But the farmer respected Robert enough to come down to him and explain his views of his duty and his daughter's duty. By the kitchen firelight he and Robert and Sedgett read one another's countenances.
"He has a proper claim to take his wife, Robert," said the farmer. "He's righted her before the world, and I thank him; and if he asks for her of me he must have her, and he shall."
"All right, sir," replied Robert, "and I say too, shall, when I'm stiff as log-wood."
"Oh! Robert, Robert!" Rhoda cried in great joy.
"Do you mean that you step 'twixt me and my own?" said Mr. Fleming.
"I won't let you nod at downright murder—that's all," said Robert.
"She—Dahlia, take the hand of that creature!"
"Why did she marry me?" thundered Sedgett.
"There's one o' the wonders!" Robert rejoined. "Except that you're an amazingly clever hypocrite with women; and she was just half dead and had no will of her own; and some one set you to hunt her down. I tell you, Mr. Fleming, you might as well send your daughter to the hangman as put her in this fellow's hands."
"She's his wife, man."
"May be," Robert assented.