“Did you think I should allow you to go home in an open carriage to-night, Barbara?”
“Are you coming also?”
“I suppose I had better,” he smiled. “To see that you and the carriage do not get fixed in a rut.”
Barbara withdrew to her corner of the chariot, and cried silently. Very, very deeply did she mourn the unhappy situation—the privations of her brother; and she knew that he was one to feel them deeply. He could not battle with the world’s hardships so bravely as many could. Mr. Carlyle only detected her emotion as they were nearing the Grove. He leaned forward, took her hand, and held it between his.
“Don’t grieve, Barbara. Bright days may be in store for us yet.”
The carriage stopped.
“You may go back,” he said to the servants, when he alighted. “I shall walk home.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Barbara, “I do think you intend to spend the evening with us? Mamma will be so pleased.”
Her voice sounded as if she was also. Mr. Carlyle drew her hand within his arm as they walked up the path.
But Barbara had reckoned without her host. Mrs. Hare was in bed, consequently could not be pleased at the visit of Mr. Carlyle. The justice had gone out, and she, feeling tired and not well, thought she would retire to rest. Barbara stole into her room, but found her asleep, so that it fell to Barbara to entertain Mr. Carlyle.