home?"

"No. I shall go on to Beauchamp's and show him this, and hear what he
says. It's not much farther."

"Tell him not to speak of it then. Beauchamp's safe, for his sympathies
are with Richard--oh, yes, they are, justice, ask him the question
plainly if you like, and he will confess to it. I can tell you more
sympathy goes with Richard than is acknowledged to you. But I would
not show that letter to anyone else than Beauchamp," added Mr. Carlyle,
"neither would I speak of it."

"Who can have written it?" repeated the justice. "It bears, you see the
London Post-mark."

"It is too wide a speculation to enter upon. And no satisfactory
conclusion could come of it."

Justice Hare departed. Mr. Carlyle watched him down the avenue, striding
under his umbrella, and then went up to Richard. Miss Carlyle was
sitting with the latter then.

"I thought I should have died," spoke poor Dick. "I declare, Mr.
Carlyle, my very blood seemed turned to water, and I thought I should
have died with fright. Is he gone away--is all safe?"

"He is gone, and it's all safe."

"And what did he want? What was it he had heard about me?"

Mr. Carlyle gave a brief explanation, and Richard immediately set down
the letter as the work of Thorn.

"Will it be possible for me to see my mother this time?" he demanded of
Mr. Carlyle.

"I think it would be highly injudicious to let your mother know you
are here, or have been here," was the answer of Mr. Carlyle. "She would
naturally be inquiring into particulars, and when she came to hear that
you were pursued, she would never have another minute's peace. You must
forego the pleasure of seeing her this time, Richard."

"And Barbara?"

"Barbara might come and stay the day with you. Only----"

"Only what, sir?" cried Richard, for Mr. Carlyle had hesitated.

"I was thinking what a wretched morning it is for her to come out in."

"She would go through an avalanche--she'd wade through mountains of
snow, to see me," cried Richard eagerly, "and be delighted to do it."

"She always was a little fool," put in Miss Carlyle, jerking some
stitches out of her knitting.

"I know she would," observed Mr. Carlyle, in answer to Richard. "We will
try and get her here."

"She can arrange about the money I am to have, just as well as my mother
could you know, sir."

"Yes; for Barbara is in receipt of money of her own now, and I know she
would not wish better than to apply some of it to you. Cornelia