“You know me, do you not?” he said.

“Yes,” she answered shortly.

“I wish to see Dahlia.”

“You cannot.”

“Not immediately, of course.  But when she has risen later in the morning.  If she has received my letter, she will, she must see me.”

“No, not later; not at all,” said Rhoda.

“Not at all?  Why not?”

Rhoda controlled the surging of her blood for a vehement reply; saying simply, “You will not see her.”

“My child, I must.”

“I am not a child, and I say what I mean.”

“But why am I not to see her?  Do you pretend that it is her wish not to see me?  You can’t.  I know her perfectly.  She is gentleness itself.”

“Yes; you know that,” said Rhoda, with a level flash of her eyes, and confronting him in a way so rarely distinguishing girls of her class, that he began to wonder and to ache with an apprehension.

“She has not changed?  Rhoda—­for we used to talk of you so often!  You will think better of me, by-and-by.

“Naturally enough, you detest me at present.  I have been a brute.  I can’t explain it, and I don’t excuse myself.  I state the fact to you—­her sister.  My desire is to make up for the past.  Will you take a message to her from me?”

“I will not.”

“You are particularly positive.”

Remarks touching herself Rhoda passed by.

“Why are you so decided?” he said more urgently.  “I know I have deeply offended and hurt you.  I wish, and intend to repair the wrong to the utmost of my power.  Surely it’s mere silly vindictiveness on your part to seek to thwart me.  Go to her; say I am here.  At all events, let it be her choice not to see me, if I am to be rejected at the door.  She can’t have had my letter.  Will you do that much?”

“She knows that you are here; she has seen you.”

“Has seen me?” Edward drew in his breath sharply.  “Well? and she sends you out to me?”

Rhoda did not answer.  She was strongly tempted to belie Dahlia’s frame of mind.

“She does send you to speak to me,” Edward insisted.

“She knows that I have come.”

“And you will not take one message in?”

“I will take no message from you.”

“You hate me, do you not?”

Again she controlled the violent shock of her heart to give him hard speech.  He went on:—­

“Whether you hate me or not is beside the matter.  It lies between Dahlia and me.  I will see her.  When I determine, I allow of no obstacles, not even of wrong-headed girls.  First, let me ask, is your father in London?”

Rhoda threw a masculine meaning into her eyes.

“Do not come before him, I advise you.”

“If,” said Edward, with almost womanly softness, “you could know what I have passed through in the last eight-and-forty hours, you would understand that I am equal to any meeting; though, to speak truth, I would rather not see him until I have done what I mean to do.  Will you be persuaded?  Do you suppose that I have ceased to love your sister?”