“Dearest, there was a letter,” said Rhoda, doubting that she did well in revealing it.

Dahlia put out her hands dumb for the letter.

“Father opened it, and read it, and keeps it,” said Rhoda, clinging tight to the stricken form.

“Then, he is against me?  Oh, my letter!” Dahlia wrung her hands.

While they were speaking, their father’s voice was heard below calling for Dahlia to descend.  He came thrice to the foot of the stairs, and shouted for her.