ridiculous enough. She gave him no time to comment upon it, however, but
instantly and curtly asked,--

"Who have you got in that room?"

"It is some one on business," was his prompt reply. "Cornelia, you
cannot go in."

She very nearly laughed. "Not go in?"

"Indeed it is much better that you should not. Pray go back. You will
make your cold worse, standing here.

"Now, I want to know whether you are not ashamed of yourself?" she
deliberately pursued. "You! A married man, with children in your house!
I'd rather have believed anything downright wicked of myself, than of
you, Archibald."

Mr. Carlyle stared considerably.

"Come; I'll have her out. And out of this house she tramps to-morrow
morning. A couple of audacious ones, to be in there with the door
locked, the moment you thought you had got rid of me! Stand aside, I
say, Archibald, I will enter."

Mr. Carlyle never felt more inclined to laugh. And, to Miss Carlyle's
exceeding discomposure she, at this juncture, saw the governess emerge
from the gray parlor, glance at the hall clock, and retire again.

"Why! She's there," she uttered. "I thought she was with you."

"Miss Manning, locked in with me! Is that the mare's nest, Cornelia? I
think your cold must have obscured your reason."

"Well, I shall go in, all the same. I tell you, Archibald, that I will
see who is there."

"If you persist in going in, you must go. But allow me to warn you that
you will find tragedy in that room, not comedy. There is no woman in it,
but there is a man; a man who came in through the window, like a hunted
stag; a man upon whom a ban is set, who fears the police are upon his
track. Can you guess his name?"

It was Miss Carlyle's turn to stare now. She opened her dry lips to
speak, but they closed again.

"It is Richard Hare, your kinsman. There's not a roof in the wide world
open to him this bitter night."

She said nothing. A long pause of dismay, and then she motioned to have
the door opened.

"You will not show yourself--in--in that guise?"

"Not show myself in this guise to Richard Hare--whom I have
whipped--when he was a child--ten times a day! Stand on ceremony with
_him_! I dare say he looks no better than I do. But it's nothing short
of madness, Archibald, for him to come here."

He left her to enter, telling her to lock the door as soon as she was
inside, and went himself into the adjoining room, the one which, by
another door, opened to the one Richard