n of this _mesalliance_.
She went out very little; for on the one or two occasions on which she
had shown herself to former friends she noticed a distinct difference in
their manner, as though they should say, 'Ah, my happy swain's wife;
you're caught!'

Edmond's letters were as affectionate as ever; even more affectionate,
after a while, than hers were to him. Barbara observed this growing
coolness in herself; and like a good and honest lady was horrified and
grieved, since her only wish was to act faithfully and uprightly. It
troubled her so much that she prayed for a warmer heart, and at last
wrote to her husband to beg him, now that he was in the land of Art, to
send her his portrait, ever so small, that she might look at it all day
and every day, and never for a moment forget his features.

Willowes was nothing loth, and replied that he would do more than she
wished: he had made friends with a sculptor in Pisa, who was much
interested in him and his history; and he had commissioned this artist to
make a bust of himself in marble, which when finished he would send her.
What Barbara had wanted was something immediate; but she expressed no
objection to the delay; and in his next communication Edmund told her
that the sculptor, of his own choice, had decided to increase the bust to
a full-length statue, so anxious was he to get a specimen of his skill
introduced to the notice of the English aristocracy. It was progressing
well, and rapidly.

Meanwhile, Barbara's attention began to be occupied at home with Yewsholt
Lodge, the house that her kind-hearted father was preparing for her
residence when her husband returned. It was a small place on the plan of
a large one--a cottage built in the form of a mansion, having a central
hall with a wooden gallery running round it, and rooms no bigger than
closets to follow this introduction. It stood on a slope so solitary,
and surrounded by trees so dense, that the birds who inhabited the boughs
sang at strange hours, as if they hardly could distinguish night from
day.

During the progress of repairs at this bower Barbara frequently visited
it. Though so secluded by the dense growth, it was near the high road,
and one day while looking over the fence she saw Lord Uplandtowers riding
past. He saluted her courteously, yet with mechanical stiffness, and did
not halt. Barbara went home, and continued to pray that she might never
cease to love her husband. After that she si