the garden-party at uplands had a serious effect on the household in great adullam street. of course the actual disturbance, the state of warfare engendered by what frank churchill imagined he had seen take place between his wife and captain lyster in the shrubbery, did not last long. when barbara swept up to her bedroom from the hired brougham, frank retreated into his little snuggery and lit his old meerschaum-pipe, and sat gazing vacantly through the smoke-wreaths, and pondering on the occurrences of the day. he could scarcely realise to himself what had passed; he could scarcely imagine that the woman to whom, twelve months since, he had sworn fealty, whose lightest whisper caused his pulse to throb, and who, on her part, had changed the whole style and current of her life for the sake of fulfilling her determination to be his and his alone, could have so far repented of that great crisis in her career as to listen to the compliments of another man, to receive, with evident satisfaction, his unqualified admiration, and to fly off in a rage, with fire in her eyes and bitter words on her lips, when her husband remonstrated with her on her conduct. here were they, that "twain one flesh," that mysterious two-in-oner sitting under the same roof indeed, but in separate rooms; each thinking hard thoughts of the other, each with anger rife against the other, and with harsh words applied to each other yet ringing in their ears. great heavens! thought frank, was this what he had fondly pictured to himself? was this the quiet haven of repose, the lodge in the vast wilderness of mesopotamia, with one fair spirit for his minister, on which he had so rashly reckoned? was the lodge to be a divided territory? and was the fair spirit to be equally fair to some other man, and to be a minister of the blatant, reviling, boanerges class? instead of the quiet and rest on which he had calculated, and which were so necessary to him after his exciting hard work, was his mind to be racked by petty jealousies, his peace invaded by wretched squabbles, the sunshine of his existence overclouded with gloom and doubt? was his wife to be an adversary instead of a helpmate? were her-- and then abruptly he stopped in his self-torturing, as he thought of her,--how friendless and unprotected she was, how he alone was her prop and stay in the world; and then he turned the whole matter in his mind, and it occurred to him that that horribly irritable temper of his might have led him again into mischief, causing him to see things that really might not have happened, and to use language far stronger than there was any necessity for, and to render him violent and undignified and absurd, and so completely to do away with the force accruing from his right position. for undoubtedly he was in the right position; for had he not seen with his own eyes--what? they were walking together, certainly; but there was no reason why that should not be: fifty other couples were promenading the same grounds at the same time, and--no! on reflection, he did not see lyster kiss her hand; it was that young idiot who was gabbling to him the whole time, and who said something about it. perhaps nothing of the kind had occurred. barbara had denied it instantly; and when had she ever breathed a falsehood to him? she was not the style of woman to equivocate; her pride would save her from that; and--it must have been all fancy! some horrible mistake, out of which had arisen this wretched scene and his worse than wretched rage. and now there was something between them, some horrible misunderstanding which must be at once set right. if--if any thing were to happen to either of them, and one were to die while there was enmity, or something like it, existing between them! and this thought caused the meerschaum to be laid aside unfinished, and sent frank striding up, four stairs at a time, to his bedroom.

he found barbara sitting in her white dressing-gown, arranging her hair before the looking-glass. her face was very white, her eyelids a little red and puffed, and her lips were tightly pressed together. she took no notice of the opening of the door, but went calmly on with her toilet. frank was a little disconcerted by this; he had calculated on a tender look of recognition, a few smothered words of explanation, and a final tableau in each other's arms. but as barbara, with the greatest serenity, still appeared completely immersed in the intricate plaiting evolutions she was performing with a piece of her hair and a stalwart hair-pin, frank advanced gently, and standing behind her chair, touched her shoulder, and said softly, "darling!"

there was no reply; but the hands occupied in the plaiting manoeuvre perhaps shook a little.

"my darling," repeated frank, "won't you notice me?"

"were you speaking to me?" asked barbara in an icy voice, and looking up at him with a calm rigid blank face.

"to whom else should i be speaking? to whom else should i apply that term?"

"really i can't say. the last time you spoke to me, you were good enough to swear; and as i know you pride yourself on your consistency, i could not imagine you could so soon alter your tone."

