"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.




CHAPTER XI

So long as we do not know that we are performing any remarkable feat, we
may walk upon the narrowest of planks between precipices with perfect
security; but when we suffer our minds to eye the chasm underneath, we
begin to be in danger, and we are in very great fear of losing our equal
balance the moment we admit the insidious reflection that other men,
placed as we are, would probably topple headlong over. Anthony Hackbut,
of Boyne's Bank, had been giving himself up latterly to this fatal
comparison. The hour when gold was entrusted to his charge found him
feverish and irritable. He asked himself whether he was a mere machine to
transfer money from spot to spot, and he spurned at the pittance bestowed
upon honesty in this life. Where could Boyne's Bank discover again such