“It don't sound much like it!” returned the old man, as Barbara's musical, bird-like laugh came from the cottage. “She ain't breaking her heart!--Alice, as you call her, must be doing well, or missie wouldn't be laughing like that!” As they entered, Barbara came gliding down the perpendicular stair in front of them, her face yet radiant with the shadow of the laugh they had heard. “Good morning, Mr. Armour!” she said. “--I did not expect to see you so soon again, Mr. Tuke. Will you put me up!” Richard released Miss Brown, got her into position, and gave his hand to Barbara's foot, as he had seen Mr. Lestrange do. But lifting, he nearly threw her over Miss Brown's back. She burst into her lovely laugh, clutched at a pommel, and held fast. “I'm not quite ready to go to heaven all at once!” she said. “I thought you were!” answered Richard. “But indeed I beg your pardon! I might have known how light you must be!” “I am very heavy for my size!” “May I walk a little way alongside of you, miss?” “You have a right; I have offered you my company more than once,” answered Barbara. They walked a little way in silence. “Why is there no way to the heaven you believe in, but the terrible gate of death?” asked Richard at length. “If a God of love, as you say your God is, made the world, and could not--for want of room, I suppose--let his creatures live on in it, he would surely have thought of some better way out of it than such a ghastly one!” Perhaps the most surprising thing about Barbara was her readiness. Very seldom had one to wait for her answer. “This morning,” she said, “for the first time with me on her back at least, Miss Brown refused a jump--and I grant the place _looked_ ugly! But I gave her a little sharp persuasion, and she took it beautifully, coming away as proud of herself as possible.--If there be a God, he must know as much better than you and I, as I know better than Miss Brown. One who never did anything we couldn't understand, couldn't be God. How else could he make things?” “Yes, if they are made!” “If I were you, I would be quite sure first, before I said they were not. You won't assert anything you are not sure of; don't deny anything either. Good-bye.--Go, Miss Brown!” She was more peremptory than usual, but he liked it--rather. He felt she had some right to speak to him so: positive as he had hitherto been, he was not really sure of anything! The fact was, Barbara had been irritated that morning, and had got over the irritation, but not quite over the excitement of it. She thought Miss Brown should never again set hoof within the gates of Mortgrange. After breakfast, lady Ann had sent for her to her dressing-room, and Barbara had gone, prepared to hear of something to her disadvantage. The same woman who had been so uncivil to Richard, had watched and seen them go out together. She fastened the library window behind them, and went and told lady Ann, who requested her to mind her own business.