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.”

“Oh, if it could but be brought home to him!” returned Barbara, “so that Richard might be cleared in the sight of day.  How can you contrive that he shall see Thorn?”

“I cannot tell; I must think it over.  Let me know the instant he arrives, Barbara.”

“Of course I shall.  It may be that he does not want money; that his errand is only to see mamma.  He was always so fond of her.”

“I must leave you,” said Mr. Carlyle, taking her hand in token of farewell.  Then, as a thought occurred to him, he turned and walked a few steps with her without releasing it.  He was probably unconscious that he retained it; she was not.

“You know, Barbara, if he should want money, and it be not convenient to Mrs. Hare to supply it at so short a notice, I can give it to him, as I did before.”

“Thank you, thank you, Archibald.  Mamma felt sure you would.”

She lifted her eyes to his with an expression of gratitude; a warmer feeling for an uncontrolled moment mingled with it.  Mr. Carlyle nodded pleasantly, and then set off toward his house at the pace of a steam engine.

Two minutes in his dressing-room, and he entered the drawing-room, apologizing for keeping them waiting dinner, and explaining that he had been compelled to go to his office to give some orders subsequent to his return to Lynneborough.  Lady Isabel’s lips were pressed together, and she preserved an obstinate silence.  Mr. Carlyle, in his unsuspicion, did not notice it.