The side-gate at the lodge was yet open; so was the great door of the house. He entered softly, and going along a wide passage, arrived at the foot of the great staircase, which ascended with the wide sweep of half an oval, just in time to see at the top the reflection of a candle disappearing to the right. There were many chances against its being Barbara's, but with an almost despairing recklessness he darted up, and turning, saw again the reflection of the candle from the wall of a passage that crossed the corridor. He followed as swiftly and lightly as he could, and at the corner all but overturned an elderly maid, whose fright gave place to wrath when she saw who had endangered her. “I want to see Miss Wylder!” said Richard hurriedly. “You have no call to be in this part of the house,” returned the woman. “I can't stop to explain,” answered Richard. “Please tell me which is her room.” “Indeed I will not.” “When she knows my business, she will be glad I came to her.” “You may find it for yourself.” “Will you take a message for me then?” “I am not Miss Wylder's maid!” she replied. “Neither is it my place to wait on my fellow-servants.” She turned away, tossing her head, and rounded the corner into the corridor. Richard looked down the passage. A light was burning at the other end of it, and he saw there were not many doors in it. With a sudden resolve to go straight ahead, he called out clear and plain-- “Miss Wylder!” and again, “Miss Wylder!” A door opened and, to his delight, out peeped Barbara's dainty little head. She saw Richard, gave one glance in the opposite direction, and made him a sign to come to her. He did so. She was in her dressing-gown: it was not her candle he had followed, but its light had led him to her! “What is it!” she said hurriedly. “Don't speak loud: lady Ann might hear you!” “There's a girl all but dying--” began Richard. “Go to the library,” she said. “I will come to you there. I shan't be a minute!” She went in, and her door closed with scarce a sound. Then first a kind of scare fell upon Richard: one of those doors might open, and the pale, cold face of the formidable lady look out Gorgon-like! If it was her candle he had followed, she could hardly have put it down when he called Miss Wylder! He ran gliding through passage and corridor, and down the stair, noiseless and swift as a bat. Arrived in the library, he lighted a candle, and, lest any one should enter, pretended to be looking out books. Within five minutes Barbara was at his side. “Now!” she said, and stood silent, waiting.