“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 apron 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.