She had given Mr.Carlyle the history, but its recollection now called up a smart pain, and a change passed over her face.
"Oh! Don't, Archibald," she uttered, in the impulse of the moment; "don't recall it." Isabel wondered.
"Can Peter take me ?" continued Barbara.
"I had better take you," said Mr.Carlyle.

"It is late." Barbara's heart beat at the words; beat as she put her things on--as she said good-night to Lady Isabel and Miss Carlyle; it beat to throbbing as she went out with him, and took his arm.

All just as it used to be--only now that he was the husband of another.

Only! It was a warm, lovely June night, not moonlight, but bright with its summer twilight.

They went down the park into the road, which they crossed, and soon came to a stile.