East Lynne [135]
before I had done with him."
"Will it be the means of causing Richard's detection?" murmured Mrs. Hare from between her dry lips.
"No, no," warmly responded Mr. Carlyle. "Had the report arisen immediately after he was really here, it might not have been so pleasant; but nearly two years have elapsed since the period. Be under no uneasiness, dear Mrs. Hare, for rely upon it there is no cause."
"But how /could/ it have come out, Archibald?" she urged, "and at this distant period of time?"
"I assure you I am quite at a loss to imagine. Had anybody at West Lynne seen and recognized Richard, they would have spoken of it at the time. Do not let it trouble you; the rumor will die away."
Mrs. Hare sighed deeply, and left the room to proceed to her own chamber. Barbara and Mr. Carlyle were alone.
"Oh, that the real murderer could be discovered!" she aspirated, clasping her hands. "To be subjected to these shocks of fear is dreadful. Mamma will not be herself for days to come."
"I wish the right man could be found; but it seems as far off as ever," remarked Mr. Carlyle.
Barbara sat ruminating. It seemed that she would say something to Mr. Carlyle, but a feeling caused her to hesitate. When she did at length speak, it was in a low, timid voice.
"You remember the description Richard gave, that last night, of the person he had met--the true Thorn?"
"Yes."
"Did it strike you then--has it ever occurred to you to think--that it accorded with some one?"
"In what way, Barbara?" he asked, after a pause. "It accorded with the description Richard always gave of the man Thorn."
"Richard spoke of the peculiar movement of throwing off the hair from the forehead--in this way. Did that strike you as being familiar, in connection with the white hand and the diamond ring?"
"Many have a habit of pushing off their hair--I think I do it myself sometimes. Barbara, what do you mean? Have you a suspicion of any one?"
"Have you?" she returned, answering the question by asking another.
"I have not. Since Captain Thorn was disposed of, my suspicions have not pointed anywhere."
This sealed Barbara's lips. She had hers, vague doubts, bringing wonder more than anything else. At times she had thought the same doubts might have occurred to Mr. Carlyle; she now found that they had not. The terrible domestic calamity which had happened to Mr. Carlyle the same night that Richard protested he had seen Thorn, had prevented Barbara's discussing the matter with him then, and she had never done so since. Richard had never been further heard of, and the affair had remained in abeyance.
"I begin to despair of its ever being discovered," she observed. "What will become of poor Richard?"
"We can but wait, and hope that time may bring forth its own elucidation," continued Mr. Carlyle.
"Ah," sighed Barbara, "but it is weary waiting--weary, weary."
"How is it you contrive to get under the paternal displeasure?" he resumed, in a gayer tone.
She blushed vividly, and it was her only answer.
"The Major Thorn alluded to by your papa is our old friend, I presume?"
Barbara inclined her head.
"He is a very pleasant man, Barbara. Many a young lady in West Lynne would be proud to get him."
There was a pause. Barbara broke it, but she did not look at Mr. Carlyle as she spoke.
"The other rumor--is it a correct one?"
"What other rumor?"
"That you are to marry Louisa Dobede."
"It is not. I have no intention of marrying any one. Nay, I will say it more strongly; it is my intention not to marry any one--to remain as I am."
Barbara lifted her eyes to his in the surprise of the moment.
"You look amused, Barbara. Have you been lending your credence to the gossips, who have so kindly disposed of me to Louisa Dobede?"
"Not so. But Louisa Dobede is a girl to be coveted, and, as mamma says, it might be happier for you if you married again. I thought you would be sure to do so."
"No. She--who was my wife--lives."
"What of that?" uttered Barbara, in simplicity.
He did not answer for a moment, and
"Will it be the means of causing Richard's detection?" murmured Mrs. Hare from between her dry lips.
"No, no," warmly responded Mr. Carlyle. "Had the report arisen immediately after he was really here, it might not have been so pleasant; but nearly two years have elapsed since the period. Be under no uneasiness, dear Mrs. Hare, for rely upon it there is no cause."
"But how /could/ it have come out, Archibald?" she urged, "and at this distant period of time?"
"I assure you I am quite at a loss to imagine. Had anybody at West Lynne seen and recognized Richard, they would have spoken of it at the time. Do not let it trouble you; the rumor will die away."
Mrs. Hare sighed deeply, and left the room to proceed to her own chamber. Barbara and Mr. Carlyle were alone.
"Oh, that the real murderer could be discovered!" she aspirated, clasping her hands. "To be subjected to these shocks of fear is dreadful. Mamma will not be herself for days to come."
"I wish the right man could be found; but it seems as far off as ever," remarked Mr. Carlyle.
Barbara sat ruminating. It seemed that she would say something to Mr. Carlyle, but a feeling caused her to hesitate. When she did at length speak, it was in a low, timid voice.
"You remember the description Richard gave, that last night, of the person he had met--the true Thorn?"
"Yes."
"Did it strike you then--has it ever occurred to you to think--that it accorded with some one?"
"In what way, Barbara?" he asked, after a pause. "It accorded with the description Richard always gave of the man Thorn."
"Richard spoke of the peculiar movement of throwing off the hair from the forehead--in this way. Did that strike you as being familiar, in connection with the white hand and the diamond ring?"
"Many have a habit of pushing off their hair--I think I do it myself sometimes. Barbara, what do you mean? Have you a suspicion of any one?"
"Have you?" she returned, answering the question by asking another.
"I have not. Since Captain Thorn was disposed of, my suspicions have not pointed anywhere."
This sealed Barbara's lips. She had hers, vague doubts, bringing wonder more than anything else. At times she had thought the same doubts might have occurred to Mr. Carlyle; she now found that they had not. The terrible domestic calamity which had happened to Mr. Carlyle the same night that Richard protested he had seen Thorn, had prevented Barbara's discussing the matter with him then, and she had never done so since. Richard had never been further heard of, and the affair had remained in abeyance.
"I begin to despair of its ever being discovered," she observed. "What will become of poor Richard?"
"We can but wait, and hope that time may bring forth its own elucidation," continued Mr. Carlyle.
"Ah," sighed Barbara, "but it is weary waiting--weary, weary."
"How is it you contrive to get under the paternal displeasure?" he resumed, in a gayer tone.
She blushed vividly, and it was her only answer.
"The Major Thorn alluded to by your papa is our old friend, I presume?"
Barbara inclined her head.
"He is a very pleasant man, Barbara. Many a young lady in West Lynne would be proud to get him."
There was a pause. Barbara broke it, but she did not look at Mr. Carlyle as she spoke.
"The other rumor--is it a correct one?"
"What other rumor?"
"That you are to marry Louisa Dobede."
"It is not. I have no intention of marrying any one. Nay, I will say it more strongly; it is my intention not to marry any one--to remain as I am."
Barbara lifted her eyes to his in the surprise of the moment.
"You look amused, Barbara. Have you been lending your credence to the gossips, who have so kindly disposed of me to Louisa Dobede?"
"Not so. But Louisa Dobede is a girl to be coveted, and, as mamma says, it might be happier for you if you married again. I thought you would be sure to do so."
"No. She--who was my wife--lives."
"What of that?" uttered Barbara, in simplicity.
He did not answer for a moment, and