He quitted the office to walk home, revolving the proposition as he did so. That he had long thought of some time entering parliament was certain, though no definite period of the "when" had fixed itself in his mind. He saw not why he should confine his days entirely to toil, to the work of his calling. Pecuniary considerations did not require it, for his realized property, combined with the fortune brought by Barbara, was quite sufficient to meet expenses, according to their present style of living. Not that he had the least intention of giving up his business; it was honorable, as he conducted it, and lucrative, and he really liked it. He would not have been condemned to lead an idle life for the world; but there was no necessity for his being always at it. Mr. Dill made as good a principal as he did, and--if length of service and experience might be counted--a better one. He could safely be left to manage during the time it would be necessary for him, Mr. Carlyle, to be in London. He would rather represent West Lynne than any other spot on the face of the earth, no matter what might be the other's importance; and, as West Lynne was now in want of a member, perhaps his opportunity had come. That he would make a good and efficient public servant, he believed; his talents were superior, his oratory persuasive, and he had the gift of a true and honest spirit. That he would have the interest of West Lynne, at heart was certain, and he knew that he should serve his constituents to the very best of his power and ability. They knew it also.
Before Mr. Carlyle had reached East Lynne, he had decided that it should be.
It was a fine spring evening. The lilac was in bloom, the hedges and trees were clothed in their early green, and all things seemed full of promise. Even Mr. Carlyle's heart was rejoicing in the prospect opened to it; he was sure he should like a public life; but in the sanguine moments of realization or of hope, some dark shade will step in to mar the brightness.
Barbara stood at the drawing-room window watching for him. Not in her was the dark shade; her dress was a marvel of vanity and prettiness, and she had chosen to place on her fair hair a dainty headdress of lace--as if her hair required any such ornament! She waltzed up to Mr. Carlyle when he entered, and saucily held up her face, the light of love dancing in her bright blue eyes.
"What do you want?" he provokingly asked, putting his hands behind him, and letting her stand there.
"Oh, well--if you won't say good-evening to me, I have a great mind to say you should not kiss me for a week, Archibald."
He laughed. "Who would be punished by that?" whispered he.
Barbara pouted her pretty lips, and the tears positively came into her eyes. "Which is as much as to say it would be no punishment to you.
Archibald, /don't/ you care for me?"
He threw his arms around her and clasped her to his heart, taking plenty of kisses then. "You know whether I care not," he fondly whispered.
But now, will you believe that that unfortunate Lady Isabel had been a witness to this? Well, it was only what his greeting to her had once been. Her pale face flushed scarlet, and she glided out of the room again as softly as she had entered it. They had not seen her. Mr. Carlyle drew his wife to the window, and stood there, his arms round her waist.
"Barbara, what should you say to living in London for a few months out of the twelve?"
"London? I am very happy where I am. Why should you ask me that? You are not going to live in London?"
"I am not sure of that. I think I am for a portion of the year. I have had an offer made me this afternoon, Barbara."
She looked at him, wondering what he meant--wondering whether he was serious. An offer? What sort of an offer? Of what nature could it be?
He smiled at her perplexity. "Should you like to see M. P. attached to my name? West Lynne wants me to become its member."
A pause to take in the news; a sudden rush of color, and then she gleefully clasped her hands round his arm, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.
"Oh, Archibald, how glad I am! I knew how you were appreciated, and you will be appreciated more and more. This is right; it was not well for you to remain what you are for life--a private individual, a country lawyer."
"I am perfectly contented with my lot, Barbara," he seriously said. "I am too busy to be otherwise."
"I know that; were you but a laboring man, toiling daily for the bread you eat, you would be contented, feeling that you were fulfilling your appointed duty to the utmost," she impulsively said; "but, Archibald, can you not still be a busy man at West Lynne, although you do become its representative?"
"If I could not, I should never accept the honor, Barbara. For some few months of the year I must of necessity be in town; but Dill is an efficient substitute, and I can run down for a week or so between times. Part of Saturday, Sunday, and part of Monday, I can always pass here, if I please. Of course these changes have their drawbacks, as well as their advantages."
"Where would be the drawbacks in this?" she interrupted.
"Well," smiled Mr. Carlyle, "in the first place, I suppose you could not always be with me."
Her hands fell--her color faded. "Oh, Archibald!"
"If I do become their member, I must go up to town as soon as elected, and I don't think it will do for my little wife to be quitting her home to travel about just now."
Barbara's face wore a very blank look. She could not dissent from Mr. Carlyle's reasoning.
"And you must remain in London to the end of the session, while I am here! Separated! Archibald," she passionately added, while the tears gushed into her eyes. "I could not /live/ without you."
"Then what is to be done? Must I decline it?"
"Decline it! Oh, of course not! I know we are looking on the dark side of things. I can go very well with you for a month--perhaps two."
"You think so?"
"I am sure so. And, mind you must not encourage mamma to talk me out of it. Archibald," she continued, resting her head upon his breast, her sweet face turned up beseechingly to his, "you would rather have me with you, would you not?"
