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Clithero were there, Anne Hare, that was; a surprise for some of the gazers, who had not known they were expected at the wedding. Gentle, delicate Mrs. Hare walked up the church leaning on the arm of Sir John Dobede, a paler shade than usual on her sweet, sad face. "She's thinking of her wretched, ill-doing son," quoth the gossips, one to another.
Candidates, and proposers and seconders, and gentlemen, and officers, and mob, hustling and jostling each other. Mr. Carlyle was linked arm-in-arm with Sir John Dobede; Sir John's arm was within Lord Mount Severn's but, as to order, it was impossible to observe any. To gain the place they had to pass the house of Miss Carlyle.
West Lynne is already busy for me, I understand, pleasantly carving out my destiny. One marvels whether I shall lose myself with Miss Afy; another, that I shall set on offhand, and court Louisa Dobede. They are all wrong; my place will be with my darling mother, at least, for several years to come." She clasped his hand to her bosom in her glad delight.
Barbara inclined her head. "He is a very pleasant man, Barbara. Many a young lady in West Lynne would be proud to get him." There was a pause. Barbara broke it, but she did not look at Mr. Carlyle as she spoke. "The other rumor is it a correct one?" "What other rumor?" "That you are to marry Louisa Dobede." "It is not. I have no intention of marrying any one.
Carlyle never would have married again; he had scruples. Half a dozen were given him by report; Louisa Dobede for one, and Mary Pinner for another. Such nonsense! Folks might have made sure it would be Barbara Hare. There's a baby now." "Is there?" was the faint answer. "A beautiful boy three or four months old. Mrs. Carlyle is not a little proud of him. She worships her husband."
"I won't be sworn," said Afy. "You must be sworn," said Mr. Justice Herbert. "But I say I won't," repeated Afy. "Then we must commit you to prison for contempt of court." There was no mercy in his tone, and Afy turned white. Sir John Dobede interposed. "Young woman, had you a hand in the murder of your father?" "I?" returned Afy, struggling with passion, temper, and excitement.
Nay, I will say it more strongly; it is my intention not to marry any one to remain as I am." Barbara lifted her eyes to his in the surprise of the moment. "You look amused, Barbara. Have you been lending your credence to the gossips, who have so kindly disposed of me to Louisa Dobede?" "Not so.
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