Mr. Carlyle stopped, and Barbara glanced round with a shudder, and drew
closer to him as she whispered. He had not given her his arm this time.

"Yes, to the murder. You know mamma has always declared that Bethel had
something to do with it; she says her dreams would have convinced her
of it, if nothing else did; and she dreamt she saw him with--with--you
know."

"Hallijohn?" whispered Mr. Carlyle.

"With Hallijohn," assented Barbara, with a shiver. "He was standing
over him as he lay on the floor; just as he _did_ lay on it. And that
wretched Afy was standing at the end of the kitchen, looking on."

"But Mrs. Hare ought not to suffer dreams to disturb her peace by day,"
remonstrated Mr. Carlyle. "It is not to be surprised at that she dreams
of the murder, because she is always dwelling upon it; but she should
strive and throw the feeling from her with the night."

"You know what mamma is. Of course she ought to do so, but she does not.
Papa wonders what makes her get up so ill and trembling of a morning;
and mamma has to make all sorts of evasive excuses; for not a hint, as
you are aware, must be breathed to him about the murder."

Mr. Carlyle gravely nodded.

"Mamma does so harp about Bethel. And I know that dream arose from
nothing in the world but because she saw him pass the gate yesterday.
Not that she thinks that it was he who did it; unfortunately, there is
no room for that; but she will persist that he had a hand in it in some