e remained at
his post, not looking at Barbara, not looking at anything in particular,
waiting till the interruption should have passed.

Barbara, under cover of her dainty lace parasol, turned her eyes upon
him. At that very moment he raised his right hand, slightly shook his
head back, and tossed his hair off his brow. His hand, ungloved, was
white and delicate as a lady's, and his rich diamond ring gleamed in the
sun. The pink flush on Barbara's cheek deepened to a crimson damask, and
her brow contracted with a remembrance of pain.

"The very action Richard described! The action he was always using at
East Lynne! I believe from my heart that the man is Thorn; that Richard
was laboring under some mistake when he said he knew Sir Francis
Levison."

She let her hands fall upon her knee as she spoke, heedless of the
candidate, heedless of the crowd, heedless of all save her own troubled
thoughts. A hundred respected salutations were offered her; she answered
them mechanically; a shout was raised, "Long live Carlyle! Carlyle
forever!" Barbara bowed her pretty head on either side, and the carriage
at length got on.

The parting of the crowd brought Mr. Dill, who had come to listen for
once to the speech of the second man, and Mr. Ebenezer James close
to each other. Mr. Ebenezer James was one who, for the last twelve or
fifteen years, had been trying his hand at many trades. And had not come
out particularly well at any. A rolling stone gathers no moss. First,
he had been clerk to Mr. Carlyle; next, he had been seduced into
joining the corps of the Theatre Royal at Lynneborough; then he turned
auctioneer; then travelling in the oil and color line; then a parson,
the urgent pastor of some new sect; then omnibus driver; then collector
of the water rate; and now he was clerk again, not in Mr. Carlyle's
office, but in that of Ball & Treadman, other solicitors of West Lynne.
A good-humored, good-natured, free-of-mannered, idle chap was Mr.
Ebenezer James, and that was the worst that could be urged against him,
save that he was sometimes out at pocket and out at elbows. His father
was a respectable man, and had made money in trade, but he had married a
second wife, had a second family, and his eldest son did not come in
for much of the paternal money, though he did for a large share of the
paternal anger.

"Well, Ebenezer, and how goes the world with you?" cried Mr. Dill by way
of salutation.

"Jogging on. It never gets t