There was a solemn look on her face, and none of the smile with which she usually greeted him. Their last interview had made her miserable for a while, and more solemn for ever. For hours the world was black about her, and she felt as if Richard had struck her. To say there was no God behind the loveliness of things, was to say there was no loveliness--nothing but a pretence of loveliness! The world was a painted thing! a toy for a doll! a phantasm! He told her where and in what state he had found the girl, and to what a poor place he had been compelled to carry her, saying he feared she would die before he could get anything for her, except Miss Wylder would help him. “Brandy!” she said, thinking. “Lady Ann has some in her room. The rest I can manage!--Wait here; I will be with you in three minutes.” She went, and Richard waited--without anxiety, for whatever Barbara undertook seemed to those who knew her as good as done. She reappeared in her red cloak, with a basket beneath it. Richard, wondering, would have taken the basket from her. “Wait till we are out of the house,” she said. “Open that bay window, and mind you don't make a noise. They mustn't find it undone: we have to get in that way again.” Richard obeyed scrupulously. It was a French window, and issue was easy. “What if they close the shutters?” he ventured to say. “They don't always. We must take our chance,” she replied. He thought she must mean to go as far as the lodge only. “You won't forget, miss, to fasten the window again?” he whispered, as he closed it softly behind them. “We must always risk something!” she answered. “Come along!” “Please give me the basket,” said Richard. She gave it him; and the next moment he found her leading to the way through the park toward the lodgeless gate. They had walked a good many minutes, and Barbara had not said a word. “How good of you, miss, to come!” ventured Richard. “To come!” she returned. “What else did you expect? Did you not want me to come?” “I never thought of your coming! I only thought you would get the right things for me--if you could!” “You don't think I would leave the poor girl to the mercy of a man who would tell her there was nobody anywhere to help her out of her troubles!” “I don't think I should have told her that; I might have told her there was nobody to bring worse trouble upon her!” “What comfort would that be, when the trouble was come--and as strong as she could bear!” Richard was silent a moment, then in pure self-defence answered-- “A man must neither take nor give the comfort of a lie!” “Tell me honestly then,” said Barbara, “--for I do believe you are an honest man--tell me, are you _sure_ there is no God? Have you gone all through the universe looking for him, and failed to find him? Is there no possible chance that there may be a God!” “I do not believe there is.” “But are you sure there is not? Do you know it, so that you have a right to say it?” Richard hesitated.