“And I do believe,” after another pause, “that the two girls’ lives will be passed as unostentatiously as if the money had not come to them.”

“Why do you speak as if the money had come to both?” asked Miss Sherman, with a curious inflection of the voice.

“Did I?  I did not realize it.  But I will not change my words; for, unless I mistake much, the money will be Bettina’s as much as Barbara’s, and this, because Barbara will have it so.”

The words were hardly spoken by Mrs. Douglas when Mr. Sumner, who was riding backward and so facing the following carriage, sprang up, crying in a low, smothered tone of alarm, “Barbara!”

But Mrs. Douglas had not time to turn before he sank back saying:  “Excuse me.  I must have been mistaken.  I thought that something was the matter; that Barbara had been taken ill.”

Then he added, in explanation to his sister:  “The carriage was so far back, as it rounded a curve, permitting me to look into it, that I could not see very distinctly.”

Miss Sherman bit her lip and rode on in silence.  Mr. Sumner’s concern for Barbara seemed painfully evident to her.  She had much that was disagreeable to think of, for it was impossible to avoid contrasting herself with the picture of Barbara which Mrs. Douglas had drawn.  She thought of the sister at home who so patiently, year after year, had given up her own cherished desires that she might be gratified; who had needed, far more than she herself had, the change and rest of this year abroad, but whom she had forced to return with the father, even though she knew well it was her own duty to go,—­how many such instances of selfishness had filled her life!

She felt that she could almost hate this fortunate Barbara, who so easily was gaining all the things she herself coveted,—­admiration,—­wealth,—­love? no, not if she could help it! and she forced herself to smile, to praise the same qualities of heart that Mrs. Douglas had admired; to talk pityingly of the miserable ones of earth; adoringly of self-sacrificing, heroic deeds, and sympathizingly of noble endeavor.

* * * * *

What had been the matter in the other carriage?  After the burst of gayety with which the three girls and Malcom had greeted the swifter equipage as it rolled past theirs, nothing was said for some time, until Malcom suddenly burst out with the expression of what had evidently been the subject of his thought:—­

“Girls, do you think that Uncle Robert is falling in love with Miss Sherman?”

The question fell like a bombshell into the little group.  Margery first found a voice, but it was a most awed, repressed one:—­

“Why, Malcom! could he ever love anybody again?  You know—­oh! what could make you think of such a thing?  It is not like you to make light of Uncle Robert’s feelings.”

“I am not doing so, Madge dear.  Men can love twice.  It would not hurt Margaret should he learn to love some one else.  And it would be ever so much better for him.  Uncle’s life seems very lonely to me.  Now he is busy with us; but just think of the long years when he is living and working over here all alone.  Still, I am sure I would not choose Miss Sherman for him.  Yet I am not certain but it looks some like it.  What do you think, Betty?”