Part 73 (1/2)
”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 s.h.i.+vered. ”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 s.h.i.+eld 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.”