"no; but, barbara dearest, you should not throw that in my teeth; you know that i was vexed; that i--"

"vexed, frank! vexed! i wonder at you! you accuse me of something utterly untrue, in language such as i have never listened to before; and then, as an excuse, you plead that you were vexed!"

"i was foolish, barbara, headstrong and horrible, and let my confounded temper get the mastery over me; but then, child, you ought to forgive me; for all i did was from excess of love for you. if i did not hang upon every word, every action, of yours, i should be far less exacting in my affection. you should think of that, barbara."

his voice was broken as he spoke, and she noticed that the hand which was upon her chair-back shook palpably.

"you could not have meant what you said in the brougham, frank," said she in a softened tone. "you could not have imagined that i should have permitted--there, i cannot speak of it!" she exclaimed abruptly, placing her handkerchief to her swimming eyes.

"no, my darling, i will not. i could not--i never--of course--fool that i am!" and then incoherently, but satisfactorily, the question was dismissed.

dismissed temporarily, but by no means forgotten, by no means laid aside by either of them. captain lyster called the next day while frank was at the office, eager to see whether mrs. churchill had repented of the task she had undertaken in counselling and warning alice schr?der; and barbara told her husband on his return of the visit she had had, and mentioned it with eyes which a desire not to look conscious rendered somewhat defiant, and with cheeks which flushed simply because it was the last thing they ought to have done. heaven knows barbara churchill had nothing to be ashamed of in being visited by captain lyster. she never had the smallest sign of a feeling stronger than friendship for him, and yet she felt somewhat guilty, as she acknowledged to herself that his visit had given her very great pleasure. the truth was that the garden-party at uplands had completely upset the current of barbara's life. when, in the first wild passion of her love for him who became her husband, she had willingly forfeited all that had hitherto been the pleasure of her life,--the luxury and admiration in which she had been reared, the pleasant surroundings which had been hers since her cradle,--she had found something in exchange. she had given up half-a-hundred friendships, which she knew to be hollow and empty; but she had consoled herself with one vast love, which she believed to be lasting and true, and which, after all, was a novelty.

as has been said, barbara had had her flirtations innumerable, but she had never known before what love was; and having a very sensitive organisation, and going in heart and soul for the new passion, she had not in any great degree, at all events felt the alteration in her position. although every thing was different and inferior, every thing was in some degree connected with him, who was paramount in her idea to any thing she had ever known. she might feel the dulness of the neighbourhood, the smallness of the house, the difference in the society and in her own occupations and amusements; but all these were part and parcel of that sun of her existence--her husband; that great luminary, in whose brilliant rays all little gloom-spots were swallowed up and merged. even when the glamour died away, and the blacknesses stood out in bold relief, she had been so dazed by the brightness, and, owing to the thorough change, the events of her past life seemed so far away, as to awaken but very little remorse or regret. she was beginning to bear with something like patience the prosiness of her mother-in-law, the spiteful criticisms of mrs. harding, the hideous vulgarity of some of her other neighbours. but the visit to uplands came upon her as a terrific shock. once more mixing in her old society, hearing the fashionable jargon to which she had been accustomed from her youth up; meeting those who had always looked up to her as their superior in beauty, and consequently in marketable value; listening to soft compliments; seeing her wishes, ever so slightly hinted, obeyed with alacrity; breathing once more that atmosphere in which she was reared, but from which she seemed to have been long estranged,--barbara felt more and more like barbara lexden, while barbara churchill faded hazily away. the dull, dull street,--the dead, dead life,--the poverty which prescribed constant care in the household management,--the dowdy dresses and second-hand manners of the inhabitants of the quarter,--the daily vexations and cares and wrong-way rubbings, seemed all to belong to some hideous dream, while the real existence passed into the former life with a pleasant addition in the person of frank. the pleasure was brief enough, and she woke to all the horrors rendered doubly bitter by the short renewal of bygone joys. the clock had struck twelve, the ballroom had vanished, and she was again cinderella with haunting memory for her glass-slipper. the prince remained, certainly; but he was no longer a prince; he had bad tempers, and was peevish and jealous, and thoroughly mortal. she had returned to the dust and dreariness of great adullam street, and the rattling cabs, and mrs. churchill in her old black-silk dress, and the hebrews opposite smoking their cigars at the open windows in the hot summer evenings. she could scarcely fancy that there was a world where people dressed in full muslin, and pink-crape bonnets, or bewitching hats; where business was unknown, and work never heard of; where there were perpetual croquet-parties and picnics and horticultural fêtes; where there were night-drives homeward in open carriages after richmond dinners; and where the men talked of something else than when brown was going to bring out his poems, or what a slating smith's novel had had in the scourge. in that brief respite from her weary life, she had heard those around her talking of their plans to be carried out on the then occurring break-up of the season; she had heard girls talk with rapture of their approaching visits to german spas and italian lakes; she had heard arrangements made for meeting in english country-houses, where she had formerly been an eagerly sought-for guest; or at fashionable seaboards, where she had been the reigning belle. and she came back with the full knowledge that a fortnight's run to some cockney watering-place, handy of access to london, where she could live in cheap lodgings and play, a very undistinguished part, would be all the relaxation she could possibly hope for. and all this sunk into her soul, and made her wretched and discontented, and formed the wandering isles of night which dashed the very source and fount of her day.

