That there was truth in what her mother said about her influence in the sick-room Rhoda was well aware. She had herself noted their patient’s increased nervousness if she stayed long away from his presence, and she treasured the thought of it in her heart as she did his open words of love. And she longed, far more than even her mother could guess, to be there with him, to minister to his comfort, to hear his voice, to catch now and then the look of love in his eye. So much did she yearn for all the blessedness of it that she was afraid to trust herself, afraid for her resolution. She turned her eyes away from the grape arbor and deliberately fixed her thoughts upon the slave woman and her two little children whom she had succored two nights before, forced herself to think of the dozen others whom she had helped to conceal in the house and to further secretly on their way, of the desperate, fleeing bondman whose freedom she had won from Jefferson Delavan in the woods on that June afternoon. With a sudden indrawing of her breath she set her teeth upon her lip and said within herself, “No, no, I will not fail you!” But the dear thought of her lover and his need of her still drew her heart. Well, she would tell him there must be no more of love between them and that only upon that understanding would she stay beside him in his sick-chamber. Then he could have no false hopes and the way before them would be fair and clear. At this capitulation she was conscious of a thrill of happiness and she could not resist dwelling for an instant upon a sweet premonition of their hours together. Just then she saw Charlotte down in the yard and her sister’s proposal of the day before recurred to her, as it had already done several times. She knew there was no telling how far Charlotte might choose to carry her teasing of Horace Hardaker. “Poor Horace! It’s a shame!” was her thought, but a smile went with it. “Such a good friend as he is, and he does take things so much in earnest!” Why shouldn’t Charlotte go in and out of the room as freely as she did? The idea brought a sharp pang with it--Charlotte had such a way with her, and if she chose--well, what right had she herself to Jeff’s love when she would not marry him? What a mean thing it would be to stand in her sister’s way if Jeff should choose to transfer his affections. Something seemed clutching at her heart, but she turned quickly round to her mother, who had been waiting with a pleased smile on her face, scarcely doubting what would be the result of her daughter’s few minutes of thought.