‘Miss Barbara!’
They stood still looking at each other in the twilight. One of her white hands was gloveless.
‘What has brought you here?’ asked Barbara, stooping and picking up her whip with one hand, and gathering her habit with the other.
‘I heard that you had lost something.’
‘Yes; I was thoughtless. I was warm, and I hastily whisked off my glove that I might pass my hand over my brow, and I felt as I plucked the glove away that my aunt’s ring came off. It was not a good fit. I was so foolish, so unnerved, that I let drop the glove—and now can find neither. The ring, I suspect, is in the glove, but I cannot find that. So I sent on Johnny Ostler for the lantern. I supposed he would return with it.’
‘I took the liberty of coming myself, he is a boy and tired with his long journey; besides, the horses have to be attended to. I hope you are not displeased.’
‘On the contrary,’ she replied, in her frank, kindly tone, ‘I am glad to see you. When one has been from home a long distance, it is pleasant to meet a messenger from home to say how all are.’
‘And it is pleasant for the messenger to bring good tidings. Mr. Jordan is well; Miss Eve happy as a butterfly in summer over a clover field.’
If it had not been dusk, and Barbara had not turned her head aside, Jasper would have seen a change in her face. She suddenly bowed herself and recommenced her search.
‘I am very, very sorry,’ she said, in a low tone, ‘I am not able to be a pleasant messenger to you. I am——’ she half raised herself, her voice was full of sympathy. ‘I am more sorry than I can say.’