When David’s sister came down before six o’clock, the house was empty. She, too, had passed through storms; she also had faltered at the hour when life’s pulses beat lowest and midnight sets its dead weight upon human hearts. She had longed to rise and get into the air; but she was determined not to lose sight of Margaret until David came home. Yet for a time she had lost consciousness and slept awhile at edge of dawn. And during those fitful slumbers, Margaret had departed. The day found Rhoda assured of her own action, though the result of it she could not foretell; but thus to have thrust matters upon their climax was a relief to her, and she felt only interested further to learn the extent of David’s future sufferings and her power to lessen them. That Margaret had disappeared did not much astonish her. She doubted not that her sister-in-law was gone to have the first speech with David. Rhoda reviewed her own knowledge of facts and prepared her own statement. She perceived that she herself must come vilely out of it, as a spy and informer; but she kept her intentions and object in view, and believed that, suffer as he must, David would not lose sight of her motives. Her only desire was that her brother’s home might be cleansed--at any cost to its inhabitants. She thirsted to speak to David and hear his voice. Yet, when she saw him coming alone through the morning, her thoughts flashed along another train, and she held her peace until a more fitting time for speech. And this she did because she guessed that something vital had happened to Margaret--something which must justify her attitude and sweep away the last shadow of doubt. Then her brother surprised her mightily; for, when she told him that Margaret had gone from the house before daylight, he seemed but little astonished to hear it. *CHAPTER XIII* *THE SEARCH* 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.