On the morning following this, as the Hare family were seated at breakfast, the postman was observed coming toward the house. Barbara sprang from her seat to the open window, and the man advanced to her.
"Only one miss. It is for yourself."
"Who is it from?" began the justice, as Barbara returned to her chair.
In letters as in other things, he was always curious to know their contents, whether they might be addressed to himself or not.
"It is from Anne, papa," replied Barbara, as she laid the letter by her side on the table.
"Why don't you open it and see what she says?"
"I will, directly; I am just going to pour out some more tea for mamma."
Finally the justice finished his breakfast, and strolled out into the garden.
Barbara opened her letter; Mrs. Hare watched her movements and her countenance. She saw the latter flush suddenly and vividly, and then become deadly pale; she saw Barbara crush the note in her hand when read.
"Oh, mamma!" she uttered.
The flush of emotion came also into Mrs. Hare's delicate cheeks.
"Barbara, is it bad news?"
"Mamma, it--it--is about Richard," she whispered, glancing at the door and window, to see that none might be within sight or hearing. "I never thought of him; I only fancied Anne might be sending me some bit of news concerning her own affairs. Good Heavens! How fortunate--how providential that papa did not see the paper fall; and that you did not persist in your inquiries. If he--"
"Barbara, you are keeping me in suspense," interrupted Mrs. Hare, who had also grown white. "What should Anne know about Richard?"
Barbara smoothed out the writing, and held it before her mother. It was as follows:--"I have had a curious note from R. It was without date or signature, but I knew his handwriting. He tells me to let you know, in the most sure and private manner that I can, that he will soon be paying another night visit. You are to watch the grove every evening when the present moon gets bright."
Mrs. Hare covered her face for some minutes. "Thank God for all his mercies," she murmured.
"Oh, mamma, but it is an awful risk for him to run!"
"But to know that he is in life--to know that he is in life! And for the risk--Barbara, I dread it not. The same God who protected him through the last visit, will protect him through this. He will not forsake the oppressed, the innocent. Destroy the paper, child."
"Archibald Carlyle must first see it, mamma."
"I shall not be easy until it is destroyed, Barbara."
Braving the comments of the gossips, hoping the visit would not reach the ears or eyes of the justice, Barbara went that day to the office of Mr. Carlyle. He was not there, he was at West Lynne; he had gone to Lynneborough on business, and Mr. Dill thought it a question if he would be at the office again that day. If so, it would be late in the afternoon. Barbara, as soon as their own dinner was over, took up her patient station at the gate, hoping to see him pass; but the time went by and he did not. She had little doubt that he had returned home without going to West Lynne.
What should she do? "Go up to East Lynne and see him," said her conscience. Barbara's mind was in a strangely excited state. It appeared to her that this visit of Richard's must have been specially designed by Providence, that he might be confronted by Thorn.
"Mamma," she said, returning indoors, after seeing the justice depart upon an evening visit to the Buck's Head, where he and certain other justices and gentlemen sometimes congregated to smoke and chat, "I shall go up to East Lynne, if you have no objection. I must see Mr. Carlyle."
Away went Barbara. It had struck seven when she arrived at East Lynne.
"Is Mr. Carlyle disengaged?"
"Mr. Carlyle is not yet home, miss. My lady and Miss Carlyle are waiting dinner for him."
A check for Barbara. The servant asked her to walk in, but she declined and turned from the door. She was in no mood for visit paying.
Lady Isabel had been standing at the window watching for her husband and wondering what made him so late. She observed Barbara approach the house, and saw her walk away again. Presently the servant who had answered the door, entered the drawing-room.
"Was not that Miss Hare?"
"Yes, my lady," was the man's reply. "She wanted master. I said your ladyship was at home, but she would not enter."
Isabel said no more; she caught the eyes of Francis Levison fixed on her with as much meaning, compassionate meaning, as they dared express. She clasped her hands in pain, and turned again to the window.
Barbara was slowly walking down the avenue, Mr. Carlyle was then in sight, walking quickly up it. Lady Isabel saw their hands meet in greeting.
"Oh, I am so thankful to have met you!" Barbara exclaimed to him, impulsively. "I actually went to your office to-day, and I have been now to your house. We have such news!"
"Ay! What? About Thorn?"
"No; about Richard," replied Barbara, taking the scrap of paper from the folds of her dress. "This came to me this morning from Anne."
Mr. Carlyle took the document, and Barbara looked over him whilst he read it; neither of them thinking that Lady Isabel's jealous eyes, and Captain Levison's evil ones, were strained upon them from the distant windows. Miss Carlyle's also, for the matter of that.
"Archibald, it seems to me that Providence must be directing him hither at this moment. Our suspicions with regard to Thorn can now be set at rest. You must contrive that Richard shall see him. What can he be coming again for?"
"More money," was the supposition of Mr. Carlyle. "Does Mrs. Hare know of this?"
"She does, unfortunately. I opened the paper before her, never dreaming it was connected with Richard--poor, unhappy Richard!--and not to be guilty."
"He acted as though he were guilty, Barbara; and that line of conduct often entails as much trouble as real guilt."
"You do not believe him guilty?" she most passionately uttered.
"I do not. I have little doubt of the guilt of Thorn."
