She started back, snatched her hand from him, clenched her fist, and struck her breast with it. ‘How dare you! You—you—the escaped convict! Go on; I will follow. You have insulted me.’ He obeyed. But as he walked back to Morwell ahead of her, he was not cast down. Eve, in the garret, had that day opened a coffer and made a discovery. He, too, on the down, had wrenched open for one moment a fast-closed heart, had looked in, and made a discovery. When Barbara reached her home she rushed to her room, where she threw herself on her bed, and beat and beat again, with her fists, her head and breast, and said, ‘I hate—I hate and despise myself! I hate—oh, how I hate myself!’ CHAPTER XX. PERPLEXITY. BARBARA was roused early next morning by Eve; Eve had overslept herself when she ought to be up; she woke and rose early when another hour of rest would have been a boon to poor Barbara. The sisters occupied adjoining rooms that communicated, and the door was always open between them. When Eve was awake she would not suffer her sister to sleep on. She stooped over her and kissed her closed eyes till she woke. Eve had thrown open the window, and the sweet fresh air blew in. The young girl was not more than half dressed. She stood by Barbara’s bed with her lovely hair dishevelled about her head, ing a halo of red-gold glory to her face. That face was lovely with its delicate roses of health and happiness, and the blue eyes twinkling in it full of life and fun. Her neck was exposed. She folded her slender arms round Barbara’s head and shook it, and kissed again, till the tired, sleep-stupefied girl awoke. ‘I cannot sleep this lovely morning,’ said Eve; then, with true feminine _non-sequitur_; ‘So you must get up, Barbie.’ ‘Oh, Eve, is it time?’ Barbara sat up in bed instantly wide awake. Her sister seated herself on the side of the bed and laid her hand in her lap. ‘Eve!’ exclaimed Barbara suddenly, ‘what have you there—on your finger? Who gave you that?’ ‘It is a ring, Bab. Is it not beautiful, a forget-me-not of turquoise set in a circlet of gold?’ ‘Who gave it you, Eve?’ ‘A pixy gift!’ laughed the girl carelessly. ‘This will not do. You must answer me. Where did you get it?’ ‘I found it, Barbie.’ ‘Found it—where?’ ‘Where are forget-me-nots usually found?’ Then hastily, before her sister could speak, ‘But what a lovely ring you have got on your pincushion, Bab! Mine cannot compare with it. Is that the ring I heard the maids say you lost?’ ‘Yes, dear.’ ‘How did you recover it? Who found it for you?’ ‘Jasper.’ Eve turned her ring on her finger. ‘My darling,’ said Barbara, ‘you have not been candid with me about that ring. Did Dr. Coyshe give it to you?’ ‘Dr. Coyshe! Oh, Barbara, that ever you should think of me as aspiring to be Mrs. Squash!’ ‘When did you get the ring?’ ‘Yesterday.’ ‘Who gave it to you? You must tell me.’ ‘I have already told you—I found it by the wood, as truly as you found yours on the down.’