CHAPTER XI.
From Second Westings that morning, after old Debby's alarm, Doctor Johnand Doctor Jim had came posthaste on horseback to Westings Landing.Now, however, it was found that Barbara was quite too worn out by thefatigues of her long, strenuous day to sit a horse for a ten mile'sride over rough roads in the dark. Priding herself not less on herendurance than on her horsemanship, she vehemently repudiated thecharge that she was done up, and was determined to ride back on theliveliest of the Blue Boar's horses. But Doctor John and Doctor Jim,scanning critically her white face and the dark rims coming about hereyes, for once agreed in a professional judgment. They ordered thehorses hitched to the roomy old chaise, which was one of the landlord'smost cherished possessions; and Barbara had to accept, rebelliouslyenough, the supineness of a cushioned seat for the free lift and swingof the saddle. Before the lighted doorway of the inn was out of sight,however, she was glad of the decision. Her overwrought nerves began torelax under the soothing of the wood scents and the tender summer dark.In a little while she was asleep in the strong curve of Doctor Jim'sright arm,--so deep asleep that all the ruts and jolts and corduroybridges of an old Connecticut back-country road were powerless todisturb her peace. When they woke her up, at her aunt's door, she wasso drenched with sleep that she forgot to dread the reckoning. Withdrowsy, dark eyes, and red mouth softly trustful as a baby's, shebewildered Mistress Ladd by a warm kiss and "I'm sorry, Aunt Hitty!"and went stumbling off to bed with her basket of sleeping kittens,oblivious and irresponsible as they.
Mistress Mehitable looked after her with small, stern mouth, buttroubled eyes. Then she turned half helplessly to her friends, as ifto say, "What can I--what ought I to do?"
Doctor John threw up both big, white hands in mock despair, and hissympathetic laugh said, "What do you expect?" But Doctor Jim, moredirect and positive, said, "Best leave her alone till to-morrow,Mehitable; and then talk to her with no talk of punishing. She's notthe breed that punishing's good for."
Mistress Mehitable looked sorrowful, but resolute.
"I fear that would not be right, Jim!" she said. But there was a noteof deep anxiety in her voice. "People who do wrong ought to bepunished. Barbara has done very, very wrong!"
Doctor Jim was as near feeling impatient as he could dare to imaginehimself with Mistress Mehitable.
"Nonsense--I mean, dear lady, punishment's not in itself one of ournumerous unpleasant duties. It's a means to an end, that's all. Inthis case, it just defeats your end. It's the wrong means altogether.Therefore--pardon me for saying it to you, Mehitable--it's wrong. It'shard enough to manage Barbara, I know, but to punish her, or talk toher of punishing, makes it harder still, eh, what?"
"Don't let your conscience trouble you, Mehitable," said Doctor John."I'm thinking the little maid will manage to get for herself, fullmeasure and running over, all the punishment that's coming to her.She's not the kind that punishment overlooks."
Was there a suspicion of criticism in all this? Could it be that JohnPigeon and Jim Pigeon, her lifelong cavaliers, in whose sight all shedid was wont to seem perfection, whose unswerving homage had been herstay through many an hour of faintness and misgiving, were now, atlast, beginning to admit doubts? Two large tears gathered slowly inthe corners of Mistress Mehitable's blue eyes, the resolution fled fromher mouth, and her fine lips quivered girlishly. She twisted hershapely little hands in her apron, then regained her self-control withan effort.
"Dear friends," said she, "I fear I have made a sad failure of the dutywhich I so confidently undertook. I thought I could surely do so muchfor her,--could so thoroughly understand Winthrop's child. But thatforeign woman--that strange blood! There is the trouble. That is whatbaffles all my efforts. Oh, perhaps it is partly my fault, too.Perhaps the child was right in the very singular letter she left forme, saying--just as if she were a grown woman and had the same rightsas I had--that the trouble was that we could not understand each other!Oh, I fear I am not the right woman to have the care of Barbara!"
"You are the rightest woman in the world, Mehitable!" thundered DoctorJim, in explosive protest against this self-accusation. "The rightestwoman in the world to have the care of any man, woman, or child thatever lived."
"Jim Pigeon's right, Mehitable, as he usually is, outside of medicineand politics," declared Doctor John. "The little maid will be readyenough some day, I'll warrant, to acknowledge how lucky she was inhaving her Aunt Hitty to care for her. But here in Second Westings weare not just at the centre of things exactly, and it may be we get intoruts, thinking our ways are the only ways. Shall we try new ways withthis very difficult little maid, Hitty?"
Mistress Mehitable brushed off the tears which had overflowed, and heldout a hand to each of the big brothers.
"You are the best friends a woman ever had," she averred withconviction; "and if you both disagree with me, I must be wrong. Itshall be your way to the best of my power. After you've had the horsesput up, come back here and I'll have a hot bite ready for you.But--oh, I do wish Winthrop had married among his own people!"
"It is late, dear lady, and you are tired after your anxieties," saidDoctor Jim. "But, nevertheless, since you are so gracious, we willsoon return,--eh, what, John?--for a bowl of that hot sangaree whichMehitable's fair hands know how to brew so delicately."
"Don't misunderstand Jim, Mehitable," said Doctor John, as the twowithdrew. "The comfort of your punch is nothing to us as the comfortof your presence. Had you ever consented to make one man happy, howmiserable would you have made others, Mehitable!"
There was deep meaning and an old reproach under Doctor John's tenderraillery; and Mistress Ladd's cheeks flushed as she stood a few momentsmotionless, alone in her low-ceiled, wide parlour. She was convictedof failure at every point. Well she knew how happy she might have madeeither one of the big-limbed, big-hearted brothers, had she not shrunkfrom making the other miserable. And she had never been able to decidewhich was the dearer to her heart; for, though she was apt to turnfirst to Jim in any need, or any joy, the thought of pain for John wasever hard for her to endure. Her heart was very full as she set aboutpreparing the brew which they both loved: and before they came shestole noiselessly up-stairs to the room over the porch, and softlykissed the dark, unrepentant waves of the sleeping Barbara's hair.