"To carry off Barbara!" echoed Mrs. Hare.

"Cornelia is not well; she had caught a violent cold, and wishes Barbara to spend the day with her."

"Oh, Mr. Carlyle, I cannot leave mamma to-day. She is not well herself, and she would be dull without me."

"Neither can I spare her, Archibald. It is not a day for Barbara to go out."

How could he get to say a word to Barbara alone? Whilst he deliberated, talking on, though, all the while to Mrs. Hare, a servant appeared at the sitting-room door.

"The fishmonger's boy is come up, ma'am. His master has sent him to say that he fears there'll be no fish in to-day, in anything like time. The trains won't get up, with this weather."

Mrs. Hare rose from her seat to hold a confab at the door with the maid; and Mr. Carlyle seized his opportunity.

"Barbara," he whispered, "make no opposition. You must come. What I really want you for is connected with Richard."

She looked up at him, a startled glance, and the crimson flew to her face. Mrs. Hare returned to her seat. "Oh, such a day!" she shivered. "I am sure Cornelia cannot expect Barbara."

"But Cornelia does. And there is my pony carriage waiting to take her before I go to the office. Not a flake of snow can come near her, Mrs.

Hare. The large warm ap.r.o.n will be up, and an umbrella shield her bonnet and face. Get your things on, Barbara."

"Mamma if you would not very much mind being left, I should like to go,"

said Barbara, with almost trembling eagerness.

"But you would be sure to take cold, child."

"Oh, dear no. I can wrap up well."

"And I will see that she comes home all right this evening," added Mr.

Carlyle.

In a few minutes they were seated in the pony carriage. Barbara's tongue was burning to ask questions, but John sat behind them, and would have overheard. When they arrived at East Lynne, Mr. Carlyle gave her his arm up the steps, and took her into the breakfast-room.

"Will you prepare yourself for a surprise, Barbara?"

Suspense--fear--had turned her very pale. "Something that has happened to Richard!" she uttered.

"Nothing that need agitate you. He is here."

"Here? Where?

"Here. Under this roof. He slept here last night."

"Oh, Archibald!"

"Only fancy, Barbara, I opened the window at nine last night to look at the weather, and in burst Richard. We could not let him go out again in the snow, so he slept here, in that room next Cornelia's."

"Does she know of it?"

"Of course. And Joyce also; we were obliged to tell Joyce. It is he you have come to spend the day with. But just imagine Richard's fear. Your father came this morning, calling up the stairs after me, saying he heard Richard was here. I thought Richard would have gone out of his mind with fright."

A few more explanations, and Mr. Carlyle took Barbara into the room, Miss Carlyle and her knitting still keeping Richard company. In fact, that was to be the general sitting room of the day, and a hot lunch, Richard's dinner, would be served to Miss Carlyle's chamber at one o'clock. Joyce only admitted to wait on her.

"And now I must go," said Mr. Carlyle, after chatting a few minutes.

"The office is waiting for me, and my poor ponies are in the snow."

"But you'll be sure to be home early, Mr. Carlyle," said Richard. "I dare not stop here; I must be off not a moment later than six or seven o'clock."

"I will be home, Richard."

Anxiously did Richard and Barbara consult that day, Miss Carlyle of course putting in her word. Over and over again did Barbara ask the particulars of the slight interviews Richard had had with Thorn; over and over again did she openly speculate upon what his name really was.

"If you could but discover some one whom he knows, and inquire it," she exclaimed.

"I have seen him with one person, but I can't inquire of him. They are too thick together, he and Thorn, and are birds of a feather also, I suspect. Great swells both."

"Oh, Richard don't use those expressions. They are unsuited to a gentleman."

Richard laughed bitterly. "A gentleman?"

"Who is it you have seen Thorn with?" inquired Barbara.

"Sir Francis Levison," replied Richard, glancing at Miss Carlyle, who drew in her lips ominously.

"With whom?" uttered Barbara, betraying complete astonishment. "Do you know Sir Francis Levison?"

"Oh, yes, I know him. Nearly the only man about town that I do know."

Barbara seemed lost in a puzzled reverie, and it was some time before she aroused herself from it.

"Are they at all alike?" she asked.

"Very much so, I suspect. Both bad men."

"But I meant in person."

"Not in the least. Except that they are both tall."

Again Barbara sank into thought. Richard's words had surprised her. She was aroused by it from hearing a child's voice in the next room. She ran into it, and Miss Carlyle immediately fastened the intervening door.

It was little Archibald Carlyle. Joyce had come in with the tray to lay the luncheon, and before she could lock the door, Archibald ran in after her. Barbara lifted him in her arms to carry him back to the nursery.

"Oh, you heavy boy!" she exclaimed.

Archie laughed. "Wilson says that," he lisped, "if ever she has to carry me."

"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."