chain given her by Mr.
Carlyle--strange that she had not discarded that.

They stood together at the window, looking at Mr. Carlyle as he came
up the avenue. He saw them, and nodded. Lady Isabel watched the damask
cheeks turn to crimson at sight of him.

"How do you do, Barbara?" he cried, as he shook hands. "Come to pay us
a visit at last? You have been rather tardy over it. And how are you,
my darling?" he whispered over his wife; but she missed his kiss of
greeting. Well, would she have had him give it her in public? No; but
she was in the mood to notice the omission.

Dinner over, Miss Carlyle beguiled Barbara out of doors. Barbara would
far rather have remained in _his_ presence. Of course they discussed
Lady Isabel.

"How do you like her?" abruptly asked Barbara, alluding to Lady Isabel.

"Better than I thought I should," acknowledged Miss Carlyle. "I had
expected airs and graces and pretence, and I must say she is free from
them. She seems quite wrapped up in Archibald and watches for his coming
home like a cat watches for a mouse. She is dull without him."

Barbara compelled her manner to indifference. "I suppose it is natural."

"I suppose it is absurd," was the retort of Miss Carlyle. "I give them
little of my company, especially in an evening. They go strolling out
together, or she sings to him, he hanging over her as if she were of
gold: to judge by appearances, she is more precious to him than any gold
that was ever coined into money. I'll tell you what I saw last night.
Archibald had what he is not often subject to, a severe headache, and he
went into the next room after dinner, and lay on the sofa. She carried
a cup of tea to him, and never came back, leaving her own on the table
till it was perfectly cold. I pushed open the door to tell her so. There
was my lady's cambric handkerchief, soaked in eau-de-Cologne, lying on
his forehead; and there was my lady herself, kneeling down and looking
at him, he with his arm thrown around her there. Now I just ask you,
Barbara, whether there's any sense in fadding with a man like that? If
ever he did have a headache before he was married, I used to mix him
up a good dose of salts and senna, and tell him to go to bed early and
sleep the pain off."

Barbara made no reply, but she turned her face from Miss Carlyle.

On Barbara's return to the house, she found that Mr. Carlyle and Lady
Isabel were in the adjoining room, at the piano, and Barbara had an
opport