Mr.
Carlyle half-carried, half-dragged her to the second stile, and placed her against it, his arm supporting her; and an old cow and two calves, wondering what the disturbance could mean at that sober time of night, walked up and stared at them.
Barbara struggled with her emotion--struggled manfully--and the sobs and shrieks subsided; not the excitement or the passion.

She put away his arm, and stood with her back to the stile, leaning against it.

Mr.
Carlyle felt inclined to fly to the pond for water, but he had nothing but his hat to get it in.
"Are you better, Barbara?
What can have caused it ?" "What can have caused it ?" she burst forth, giving full swing to the reins, and forgetting everything.

"_You_ can ask me that ?" Mr.Carlyle was struck dumb; but by some inexplicable laws of sympathy, a dim and very unpleasant consciousness of the truth began to steal over him.
"I don't understand you, Barbara.

If I have offended you in any way, I am truly sorry." "Truly sorry, no doubt!" was the retort, the sobs and the shrieks alarmingly near.