Rhoda was so much astonished at this retort that it was some moments before she could reply. When she had collected her thoughts, she said straightforwardly: “You tried to run away. And he has forgiven that.” “Well, it was his wish that I should stay, wasn’t it? Then he is right to be glad. It is I who am sorry, for I wanted to go.” The coolness with which she spoke frightened Rhoda for a moment. But then the absurdity of the situation suddenly struck her, after her realisation of its tragedy, and she could scarcely help laughing. “It’s of no use to argue with you, Lady Sarah,” she said with a sigh. “Not the least in the world. You see, too, that I’m in the right. Sir Robert, for what reason I don’t know, wants to keep me here against my will, wants to travel with me, when he knows he’ll hate it as much as I shall. Well, he has succeeded in getting his own way, and I haven’t got mine. Why am I expected to be grateful then? It is he who ought to be grateful. But it is silly of him to show his gratitude by insisting upon buying me a lot of things I don’t want.” Rhoda said no more, and Lady Sarah, thankful at any rate to be freed from the society of her husband, condescended to be very charming for the rest of the evening. But there was now a new feature in her conduct which filled every one with dismay. She was civil to every one, lively and bright with Minnie and even with Rhoda, but towards Sir Robert she now maintained a demeanour of cold reserve which was disconcerting in the extreme. It was in vain that he tried every means in his power to please her, consulted her about their travelling arrangements, asked her whether she wanted money. Even that last inducement to break down her sullen resentment failed. She shrugged her shoulders, and without looking up, told him that, after the fuss he had made about giving her money, she had resolved not to trouble him for more than her allowance in future. Sir Robert, greatly distressed by this new attitude, had recourse, much against his will, to his wife’s parents for help in the emergency. The Marquis was unsympathetic. He was of opinion that every man should know how to manage his own wife, and that his son-in-law had better not carry his domestic troubles outside his own door. But Lady Eridge, who perhaps understood, better than did the Marquis, the wayward and difficult temper of their child, was greatly distressed, and did not dare to confess what Lady Sarah had told her since the frustrated elopement, news of which she had herself brought to her mother. Lady Sarah had told her mother frankly that she hated her husband, that she would never get on any better with him than she was now doing, and that, if he were to insist upon taking her away with him to Egypt, she would throw herself into the sea on the way out.