e must inform his wife of his inability to keep his dinner
engagement. Mr. Carlyle was one who never hesitated to sacrifice
personal gratification to friendship or to business.

The chariot was at the door, and Lady Isabel dressed and waiting for him
in her dressing-room. "Did you forget that the Jeffersons dined at six?"
was her greeting.

"No, Isabel; but it was impossible for me to get here before. And I
should not have come so soon, but to tell you that I cannot accompany
you. You must make my excuses to Mrs. Jefferson."

A pause. Strange thoughts were running through Lady Isabel's mind. "Why
so?" she inquired.

"Some business has arisen which I am compelled to attend to this
evening. As soon as I have snatched a bit of dinner at home I must
hasten back to the office."

Was he making this excuse to spend the hours of her absence with Barbara
Hare? The idea that it was so took firm possession of her mind, and
remained there. Her face expressed a variety of feelings, the most
prominent that of resentment. Mr. Carlyle saw it.

"You must not be vexed, Isabel. I assure you it is no fault of mine.
It is important private business which cannot be put off, and which I
cannot delegate to Dill. I am sorry it should have so happened."

"You never return to the office in the evening," she remarked, with pale
lips.

"No; because if anything arises to take us there after hours, Dill
officiates. But the business to-night must be done by myself."

Another pause. Lady Isabel suddenly broke it. "Shall you join us later
in the evening?"

"I believe I shall not be able to do so."

She drew her light shawl around her shoulders, and swept down the
staircase. Mr. Carlyle followed to place her in the carriage. When he
said farewell, she never answered but looked out straight before her
with a stony look.

"What time, my lady?" inquired the footman, as he alighted at Mrs.
Jefferson's.

"Early. Half-past nine."

A little before eight o'clock, Richard Hare, in his smock-frock and his
slouching hat and his false whiskers, rang dubiously at the outer door
of Mr. Carlyle's office. That gentleman instantly opened it. He was
quite alone.

"Come in, Richard," said he, grasping his hand. "Did you meet any whom
you knew?"

"I never looked at whom I met, sir," was the reply. "I thought that if
I looked at people, they might look at me, so I came straight ahead with
my eyes before me. How the place has altered! There's a new brick