it was wrong, undoubtedly. she had chosen her course, and must run it; as the mesopotamians would have expressed themselves, she had made her bed, and must lie upon it. she had her husband to think of, and should have struggled womanfully to bear up against all these small crosses and disquietudes for his sake; she should have met her fate with a brave heart, and striven to prevent his having any suspicion of the longings and disappointments by which she was racked. barbara should have done all this, as we in our different way should have done so much, which we have resolutely omitted,--paid that bill, for instance; avoided that woman; not bought that horse; helped that old friend; denied ourselves that fling in print at jones. she should have done; but, like us, she didn't. her character was any thing but perfect; and the very pride on which she so much prided herself, and which should have left her straight, now turned against herself, and, "like a hedgehog rolled the wrong way," pricked her mercilessly. she did indeed struggle to contend with the feelings which were conquering her, and which were the "little low" sensations renewed with tenfold force; but without success. a dead dull despair, a loathing and detestation of all the circumstances of her life, a horror of the people round her, and a wild regret for what had gone before never to return,--these were the demons which beset barbara's daily path. and with them at one time came the first threatenings of another feeling which would have been more destructive to all chance of present or future happiness than any other, had not providence in its mercy counteracted its effect by a passion, bad indeed, torturing, and hurtful, but nothing like so deadly as the other. weighed down by her real or fancied misery, constantly repining in secret, and comparing her present with her past life, barbara might have been tempted to think of frank as the agent of her wretchedness, as the primary mover in the chain of events which had made her exchange tyburnia for great adullam street, luxury for comparative poverty, and happiness for despair; she might have done this, but she became jealous. she noticed that lately frank's manner had been strange and preoccupied; that he was away from home very much more frequently than when they were first married; that from what she gathered when she heard him talking with his friends, he evidently sought work which took him out, and on two or three occasions had gone on country trips in the interest of the journal--duty which did not fall to his lot, and which he had never undertaken before. his manner to her, she thought, was certainly very much changed, and she did not like the alteration. he was courteous always, and gentle; but he had gradually lost all that petting fondness which, from its very rarity in a man of his stamp, was so winning at first; and with his courtesy was mingled a grave sad air, which barbara understood to mean reproach, and which galled her mightily. i do not know that barbara at first really felt jealous of her husband: had she examined the foundation of her jealousy and sifted its causes, there is very little doubt that the natural sense which she undoubtedly possessed would have shown her that her suspicions were absurd. but the truth is, she all unwittingly rather encouraged the passion, as a relief from the monotonous misery of her life, without a thought of how rapidly it grew, or what proportions it might eventually assume. it was a change to think differently of frank, to take a feverish interest in his proceedings and in the proceedings of those with whom he was brought into contact; and frank himself was surprised to find how the "little low" fits had been succeeded by a more sprightly demeanour--a demeanour which showed itself in sharp glances and bitter words.

