out of London. The deeply-afflicted creature was, as the doctors had
said of her, too strong for the ordinary modes of killing. She could
walk and still support herself, though the ordeal she had gone through
this day was such as few women could have traversed. The terror to
follow the deed she had done was yet unseen by her; and for the hour she
tasted, if not peace, the pause to suffering which is given by an act
accomplished.

Robert and Rhoda sat in different rooms till it was dusk. When she
appeared before him in the half light, the ravage of a past storm was
visible on her face. She sat down to make tea, and talked with singular
self command.

"Mr. Fleming mentioned the gossips down at Wrexby," said Robert: "are
they very bad down there?"

"Not worse than in other villages," said Rhoda. "They have not been
unkind. They have spoken about us, but not unkindly--I mean, not
spitefully."

"And you forgive them?"

"I do: they cannot hurt us now."

Robert was but striving to master some comprehension of her character.

"What are we to resolve, Rhoda?"

"I must get the money promised to this man."