"Can't I see my mother?"

"How can you? You must wait till to-morrow night."

"I don't like waiting a second night, Barbara. There's danger in every inch of ground that this neighborhood contains."

"But you must wait, Richard, for reasons. That man who caused all the mischief--Thorn--"

"Hang him!" gloomily interrupted Richard.

"He is at West Lynne. At least there is a Thorn, we--I and Mr. Carlyle-- believe to be the same, and we want you to see him."

"Let me see him," panted Richard, whom the news appeared to agitate; "let me see him, Barbara, I say----"

Barbara had pa.s.sed on again, returning presently.

"You know, Richard, I must keep moving, with papa's eyes there. He is a tall man, very good-looking, very fond of dress and ornament, especially of diamonds."

"That's he," cried Richard, eagerly.

"Mr. Carlyle will contrive that you shall see him," she continued, stooping as if to tie her shoe. "Should it prove to be the same, perhaps nothing can be done--immediately done--toward clearing you, but it shall be a great point ascertained. Are you sure you should know him again?"

"Sure! That I should know him?" uttered Richard Hare. "Should I know my own father? Should I know you? And are you not engraven on my heart in letters of blood, as is he? How and when am I to see him, Barbara?"

"I can tell you nothing till I have seen Mr. Carlyle. Be here to-morrow, as soon as ever the dusk will permit you. Perhaps Mr. Carlyle will contrive to bring him here. If--"

The window was thrown open, and the stentorian voice of Justice Hare was heard from it.

"Barbara, are you wandering about there to take cold? Come in! Come in, I say!"

"Oh, Richard, I am so sorry!" she lingered to whisper. "But papa is sure to be out to-morrow evening; he would not stay in two evenings running.

Good-night, dear."

There must be no delay now, and the next day Barbara, braving comments, appeared once more at the office of Mr. Carlyle. Terribly did the rules of contrary seem in action just then. Mr. Carlyle was not in, and the clerks did not know when to expect him; he was gone out for some hours, they believed.

"Mr. Dill," urged Barbara, as the old gentleman came to the door to greet her, "I must see him."

"He will not be in till late in the afternoon, Miss Barbara. I expect him then. Is it anything I can do?"

"No, no," sighed Barbara.

At that moment Lady Isabel and her little girl pa.s.sed in the chariot.

She saw Barbara at her husband's door; what should she be doing there, unless paying him a visit? A slight, haughty bow to Barbara, a pleasant nod and smile to Mr. Dill, and the carriage bowled on.

It was four o'clock before Barbara could see Mr. Carlyle, and communicate her tidings that Richard had arrived.

Mr. Carlyle held deceit and all underhand doings in especial abhorrence; yet he deemed that he was acting right, under the circ.u.mstances, in allowing Captain Thorn to be secretly seen by Richard Hare. In haste he arranged his plans. It was the evening of his own dinner engagement at Mrs. Jefferson's but that he must give up. Telling Barbara to dispatch Richard to his office as soon as he should make his appearance at the grove, and to urge him to come boldly and not fear, for none would know him in his disguise, he wrote a hurried note to Thorn, requesting him also to be at his office at eight o'clock that evening, as he had something to communicate to him. The latter plea was no fiction, for he had received an important communication that morning relative to the business on which Captain Thorn had consulted him, and his own absence from the office in the day had alone prevented his sending for him earlier.

Other matters were calling the attention of Mr. Carlyle, and it was five o'clock ere he departed for East Lynne; he would not have gone so early, but that he must inform his wife of his inability to keep his dinner engagement. Mr. Carlyle was one who never hesitated to sacrifice personal gratification to friendship or to business.

The chariot was at the door, and Lady Isabel dressed and waiting for him in her dressing-room. "Did you forget that the Jeffersons dined at six?"

was her greeting.

"No, Isabel; but it was impossible for me to get here before. And I should not have come so soon, but to tell you that I cannot accompany you. You must make my excuses to Mrs. Jefferson."

A pause. Strange thoughts were running through Lady Isabel's mind. "Why so?" she inquired.

"Some business has arisen which I am compelled to attend to this evening. As soon as I have s.n.a.t.c.hed a bit of dinner at home I must hasten back to the office."

Was he making this excuse to spend the hours of her absence with Barbara Hare? The idea that it was so took firm possession of her mind, and remained there. Her face expressed a variety of feelings, the most prominent that of resentment. Mr. Carlyle saw it.

"You must not be vexed, Isabel. I a.s.sure you it is no fault of mine. It is important private business which cannot be put off, and which I cannot delegate to Dill. I am sorry it should have so happened."

"You never return to the office in the evening," she remarked, with pale lips.

"No; because if anything arises to take us there after hours, Dill officiates. But the business to-night must be done by myself."

Another pause. Lady Isabel suddenly broke it. "Shall you join us later in the evening?"

"I believe I shall not be able to do so."

She drew her light shawl around her shoulders, and swept down the staircase. Mr. Carlyle followed to place her in the carriage. When he said farewell, she never answered but looked out straight before her with a stony look.

"What time, my lady?" inquired the footman, as he alighted at Mrs.

Jefferson's.

"Early. Half-past nine."

A little before eight o'clock, Richard Hare, in his smock-frock and his slouching hat and his false whiskers, rang dubiously at the outer door of Mr. Carlyle's office. That gentleman instantly opened it. He was quite alone.

"Come in, Richard," said he, grasping his hand. "Did you meet any whom you knew?"

"I never looked at whom I met, sir," was the reply. "I thought that if I looked at people, they might look at me, so I came straight ahead with my eyes before me. How the place has altered! There's a new brick house on the corner where old Morgan's shop used to stand."

"That's the new police station. West Lynne I a.s.sure you, is becoming grand in public buildings. And how have you been, Richard?"

"Ailing and wretched," answered Richard Hare. "How can I be otherwise, Mr. Carlyle, with so false an accusation attached to me; and working like a slave, as I have to do?"

"You may take off the disfiguring hat, Richard. No one is here."

Richard slowly heaved it from his brows, and his fair face, so like his mother's, was disclosed. But the moment he was uncovered he turned shrinkingly toward the entrance door. "If any one should come in, sir?"

"Impossible!" replied Mr. Carlyle. "The front door is fast, and the office is supposed to be empty at this hour."

"For if I should be seen and recognized, it might come to hanging, you know, sir. You are expecting that cursed Thorn here, Barbara told me."

"Directly," replied Mr. Carlyle, observing the mode of addressing him "sir." It spoke plainly of the scale of society in which Richard had been mixing; that he was with those who said it habitually; nay, that he used it habitually himself. "From your description of the Lieutenant Thorn who destroyed Hallijohn, we believe this Captain Thorn to be the same man," pursued Mr. Carlyle. "In person he appears to tally exactly; and I have ascertained that a few years ago he was a deal at Swainson, and got into some sort of sc.r.a.pe. He is in John Herbert's regiment, and is here with him on a visit."

"But what an idiot he must be to venture here!" uttered Richard. "Here of all places in the world!"