and frank, was he happy? in truth, not one whit happier than his wife, though his wretchedness sprang from a different cause and was shown in a different way. he felt that he had clutched the great prize, and found it to be a dead-sea apple; that he had reached the turning-point of his career, passed it, and found the rest of his course all down-hill; he had played the great stake of his life and lost it; and henceforward his heart's purse was empty, and he was bankrupt in affections. it had come upon him, gradually indeed, but with overwhelming force: at first he had ascribed barbara's pettishness to the mere vagaries of a girl, and had looked upon her caprices as relics of that empire which had been hers so long, and from which she, naturally enough, was unwilling to part. he had seen, not without annoyance, indeed, but still without any deep or lasting pang, that there was an uncomfortable feeling, based either upon rivalry or some other passion equally unintelligible to him, between his wife and his mother; but he had hoped this would pass away. he had noticed that his old friends, though they spoke with warm admiration of barbara's beauty, deemed to shirk any question of liking or being pleased with her; and that, let them meet her however often, she scarcely seemed to make any progress in their regard; but he thought this was as much their fault as hers, and that the estrangement would wear off. it was not until his mother had dropped her hint as to the frequency of captain lyster's visits, that frank's mind began to be seriously disturbed; it was not until the scene at uplands, of which he had been an unwilling spectator, and the subsequent scene with barbara in the brougham, that he began to feel that his marriage had been a horrible mistake. then all barbara's "low" fits, all her silence, all the tears which he could see constantly welling up into her eyes, and kept back only by a struggle as palpable as the tears themselves; then the complaints of dulness and monotony--all poor barbara's shortcomings, indeed, and they were not a few--were ascribed to one source. she had known this man in former days; he was of her society and set, and had probably made love to her, as had hundreds before; and frank ground his teeth as he thought how barbara's reputation as a flirt, and her attractive qualities as a coquette, had been kindly mentioned to him by more than one of her old friends. some quarrel had probably occurred between them; during which he frank had crossed her path, had fallen at her feet,--dazed idiot that he was!--and she had raised him up, and out of pique had married him. that was the story, frank could swear to it! he turned it over and over in his mind until he believed it implicitly, and conjured up the different scenes and passages, which made his blood boil and sent him, with set teeth and scowling brow, stamping through the long-echoing mesopotamian squares, to the intense wonder of the policeman and the few passers-by in those dreary thoroughfares. only when he was quite alone, however, did he in the least give way to his emotions. when he was at home--where he and barbara would now sit for hours without exchanging a word, and where the occasional presence of a third person rendered matters more horrible, compelling them to put on a ghastly semblance of affectionate familiarity--when he was at home, or down at the statesman office, where he could be thoroughly natural, he was moody, stern, and silent. his manner had lost that round jollity which had always characterised it, and his appearance was beginning to change: he was thinner; there were silver lines in the brown hair, and two or three deep lines round the eyes.

