“She will die, father.”

He stamped furiously, exclaiming:  “Who’s got the law of her better and above a husband?  Hear reason, and come and help and fetch down your sister.  She goes!”

“Father!” Rhoda cried, looking at her open hands, as if she marvelled to see them helpless.

There was for a time that silence which reigns in a sickchamber when the man of medicine takes the patient’s wrist.  And in the silence came a blessed sound—­the lifting of a latch.  Rhoda saw Robert’s face.

“So,” said Robert, as she neared him, “you needn’t tell me what’s happened.  Here’s the man, I see.  He dodged me cleverly.  The hound wants practice; the fox is born with his cunning.”

Few words were required to make him understand the position of things in the house.  Rhoda spoke out all without hesitation in Sedgett’s hearing.

But the farmer respected Robert enough to come down to him and explain his views of his duty and his daughter’s duty.  By the kitchen firelight he and Robert and Sedgett read one another’s countenances.

“He has a proper claim to take his wife, Robert,” said the farmer.  “He’s righted her before the world, and I thank him; and if he asks for her of me he must have her, and he shall.”

“All right, sir,” replied Robert, “and I say too, shall, when I’m stiff as log-wood.”

“Oh!  Robert, Robert!” Rhoda cried in great joy.

“Do you mean that you step ’twixt me and my own?” said Mr. Fleming.

“I won’t let you nod at downright murder—­that’s all,” said Robert.  “She—­Dahlia, take the hand of that creature!”

“Why did she marry me?” thundered Sedgett.

“There’s one o’ the wonders!” Robert rejoined.  “Except that you’re an amazingly clever hypocrite with women; and she was just half dead and had no will of her own; and some one set you to hunt her down.  I tell you, Mr. Fleming, you might as well send your daughter to the hangman as put her in this fellow’s hands.”

“She’s his wife, man.”

“May be,” Robert assented.

“You, Robert Eccles!” said Sedgett hoarsely; “I’ve come for my wife—­do you hear?”

“You have, I dare say,” returned Robert.  “You dodged me cleverly, that you did.  I’d like to know how it was done.  I see you’ve got a cart outside and a boy at the horse’s head.  The horse steps well, does he?  I’m about three hours behind him, I reckon:—­not too late, though!”

He let fall a great breath of weariness.

Rhoda went to the cupboard and drew forth a rarely touched bottle of spirits, with which she filled a small glass, and handing the glass to him, said, “Drink.”  He smiled kindly and drank it off.

“The man’s in your house, Mr. Fleming,” he said.

“And he’s my guest, and my daughter’s husband, remember that,” said the farmer.

“And mean to wait not half a minute longer till I’ve taken her off—­mark that,” Sedgett struck in.  “Now, Mr. Fleming, you see you keep good your word to me.”