Part 45 (1/2)

”And who was the murderer--in your mamma's dream?” continued Mr.

Carlyle, speaking as gravely as though he were upon a subject that men ridicule not.

”She cannot remember, except that he seemed a gentleman, and that we held intercourse with him as such. Now, that again is remarkable. We never told her, you know, of our suspicions of Captain Thorn.”

”I think you must be becoming a convert to the theory of dreams yourself, Barbara; you are so very earnest,” smiled Mr. Carlyle.

”No, not to dreams; but I am earnest for my dear brother Richard's sake.”

”That Thorn does not appear in a hurry again to favor West Lynne with his----”

Mr. Carlyle paused, for Barbara had hurriedly laid her hand upon his arm, with a warning gesture. In talking they had wandered across the park to its ornamental grounds, and were now in a quiet path, overshadowed on the other side by a chain of imitation rocks. Seated astride on the summit of these rocks, right above where Mr. Carlyle and Barbara were standing was Francis Levison. His face was turned from them and he appeared intent upon a child's whip, winding leather round its handle. Whether he heard their footsteps or not, he did not turn. They quickened their pace, and quitted the walk, bending their steps backward toward the group of ladies.

”Could he have heard what we were saying?” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Barbara, below her breath.

Mr. Carlyle looked down upon the concerned, flushed cheeks with a smile.

Barbara was so evidently perturbed. But for a certain episode of their lives, some years ago, he might have soothed her tenderly.

”I think he must have heard a little, Barbara, unless his wits were wool-gathering. He might not be attending. What if he did hear? It is of no consequence.”

”I was speaking, you know, of Captain Thorn--of his being the murderer.”

”You were not speaking of Richard or his movements, so never mind.

Levison is a stranger to the whole. It is nothing to him. If he did hear the name of Thorn mentioned, or even distinguished the subject, it would bear for him no interest--would go, as the saying runs, 'in at one ear and out at the other.' Be at rest, Barbara.”

He really did look somewhat tenderly upon her as he spoke--and they were near enough to Lady Isabel for her to note the glance. She need not have been jealous: it bore no treachery to her. But she did note it; she had noted also their wandering away together, and she jumped to the conclusion that it was premeditated, that they had gone beyond her sight to enjoy each other's society for a few stolen moments. Wonderfully attractive looked Barbara that evening, for Mr. Carlyle or any one else to steal away with. Her tasty, elegant airy summer attire, her bright blue eyes, her charming features, and her damask cheeks! She had untied the strings of her pretty white bonnet, and was restlessly playing with them, more in thought than nervousness.

”Barbara, love, how are we to get home?” asked Mrs. Hare. ”I do fear I shall never walk it. I wish I had told Benjamin to bring the phaeton.”

”I can send to him,” said Mr. Carlyle.

”But it is too bad of me, Archibald, to take you and Lady Isabel by storm in this unceremonious manner; and to give your servants trouble besides.”

”A great deal too bad, I think,” returned Mr. Carlyle, with mock gravity. ”As to the servants, the one who has to go will never get over the trouble, depend upon it. You always were more concerned for others than for yourself, dear Mrs. Hare.”

”And you were always kind, Archibald, smoothing difficulties for all, and making a trouble of nothing. Ah, Lady Isabel, were I a young woman, I should be envying you your good husband; there are not many like him.”

Possibly the sentence reminded Lady Isabel that another, who was young, might be envying her, for her cheeks--Isabel's--flushed crimson. Mr.

Carlyle held out his strong arm of help to Mrs. Hare.

”If sufficiently rested, I fancy you would be more comfortable on a sofa indoors. Allow me to support you thither.”

”And you can take my arm on the other side,” cried Miss Carlyle, placing her tall form by Mrs. Hare. ”Between us both we will pull you bravely along; your feet need scarcely touch the ground.”

Mrs. Hare laughed, but said she thought Mr. Carlyle's arm would be sufficient. She took it, and they were turning toward the house, when her eye caught the form of a gentleman pa.s.sing along the road by the park gate.

”Barbara, run,” she hurriedly exclaimed. ”There's Tom Herbert going toward our house, and he will just call in and tell them to send the phaeton, if you ask him, which will save the trouble to Mr. Carlyle's servants of going expressly. Make haste, child! You will be up with him in half a minute.”

Barbara, thus urged, set off, on the spur of the moment, toward the gates, before the rest of the party well knew what was being done. It was too late for Mr. Carlyle to stop her and repeat that the servant should go, for Barbara was already up with Mr. Tom Herbert. The latter had seen her running toward him, and waited at the gate.