terruptions from the
servants; and with a hundred pounds in his pocket, and desolation in his
heart, the ill-fated young man once more quitted his childhood's home.
Mrs. Hare and Barbara watched him steal down the path in the telltale
moonlight, and gain the road, both feeling that those farewell kisses
they had pressed upon his lips would not be renewed for years, and might
not be forever.

CHAPTER VII.

MISS CARLYLE AT HOME.

The church clocks at West Lynne struck eight one lovely morning in July,
and then the bells chimed out, giving token that it was Sunday.

East Lynne had changed owners, and now it was the property of Mr.
Carlyle. He had bought it as it stood, furniture and all; but the
transfer had been conducted with secrecy, and was suspected by none,
save those engaged in the negotiations. Whether Lord Mount Severn
thought it might prevent any one getting on the scent, or whether he
wished to take farewell of a place he had formerly been fond of, certain
it is that he craved a week or two's visit to it. Mr. Carlyle most
readily and graciously acquiesced; and the earl, his daughter, and
retinue had arrived the previous day.

West Lynne was in ecstacies. It called itself an aristocratic place, and
it indulged hopes that the earl might be intending to confer permanently
the light of his presence, by taking up his residence again at East
Lynne. The toilettes prepared to meet his admiring eyes were prodigious
and pretty Barbara Hare was not the only young lady who had thereby to
encounter the paternal storm.

Miss Carlyle was ready for church at the usual time, plainly, but
well dressed. As she and Archibald were leaving their house, they saw
something looming up the street, flashing and gleaming in the sun. A
pink parasol came first, a pink bonnet and feather came behind it, a
gray brocaded dress and white gloves.

"The vain little idiot!" ejaculated Miss Carlyle. But Barbara smiled up
the street toward them, unconscious of the apostrophe.

"Well done, Barbara!" was the salutation of Miss Carlyle. "The justice
might well call out--you are finer than a sunbeam!"

"Not half so fine as many another in the church will be to-day,"
responded Barbara, as she lifted her shy blue eyes and blushing face
to answer the greetings of Mr. Carlyle. "West Lynne seems bent on
out-dressing the Lady Isabel. You should have been at the milliner's
yesterday morning, Miss Carlyle."

"Is all the finery coming out to-day?