of course his friends noticed all this, as friends notice every thing. madly and blindly people go through life, imagining that their thoughts and actions are--some of them, at least--known but to themselves alone; whereas all of them--all such, at least, as they would prefer keeping secret--are public property, and as thoroughly patent as if they had been proclaimed from the market-place cross. you may go on in london living for years next door to a neighbour whose name you are unacquainted with, and whom you have never seen; but make him an acquaintance, give him some interest in you, and without your in the least suspecting it, he will find out the whole story of your life, will know all about the young lady with the fair hair in wiltshire, the hundred pounds borrowed from robinson, the disappointment at uncle prendergast's will--all the little things, in fact, which you thought were buried in your own bosom; and will sit down opposite you at table with an innocent ingenuous face, as though your affairs were the very last things with which he would trouble himself. we all do this, day by day, with the noblest hypocrisy, and receive from our dear intimate statements of facts which we know to be false, and warpings of statements which we know to be perverted, with "indeeds!" and "reallys?" and head-noddings of outward acquiescence and mocking incredulity in our hearts. barbara churchill had been the one grand subject of conversation for the mesopotamian gossips ever since her marriage: they had lived upon her, and found that she improved in flavour. her appearance, her dress, her manners; what they were pleased to term her "stand-offishness;" her shortcomings as a housekeeper; her ignorance in the matter of mending under-linen; her novel-reading and piano-playing--all these had been toothsome morsels, far more enjoyable than the heavy pies, the thick chops, and the sardines which figured in that horrible mesopotamian meal known as "a thick tea;" and had been picked to the very bone. and then, when it began to be whispered about--as it very soon did--that there were dissensions in the churchill camp, that all did not go as smoothly as it should, and that, in fact, quarrels were rife--then came the crowning delight of the banquet, and the female portion of the great-adullam-street community was nearly delirious with excitement. although old mrs. churchill, from her kind-heartedness and simplicity, had always been a great favourite with her neighbours, she had no idea of the extent of her popularity until this period. her little rooms were literally beset with female friends; and she had invitations to tea-parties three-deep. to these invitations--to as many of them, at least, as was possible--she invariably responded. by nature the old lady hated the character of a gossip, and would have been highly indignant had she been charged with any propensity for chattering; but easily impressible by those with whom she was brought into contact, she had acquired a little of the prevalent failing of the region, and moreover, she thought it her duty to tell all she knew about the then favourite subject, in order, as she phrased it, "that poor frank's position might be set right." but if poor frank's position was properly looked after, it must be acknowledged that poor barbara received her meed of popular disapprobation. not that her mother-in-law ever said one direct word of condemnation; old mrs. churchill was far too good a christian willingly to start or give currency to harsh criticism, more especially on one so closely allied to her. but, it was very difficult to absolve her son from blame without shifting the onus of the avowed quarrel on to the shoulders of her daughter-in-law; and when the ladies surrounding the tea-table, groaning over "poor mr. churchill's" domestic woes, shook their cap-strings in virtuous indignation at her who had caused them, the old lady made but a feeble protest, which speedily closed in a string of doleful ejaculations. in the minds of the members of this mesopotamian vehmgericht, of which mrs. harding might be considered president, barbara stood fully convicted of the charge which they had themselves brought against her. her indolence, her carelessness, her "fal-lal ways," her pride and squeamishness had brought--only rather sooner than was expected--their natural result; and "isn't it better, my dear, to have a little less good looks and a little less fondness for jingling the piano and reading trashy novels, and keep a tidy house over your head and live happily with your husband?"

the stories of all that passed in churchill's house, collected with care from old mrs. churchill and her servant lucy,--whose habitual puritanical taciturnity was melted by the course of events, and who gave way to that hatred against barbara which she had felt from the first moment of seeing her,--and duly dressed, illustrated, and annotated by mrs. harding, who had a special talent in that way, of course before long reached mr. harding's ears.

it is difficult to explain how that good fellow was affected by the news. he had the warmest personal regard for frank, loving him with something of paternal fondness; he had always impressed him with the propriety of marriage, and had looked forward with real anxiety to the time when he should see his friend settled for life. not until then, he thought, would those talents which he knew frank possessed enable him to take his proper position in the world: what he did now was well enough; but it was merely the evanescent sparkle of his genius. soberly settled down with a woman worthy of him, the real products of his intellect and his reading would come forth, and he would step into the first rank of the men of his time. and now it had all come to this! frank was married; but he had made a wrong selection, and was a moody, discontented, blighted man. the aspect of affairs was horrible; and when told of their real condition by his wife, george harding determined that he would exercise his prerogative of friend, and speak to churchill on the subject.

accordingly the next day when he saw frank at the usual consultation at the office, harding waited until the other man had left the room, and then, placing his hand affectionately on his friend's shoulder, said: "i want two minutes with you, frank."

"two hours, if you like, harding; it's all the same to me," replied churchill wearily.

"i want you to tell me what ails you,--what has worked such a complete change in you, physically and morally; or rather, i don't want you to tell me, for i know."

churchill looked up defiantly with flushed cheeks, as he exclaimed, "what do you know? are my private affairs topics for the tittle-tattle of--there, god help me! i'm weak as water. now i want to quarrel with my best friend!"

"no, you don't, old man; and you would get no quarrel out of me, if you wished it ever so much. but i can't bear this any longer; i can't bear to see you losing your health and your spirits; and wearing yourself out day by day as you are, without coming to the rescue. let us look the matter boldly in the face at once. you're--you're not quite happy at home, frank, eh?"

