第120章

"I have brought you a truant, Wilson," cried Barbara.

"Oh, is it you, Miss Barbara? How are you, miss? Naughty boy!--yes, he ran away without my noticing him--he is got now so that he can open the door."

"You must be so kind as to keep him strictly in for to-day," concluded Miss Barbara, authoritatively. "Miss Carlyle is not well, and cannot be subjected to the annoyance of his running into the room."

Evening came, and the time of Richard's departure. It was again snowing heavily, though it had ceased in the middle of the day. Money for the present had been given to him; arrangements had been discussed. Mr. Carlyle insisted upon Richard's sending him his address, as soon as he should own one to send, and Richard faithfully promised. He was in very low spirits, almost as low as Barbara, who could not conceal her tears; they dropped in silence on her pretty silk dress. He was smuggled down the stairs, a large cloak of Miss Carlyle's enveloping him, into the room he had entered by storm the previous night. Mr. Carlyle held the window open.

"Good-bye, Barbara dear. If ever you should be able to tell my mother of this day, say that my chief sorrow was not to see her."

"Oh, Richard!" she sobbed forth, broken-hearted, "good-bye. May God be with you and bless you!"

"Farewell, Richard," said Miss Carlyle; "don't you be fool enough to get into any more scrapes."

Last of all he rung the hand of Mr. Carlyle. The latter went outside with him for an instant, and their leave-taking was alone.

Barbara returned to the chamber he had quitted. She felt that she must indulge in a few moments sobbing; Joyce was there, but Barbara was sobbing when she entered it.

"It /is/ hard for him, Miss Barbara, if he is really innocent."

Barbara turned her streaming eyes upon her. "/If!/ Joyce do you doubt that he is innocent?"

"I quite believe him to be so now, miss. Nobody could so solemnly assert what was not true. The thing at present will be to find that Captain Thorn."

"Joyce!" exclaimed Barbara, in excitement, seizing hold of Joyce's hands, "I thought I had found him; I believed in my own mind that I knew who he was. I don't mind telling you, though I have never before spoken of it; and with one thing or other, this night I feel just as if I should die--as if I must speak. I thought it was Sir Francis Levison."

Joyce stared with all her eyes. "Miss Barbara!"

"I did. I have thought it ever since the night that Lady Isabel went away. My poor brother was at West Lynne then--he had come for a few hours, and he met the man Thorn walking in Bean lane. He was in evening dress, and Richard described a peculiar motion of his--the throwing off of his hair from his brow. He said his white hand and his diamond ring glittered in the moonlight. The white hand, the ring, the motion--for he was always doing it--all reminded me of Captain Levison; and from that hour until to-day I believed him to be the man Richard saw. To-day Richard tells me that he knows Sir Francis Levison, and that he and Thorn are intimate. What I think now is, that this Thorn must have paid a flying visit to the neighborhood that night to assist Captain Levison in the wicked work that he had on hand."

"How strange it all sounds!" uttered Joyce.

"And I never could tell my suspicions to Mr. Carlyle! I did not like to mention Francis Levison's name to him."

Barbara soon returned down stairs. "I must be going home," she said to Mr. Carlyle. "It is turned half-past seven, and mamma will be uneasy."

"Whenever you like, Barbara."

"But can I not walk? I am sorry to take out your ponies again, and in this storm."

Mr. Carlyle laughed. "Which would feel the storm the worst, you or the ponies?"

But when Barbara got outside, she saw that it was not the pony carriage, but the chariot that was in waiting for her. She turned inquiringly to Mr. Carlyle.

"Did you think I should allow you to go home in an open carriage to-night, Barbara?"

"Are you coming also?"

"I suppose I had better," he smiled. "To see that you and the carriage do not get fixed in a rut."

Barbara withdrew to her corner of the chariot, and cried silently.

Very, very deeply did she mourn the unhappy situation--the privations of her brother; and she knew that he was one to feel them deeply. He could not battle with the world's hardships so bravely as many could.

Mr. Carlyle only detected her emotion as they were nearing the Grove.

He leaned forward, took her hand, and held it between his.

"Don't grieve, Barbara. Bright days may be in store for us yet."

The carriage stopped.

"You may go back," he said to the servants, when he alighted. "I shall walk home."

"Oh," exclaimed Barbara, "I do think you intend to spend the evening with us? Mamma will be so pleased."

Her voice sounded as if she was also. Mr. Carlyle drew her hand within his arm as they walked up the path.

But Barbara had reckoned without her host. Mrs. Hare was in bed, consequently could not be pleased at the visit of Mr. Carlyle. The justice had gone out, and she, feeling tired and not well, thought she would retire to rest. Barbara stole into her room, but found her asleep, so that it fell to Barbara to entertain Mr. Carlyle.

They stood together before the large pierglass, in front of the blazing fire. Barbara was thinking over the events of the day. What Mr. Carlyle was thinking of was best known to himself; his eyes, covered with their drooping eyelids, were cast upon Barbara. There was a long silence, at length Barbara seemed to feel that his gaze was upon her, and she looked up at him.

"Will you marry me, Barbara?"

The words were spoken in the quietest, most matter-of-fact tone, just as if he had said, "Shall I give you a chair, Barbara?" But, oh! The change that passed over her countenance! The sudden light of joy! The scarlet flush of emotion and happiness. Then it all faded down to paleness and sadness.

She shook her head in the negative. "But you are very kind to ask me," she added in words.

"What is the impediment, Barbara?"

Another rush of color as before and a deep silence. Mr. Carlyle stole his arm around her and bent his face on a level with hers.