More for thought of Margaret than the sick master of Ditsworthy, had Crocker climbed to the Warren House upon his last evening at Sheepstor. He asked to see David, spent half an hour with him, and spoke explicitly of Rhoda, of his final failure to win her, and of the attitude that she had adopted towards him during that interview.
"God knows I wish her nought but good," he said; "and first and best that her mind should be cleansed of things she's heard from some unknown enemy and believes against me. She's got it in her head that I'm a worthless blackguard, born to make trouble. When she met me with your wife in Dennycoombe wood, a few hours since, she spoke as if I'd no business to be talking to Margaret. I say this for Margaret's sake; because, before saying 'good-bye,' I kissed Margaret, and your sister saw me do so, and went white with passion. There's that about kissing she can't forgive or forget, seemingly. But I'm off to-morrow and don't want to leave any trouble behind me."
David nodded.
"You must allow for Rhoda. She's terrible fretted and has got a deal on her mind just now," he said.
"That's true enough; and she's often right; and I'm a fashion of man not worthy to name in the same breath with her. I only mention these things for your sake and Margaret's. Your sister is cruelly wrong about me, anyway, and maybe time will show her so. Only she mustn't be wrong about Madge. Me and Madge did very often meet, and even in secret, if you like. But why? Not to hide anything from anybody but Rhoda herself. Madge was very wishful for me to have Rhoda, and again and again we planned and plotted together what she could do, and what I could do, to bring it about. You understand that?"
"Why, yes; Margaret always told me about it of course."
"But perhaps Rhoda didn't see what we wanted to be together for behind her back. A stupid muddle sure enough, and nothing but Madge wanting to do her and me a good turn was the cause of it. You clear her mind for her the first minute you can, David. And if she's had a row with Margaret, make 'em be friends again. Only you can do it."
Thus he spoke, and the other saw all clearly.
"Rhoda's been unlike herself a good while," he answered. "And now I begin to see daylight. Of course, if she had some wild, silly fancies against you, and people have been telling her that you're not straight, she may have been vexed and anxious that you saw so much of my wife. For my sake she'd have felt so. But why she should have believed anything against you, or who spoke against you--that I can't say. However, your character is safe with me. I'll soon have it out and let loose some common sense into her brains. You must allow a bit for unmarried girls like her. They can't see life whole, and they get wrong opinions about men's minds. She's wise as need be every other way; but where men and women combined are the matter, she never can take proper views. She's jealous for me without a doubt--maybe because I was never known to be jealous for myself: too busy for that. And why should I be with a wife like mine?"
"You may well ask it. Madge would rather die than think an evil thought, let alone do an evil deed, against you. As for Rhoda--she beats me. Most of the man-hating sort be ugly and a bit hard at the angles; but she--she's as pretty as any wife you ever saw in the world. The Lord may send her a husband yet! And mind you let me know if it happens, for I'd like to give her a wedding present worth having."