"happy!" he echoed, with a strange hollow laugh; "no, not entirely perhaps."

"well, that's a bad thing; but it's curable. at all events, giving way to moping and misery won't help it. many men have begun their married life in wretchedness, and emerged, when they least expected it, into sunshine. here are two young people who have not known each other above a couple of months, both of whom have very possibly been spoiled beforehand, and they arrive each with their own particular stock of whims and fancies, which they declare shall be carried out by the other. it takes time to rub down all the angles and points, and to provide for the regular working of the machinery; and it is never done by a jump. you've fine material to work upon too; if mrs. churchill were vulgar or uneducated, or did not care for you, you would have great difficulties to contend with. but as she is exactly the reverse of all this, she ought to be easily managed. don't you understand that in these matters one or the other must have the upperhand? and that one should be the husband! the supremacy once asserted, all works well; not until then, and generally the struggle, though sharp, is very short. every thing is wrong, and the whole machine is out of gear. you've let her have her own way too much, my friend. you must tighten the curb and see the result."

"if you were a horseman, harding," said frank with a dreary smile, "you would know that tightening the curb sometimes produces the worst of rebellious vices--rearing!"

"oh, no fear of that; no fear of that. try it! you really must do something, frank; i can't bear to see you giving way like this. you must assert yourself, my good fellow, and at once; for though it may be bad now, it will be ten times worse hereafter, and you'll bitterly rue not having taken my advice."

and george harding went home and told, his wife what he had done, and assured her that she would find matters speedily set to rights in great adullam street now.

and frank churchill walked home, pondering on the advice he had just received and finally determining within himself to adopt it. he supposed he had been weak and wanting in proper self-respect. harding was always the reflex of his wife's sentiments, and doubtless that whole set of wretched tabbies had been pitying him as a poor spiritless creature. he would take harding's advice and bring the matter to an issue at once.

he went into his little study and had just seated himself at his desk to commence his work when barbara entered the room. she was dressed in her bonnet and shawl; her eyes were swollen and there were traces of recent tears still on her cheeks; the muscles round her mouth were working visibly, and her whole frame was quivering with excitement. as she closed the door behind her, she seemed to control herself with one great effort, then walking straight to the desk she said, in a broken and trembling voice, "i want you to answer me a question."

"barbara!" said frank, whose intended firmness had all melted away before her haggard appearance, "barbara!" and he rose and put out his hand to draw her to him.

"don't touch me!" she screamed, starting back. "don't lay one finger upon me until until you have answered my question. this morning you left this envelope on the dressing-table; tell me who is the writer and what were the contents."

she tossed an envelope on to the desk as she spoke, and leant with one hand against the wall.

"that envelope," said frank, speaking very slowly, "is mine. i utterly deny your right to ask me any thing about it; i utterly refuse to satisfy your curiosity."

"curiosity! it is not that; god knows it is not that feeling merely that prompts me: this is the second time you have, to my knowledge, received letters in that writing. the first time was at bissett, when you left suddenly, immediately after its receipt. i suspected then, but had no right to ask; now i have the right, and i demand to know!"

"i can only repeat what i said before: i most positively decline to tell you."

"beware, frank! you ought to know me by this time; but you don't. if you don't satisfy me on this point, i leave you for ever."

"you have your answer," said frank; "now let me get to my work."

"you still refuse?"

"you heard what i said."

she drew herself up and left the room; the next minute he heard the street-door shut, and, running to the dining-room window, saw her hail a cab and get into it.

"there's the first lesson, at all events," said he to himself. "when she comes back to dinner, she will be cooler, and more amenable to reason."

he finished his work, and walked down with it to the statesman office. on his return he found a commissionaire in the hall talking to his servant. he asked the latter where her mistress was, but the girl said she had not come in, at the same time handing him a letter. it was very brief; it merely said:

"you have decided; and henceforth you and i never meet again. mrs. schr?der, with whom i am staying, will send her maid for a box which i have left ready packed. i hope you may be more happy with your correspondent, and in your return to your old life, than you have been with b. c."

as frank churchill read this, the lines wavered before his eyes, and he reeled against the wall.