iting-table. "I will write to him; I will have him
here, if it be but for an hour!" she passionately exclaimed. "This shall
be, so far, cleared up. I am as sure as sure can be that it is that man.
The very action Richard described! And there was the diamond ring! For
better, for worse, I will send for him; but it will not be for worse if
God is with us."

She dashed off a letter, getting up ere she had well begun it, to order
her carriage round again. She would trust none but herself to put it in
the post.

"MY DEAR MR. SMITH--We want you here. Something has arisen that it is
necessary to see you upon. You can get here by Saturday. Be in _these_
grounds, near the covered walk, that evening at dusk. Ever yours,

"B."

And the letter was addressed to Mr. Smith, of some street in Liverpool,
the address furnished by Richard. Very cautions to see, was Barbara. She
even put "Mr. Smith," inside the letter.

"Now stop," cried Barbara to herself, as she was folding it. "I ought to
send him a five pound note, for he may not have the means to come; and I
don't think I have one of that amount in the house."

She looked in her secretaire. Not a single five-pound note. Out of the
room she ran, meeting Joyce, who was coming along the corridor.

"Do you happen to have a five-pound note, Joyce?"

"No, ma'am, not by me."

"I dare say Madame Vine has. I paid her last week, and there were two
five-pound notes amongst it." And away went Barbara to the gray parlor.

"Could you lend me a five-pound note, Madame Vine? I have occasion to
enclose one in a letter, and find I do not possess one."

Madame Vine went to her room to get it. Barbara waited. She asked
William what Dr. Martin said.

"He tried my chest with--oh, I forget what they call it--and he said I
must be a brave boy and take my cod-liver oil well, and port wine, and
everything I liked that was good. And he said he should be at West Lynne
next Wednesday afternoon; and I am to go there, and he would call in and
see me."

"Where are you to meet him?"

"He said, either at papa's office or at Aunt Cornelia's, as we might
decide. Madame fixed it for papa's office, for she thought he might like
to see Dr. Martin. I say, mamma."

"What?" asked Barbara.

"Madame Vine has been crying ever since. Why should she?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Crying!"

"Yes but she wipes her eyes under her spectacles, and thinks I don't see
her. I know I am very ill, but why should she cry