“Left?” uttered Barbara.
Mr. Carlyle explained. He told her how they had
come to his house the previous evening after Barbara’s
departure, and his encounter with Tom Herbert that
day; he mentioned, also, his interview with Bethel.
“Can he have gone on purpose, fearing consequences?”
wondered Barbara.
“Scarcely; or why should he have come?”
“You did not suffer any word to escape you last
night causing him to suspect for a moment that he
was hounded?”
“Not any. You would make a bad lawyer,
Barbara.”
“Who or what is he?”
“An officer in her majesty’s service,
in John Herbert’s regiment. I ascertained
no more. Tom said he was of good family.
But I cannot help suspecting it is the same man.”
“Can nothing more be done?”
“Nothing in the present stage of the affair,”
continued Mr. Carlyle, as he passed through the gate
to continue his way. “We can only wait on
again with what patience we may, hoping that time will
bring about its own elucidation.”
Barbara pressed her forehead down on the cold iron
of the gate as his footsteps died away. “Aye,
to wait on,” she murmured, “to wait on
in dreary pain; to wait on, perhaps, for years, perhaps
forever! And poor Richard—wearing
out his days in poverty and exile!”
GOING FROM HOME.
“I should recommend a complete change of scene
altogether, Mr. Carlyle. Say some place on the
French or Belgian coast. Sea bathing might do
wonders.”
“Should you think it well for her to go so far
from home?”
“I should. In these cases of protracted
weakness, where you can do nothing but try to coax
the strength back again, change of air and scene are
of immense benefit.”
“I will propose it to her,” said Mr. Carlyle.
“I have just done so,” replied Dr. Martin,
who was the other speaker. “She met it
with objection, which I expected, for invalids naturally
feel a disinclination to move from home. But it
is necessary that she should go.”
The object of their conversation was Lady Isabel.
Years had gone on, and there were three children now
at East Lynne—Isabel, William, and Archibald—the
latter twelve months old. Lady Isabel had, a month
or two back, been attacked with illness; she recovered
from the disorder; but it had left her in an alarming
state of weakness; she seemed to get worse instead
of better, and Dr. Martin was summoned from Lynneborough.
The best thing he could recommend—as you
save seen—was change of air.
