How different were the facts in reality. These meetings of Mr. Carlyle's and Barbara's, instead of episodes of love-making and tender speeches, were positively painful, especially to Barbara, from the unhappy nature of the subject to be discussed. Far from feeling a reprehensible pleasure at seeking the meetings with Mr. Carlyle, Barbara shrank from them; but that she was urged by dire necessity, in the interests of Richard, she would wholly have avoided such. Poor Barbara, in spite of that explosion of bottled-up excitement years back, was a lady, possessed of a lady's ideas and feelings, and--remembering the explosion--it did not accord with her pride at all to be pushing herself into what might be called secret meetings with Archibald Carlyle. But Barbara, in her sisterly love, pressed down all thought of self, and went perseveringly forward for Richard's sake.
Mr. Carlyle was seated one morning in his private room at his office, when his head clerk, Mr. Dill came in. "A gentleman is asking to see you, Mr. Archibald."
"I am too busy to see anybody for this hour to come. You know that, Dill."
"So I told him, sir, and he says he'll wait. It is that Captain Thorn who is staying here with John Herbert."
Mr. Carlyle raised his eyes, and they encountered those of the old man; a peculiar expression was in the face of both. Mr. Carlyle glanced down at the parchment he was perusing, as if calculating his time. Then he looked up again and spoke.
"I will see /him/, Dill. Send him in."
The business leading to the visit was quite simple. Captain Frederick Thorn had got himself into some trouble and vexation about "a bill"--as too many captains will do--and he had come to crave advice of Mr. Carlyle.
Mr. Carlyle felt dubious about giving it. This Captain Thorn was a pleasant, attractive sort of a man, who won much on acquaintance; one whom Mr. Carlyle would have been pleased, in a friendly point of view, and setting professional interest apart, to help out of his difficulties; but if he were the villain they suspected him to be, the man with crime upon his hand, then Mr. Carlyle would have ordered his office door held wide for him to slink out of it.
"Cannot you advise me what my course ought to be?" he inquired, detecting Mr. Carlyle's hesitation.
"I could advise you, certainly. But--you must excuse my being plain, Captain Thorn--I like to know who my clients are before I take up their cause or accept them as clients."
"I am able to pay you," was Captain Thorn's reply. "I am not short of ready money; only this bill--"
Mr. Carlyle laughed out, after having bit his lip with annoyance. "It was a natural inference of yours," he said, "but I assure you I was not thinking of your purse or my pocket. My father held it right never to undertake business for a stranger--unless a man was good, in a respectable point of view, and his cause was good, he did not mention it--and I have acted on the same principle. By these means, the position and character of our business, is rarely attained by a solicitor. Now, in saying that you are a stranger to me, I am not casting any doubt upon you, Captain Thorn, I am merely upholding my common practice."
"My family is well connected," was Captain Thorn's next venture.
"Excuse me; family has nothing to do with it. If the poorest day laborer, if a pauper out of the workhouse came to me for advice, he should be heartily welcome to it, provided he were an honest man in the face of the day. Again I repeat, you must take no offence at what I say, for I cast no reflection on you; I only urge that you and your character are unknown to me."
Curious words from a lawyer to a client-aspirant, and Captain Thorn found them so. But Mr. Carlyle's tone was so courteous, his manner so affable, in fact he was so thoroughly the gentleman, that it was impossible to feel hurt.
"Well, how can I convince you that I am respectable? I have served my country ever since I was sixteen, and my brother officers have found no cause of complaint--any position as an officer and a gentleman would be generally deemed a sufficient guarantee. Inquire of John Herbert. The Herberts, too, are friends of yours, and they have not disdained to give me room amidst their family."
"True," returned Mr. Carlyle, feeling that he could not well object further; and also that all men should be deemed innocent until proved guilty. "At any rate, I will advise you what must be done at present," he added, "though if the affair is one that must go on, I do not promise that I can continue to act for you. I am very busy just now."
Captain Thorn explained his dilemma, and Mr. Carlyle told him what to do in it. "Were you not at West Lynne some ten years ago?" he suddenly inquired, at the close of the conversation. "You denied it to me once at my house; but I concluded from an observation you let fall, that you had been here."
"Yes, I was," replied Captain Thorn, in a confidential tone. "I don't mind owning it to you in confidence, but I do not wish it to get abroad. I was not at West Lynne, but in its neighborhood. The fact is, when I was a careless young fellow, I was stopping a few miles from here, and got into a scrape, though a--a--in short it was an affair of gallantry. I did not show out very well at the time, and I don't care that it should be known in the country again."
Mr. Carlyle's pulse--for Richard Hare's sake--beat a shade quicker.
The avowal of "an affair of gallantry" was almost a confirmation of his suspicions.
"Yes," he pointedly said. "The girl was Afy Hallijohn."
"Afy--who?" repeated Captain Thorn, opening his eyes, and fixing them on Mr. Carlyle's.
"Afy Hallijohn."
Captain Thorn continued to look at Mr. Carlyle, an amused expression, rather than any other, predominant on his features. "You are mistaken," he observed. "Afy Hallijohn? I never heard the name before in my life."
"Did you ever hear or know that a dreadful tragedy was enacted in this place about that period?" replied Mr. Carlyle, in a low, meaning tone.
"That Afy Hallijohn's father was--"
