She sobbed, but told Robert it was not for sorrow.  He, longing to catch her in his arms, and punctilious not to overstep the duties of his post of guardian, could merely sit by listening, and reflecting on her as a strange Biblical girl, with Hebrew hardness of resolution, and Hebrew exaltation of soul; beautiful, too, as the dark women of the East.  He admitted to himself that he never could have taken it on his conscience to subdue a human creature’s struggling will, as Rhoda had not hesitated to do with Dahlia, and to command her actions, and accept all imminent responsibilities; not quailing with any outcry, or abandonment of strength, when the shock of that revelation in the vestry came violently on her.  Rhoda, seeing there that it was a brute, and not a man, into whose hand she had perilously forced her sister’s, stood steadying her nerves to act promptly with advantage; less like a woman, Robert thought, than a creature born for battle.  And she appeared to be still undaunted, full of her scheme, and could cry without fear of floods.  Something of the chivalrous restraint he put upon the motions of his heart, sprang from the shadowy awe which overhung that impressible organ.  This feeling likewise led him to place a blind reliance on her sagacity and sense of what was just, and what should be performed.

“You promised this money to him,” he said, half thinking it incredible.

“On Monday,” said Rhoda.

“You must get a promise from him in return.”

She answered:  “Why? when he could break it the instant he cared to, and a promise would tempt him to it.  He does not love her.”

“No; he does not love her,” said Robert, meditating whether he could possibly convey an idea of the character of men to her innocent mind.

“He flung her off.  Thank heaven for it!  I should have been punished too much—­too much.  He has saved her from the perils of temptation.  He shall be paid for it.  To see her taken away by such a man!  Ah!” She shuddered as at sight of a hideous pit.

But Robert said:  “I know him, Rhoda.  That was his temper.  It’ll last just four-and-twenty hours, and then we shall need all our strength and cunning.  My dear, it would be the death of Dahlia.  You’ve seen the man as he is.  Take it for a warning.  She belongs to him.  That’s the law, human and divine.”

“Not when he has flung her off, Robert?” Rhoda cried piteously.

“Let us take advantage of that.  He did fling her off, spat at us all, and showed the blackest hellish plot I ever in my life heard of.  He’s not the worst sinner, scoundrel as he is.  Poor girl! poor soul! a hard lot for women in this world!  Rhoda, I suppose I may breakfast with you in the morning?  I hear Major Waring’s knock below.  I want a man to talk to.”

“Do come, Robert,” Rhoda said, and gave him her hand.  He strove to comprehend why it was that her hand was merely a hand, and no more to him just then; squeezed the cold fingers, and left her.