slippings and tumblings—­little earthly casualties which gave a charming sense of reality to her otherwise miraculous flight.  The Alps were crossed:  Italy was beheld.  A profusion of “Oh’s!” described Dahlia’s impressions of Italy; and “Oh! the heat!” showed her to be mortal, notwithstanding the sublime exclamations.  Como received the blissful couple.  Dahlia wrote from Como:—­

“Tell father that gentlemen in my Edward’s position cannot always immediately proclaim their marriage to the world.  There are reasons.  I hope he has been very angry with me:  then it will be soon over, and we shall be—­but I cannot look back.  I shall not look back till we reach Venice.  At Venice, I know I shall see you all as clear as day; but I cannot even remember the features of my darling here.”

Her Christian name was still her only signature.

The thin blue-and-pink paper, and the foreign postmarks—­testifications to Dahlia’s journey not being a fictitious event, had a singular deliciousness for the solitary girl at the Farm.  At times, as she turned them over, she was startled by the intoxication of her sentiments, for the wild thought would come, that many, many whose passionate hearts she could feel as her own, were ready to abandon principle and the bondage to the hereafter, for such a long delicious gulp of divine life.  Rhoda found herself more than once brooding on the possible case that Dahlia had done this thing.

The fit of languor came on her unawares, probing at her weakness, and blinding her to the laws and duties of earth, until her conscious womanhood checked it, and she sprang from the vision in a spasm of terror, not knowing how far she had fallen.

After such personal experiences, she suffered great longings to be with her sister, that the touch of her hand, the gaze of her eyes, the tone of Dahlia’s voice, might make her sure of her sister’s safety.

Rhoda’s devotions in church were frequently distracted by the occupants of the Blancove pew.  Mrs. Lovell had the habit of looking at her with an extraordinary directness, an expressionless dissecting scrutiny, that was bewildering and confusing to the country damsel.  Algernon likewise bestowed marked attention on her.  Some curious hints had been thrown out to her by this young gentleman on the day when he ventured to speak to her in the lane, which led her to fancy distantly that he had some acquaintance with Dahlia’s husband, or that he had heard of Dahlia.

It was clear to Rhoda that Algernon sought another interview.  He appeared in the neighbourhood of the farm on Saturdays, and on Sundays he was present in the church, sometimes with Mrs. Lovell, and sometimes without a companion.  His appearance sent her quick wits travelling through many scales of possible conduct:  and they struck one ringing note:—­she thought that by the aid of this gentleman a lesson might be given to Robert’s mean nature.  It was part of Robert’s punishment to see that she was not unconscious of Algernon’s admiration.