“Barbara!” said Mrs. Hare.

“What, mamma?”

“I am sorry to hear of the calamity which has fallen upon Joyce!  I should like to walk to East Lynne this evening and inquire after her, and see her, if I may; it would be but neighborly.  I feel quite equal to it.  Since I have accustomed myself to take more exercise I feel better for it, you know; and we have not been out to-day.  Poor Joyce!  What time shall we go, Barbara?”

“If we were to get there by—­by seven, I should think; their dinner will be over then.”

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Hare, with alacrity, who was always pleased when somebody else decided for her.  “But I should like some tea before we start, Barbara.”

Barbara took care that her mamma should have some tea and then they proceeded toward East Lynne.  It was a lovely evening—­the air warm, and the humming gnats sported in it as if to make the most of the waning summer.  Mrs. Hare enjoyed it at first, but ere she reached East Lynne, she became aware that the walk was too much for her.  She did not usually venture upon half so long a one, and probably the fever and agitation of the morning had somewhat impaired her day’s strength.  She laid her hand upon the iron gate as they turned into the park, and stood still.

“I did wrong to come, Barbara.”

“Lean on me, mamma.  When you reach those benches, you can take a good rest before proceeding to the house.  It is very warm, and that may have fatigued you.”

They gained the benches, which were placed under some of the park trees, in front of the gates and the road, but not of the house, and Mrs. Hare sat down.  Another minute and they were surrounded.  Mr. Carlyle, his wife, and sister, who were taking an after-dinner stroll amidst the flowers with their guest, Francis Levison, discerned them, and came up.  The children, except the youngest, were of the party.  Lady Isabel warmly welcomed Mrs. Hare; she had become quite attached to the delicate and suffering woman.

“A pretty one, I am, am I not, Archibald, to come inquiring after one invalid, and am so much of an invalid myself that I have to stop half-way?” Mrs. Hare exclaimed, as Mr. Carlyle shook her hand.  “I was so greatly concerned to hear of poor Joyce.”

“You must stay the evening, now you are here,” cried Lady Isabel.  “It will afford you a good rest; and tea will refresh you.”

“Oh thank you, but we have taken tea,” said Mrs. Hare.

“There is no reason why you should not take some more,” she laughed.  “Indeed, you seem too fatigued to be anything but a prisoner with us for the next hour or two.”

“I fear I am,” answered Mrs. Hare.

“Who the dickens are they?” Captain Levison was muttering to himself, as he contemplated the guests from a distance.  “It’s a deuced pretty girl, whoever she may be.  I think I’ll approach, they don’t look formidable.”

He did approach, and the introduction was made:  “Captain Levison, Mrs. Hare and Miss Hare.”  A few formal words, and Captain Levison disappeared again, challenging little William Carlyle to a foot-race.