been
quite angry over her being so weak and nervous, declaring that she ought
to rouse herself out of her 'nerves.' Of course we dare not tell him
about the dream."

"It related to--the----"

Mr. Carlyle stopped, and Barbara glanced round with a shudder, and drew
closer to him as she whispered. He had not given her his arm this time.

"Yes, to the murder. You know mamma has always declared that Bethel had
something to do with it; she says her dreams would have convinced her
of it, if nothing else did; and she dreamt she saw him with--with--you
know."

"Hallijohn?" whispered Mr. Carlyle.

"With Hallijohn," assented Barbara, with a shiver. "He was standing
over him as he lay on the floor; just as he _did_ lay on it. And that
wretched Afy was standing at the end of the kitchen, looking on."

"But Mrs. Hare ought not to suffer dreams to disturb her peace by day,"
remonstrated Mr. Carlyle. "It is not to be surprised at that she dreams
of the murder, because she is always dwelling upon it; but she should
strive and throw the feeling from her with the night."

"You know what mamma is. Of course she ought to do so, but she does not.
Papa wonders what makes her get up so ill and trembling of a morning;
and mamma has to make all sorts of evasive excuses; for not a hint, as
you are aware, must be breathed to him about the murder."

Mr. Carlyle gravely nodded.

"Mamma does so harp about Bethel. And I know that dream arose from
nothing in the world but because she saw him pass the gate yesterday.
Not that she thinks that it was he who did it; unfortunately, there is
no room for that; but she will persist that he had a hand in it in some
way, and he haunts her dreams."

Mr. Carlyle walked on in silence; indeed there was no reply that he
could make. A cloud had fallen upon the house of Mr. Hare, and it was an
unhappy subject. Barbara continued,--

"But for mamma to have taken it into her head that 'some evil is going
to happen,' because she had this dream, and to make herself miserable
over it, is so absurd, that I have felt quite cross with her all day.
Such nonsense, you know, Archibald, to believe that dreams give signs of
what is going to happen, so far behind these enlightened days!"

"Your mamma's trouble is great, Barbara; and she is not strong."

"I think all our troubles have been great since--since that dark
evening," responded Barbara.

"Have you heard from Anne?" inquired Mr. Carlyle, willing to change th