CHAPTER XXIX.
Barbara was as good as her word. From this time forward through thatportentous fall and disastrous winter, she never let Robert forget thatthe old footing of familiar friendship was no longer his. She began tomake a difference, too,--slight but appreciable,--toward all thedeclared Tories among her followers. She was bound to show someconsistency toward Robert. And moreover, her fiery and dissatisfiedheart was growing restless for the breach that all saw coming but allstrove to postpone. Oh, she thought, let the cruel line be drawn,--letthe make-believe end,--let us know our friends and enemies apart,--letthe suspense be done, be done! And--let me get back home to SecondWestings!
Meanwhile the half-mad king went on fashioning the hooks that were torend the race in twain,--and an insensate Parliament lent power to hisfatal hands,--and men like Chatham and Burke, Shelburne and Rockingham,poured out impassioned eloquence in vain, pleading for justice to thecolonies. By mid-winter (the winter of 1775) it was plain to every onethat the king meant war, if that were the only way to bring thecolonies to their knees. Ten thousand troops were ordered to Boston,and plans were laid for organising the Indians on the frontiers. Inthe colonies, though few dared say it, all were making ready for thestruggle. On every hand there was drilling of militia and gathering ofthe munitions of war. Only in New York, as it seemed, things moved asusual, and the royal government remained in full force. As a matter offact, there were practically two governments going on side by side; forthe various "committees of safety" went about their ominouspreparations, and the governor well knew it would be unsafe tointerfere. The air became so tense with impending storm that peopleseemed to hold their breath, and when they met their eyes questioned,"Has it come?"
Then it came! And those who had longest and most preparedly waitedwere most shocked. The bolt that fell was the news of Lexington andConcord, of the king's troops,--disciplined, war-toughened, the bravestin the world,--driven in wild rout before the sharp-shooting colonialfarmers. For five days of amazement men waited, expecting the bloodyvengeance that would come. But, instead of vengeance, came the wordthat Boston was beleaguered, that Gage with his veteran regiments wasshut up tight in the city by ill-armed and unorganised countrysidemilitia. Straightway men drew breath again; and the undecided chosetheir side; and masks were thrown away. Even New York, the prudent,the divided, the long politic, proclaimed herself at last, threw offthe last empty forms of royal authority, and seized all militarysupplies within her borders.
The glittering life, which had been to Barbara so gay an intoxicationall these months, now burst like a bubble, leaving her to realise howhollow it had been. She had no regret for it, save as a help toforgetting regrets. She was dissatisfied, and wanted Second Westings.When, therefore, her uncle came to her, a few days after the news ofBunker Hill, with word that he had accepted a commission under GeneralWashington, the newly appointed commander-in-chief of the Continentalforces, she was not greatly surprised or shocked. She had known allalong that Glenowen would be at the front. She had faced all the fearof it, and taught herself to think only of the honour. Now, she turnedvery pale, tried to smile encouragement, but sobbed instead, ran to himand held him and kissed him.
"Of course, Uncle Bob! You must, I know. I will be brave about it, Ipromise I will, and not worry you with any silliness!" she murmured atlast, finding her voice. "I wish _I_ were a man, so I could go withyou!"
"And a fiery little fighter you would make, sweetheart!" said Glenowen,cheerfully. "But the immediate point is, since you can't goa-soldiering with your old uncle, what shall we do with you? I leavewithin a week for the general's headquarters at Cambridge."
"You will take me with you, and leave me at Second Westings, Uncle Bob,with Aunt Hitty and Doctor Jim to keep me cheered up while you arefighting!"
"That's the best plan, decidedly, Barbe, for more reasons than one," heanswered, suddenly grave. "But I don't think you can depend on DoctorJim for very long!"
"Why, where is he going?" queried Barbara, anxiously.
"Well, you know, he'll _choose_ to go wherever the Royalist volunteersmay be organising their forces; but if he did not choose, he'd probablyhave no choice. Our Connecticut folk left many dead on Breed's Hill,dear, and the Royalists are beginning to find their homes too hot forthem. I'm afraid Doctor Jim will be in peril of rough handling, withhis hot temper and his fearless tongue!"
"No one in Second Westings would _dare_ to be rude to Doctor Jim!"cried Barbara, indignantly.
"You don't know what they will do, sweetheart, when they are stirredout of their accustomed frame of mind. Besides, even if the SecondWestings lads should be mindful of their manners, there are the roughersort from the neighbouring villages to be thought of. _They_ owe noallegiance to a Pigeon, or a Ladd either! It may be you will findyourself a very necessary shield to Mistress Mehitable, even!"
"I should like to see them try to interfere with Aunt Hitty!" flamedBarbara, setting her white teeth and flushing. "I'd shoot them, ifthey _are_ patriots!"
Glenowen nodded approval, but counselled caution.
"You may need to be firm, girlie, but you'll need to be careful andtactful too, or you may find yourself fighting on the wrong side!" helaughed.
"Do you really mean to say that our people are beginning to attack theTories, just because they think they ought to stick to old KingGeorge?" queried Barbara, her thought turning to Robert, whom she hadnot seen or heard of for more than a week.
"That's inevitable," said Glenowen. "If we are to fight England, wefight the Tories,--and the Tories with the more bitterness because wefeel that they ought to be with us. I've heard ugly talk already oftar and feathers for some of our important men here. And they haveheard it themselves, and found that business called them urgentlyelsewhere! Other of our Tory friends are getting up volunteercompanies,--a sort of counterblast to our militia battalions. I heartalk, too, of forcibly disarming all our Tories,--especially on LongIsland, where they are as thick as hornets!"
"I suppose that's what Robert is doing--getting up a company to fightagainst us! We've not seen him for a week!" said Barbara, with abitterness which her affected indifference failed to disguise.
"Exactly that! He is one of our most dangerous antagonists here!"answered Glenowen, sadly. "He would have been seized days ago, toprevent him doing more mischief; but he's so liked, and respected forhis fairness, by all of our party, that no one cares to take thenecessary action. He's the sort of man we want on our side!"
"He's as pig-headed as King George himself!" cried Barbara, hotly.
"No, he's true to his colours!" said Glenowen. "Only he can't see thathe has nailed them to the mast of the wrong ship!"
"I have no patience with him!" muttered Barbara, bitterly, after amoment's silence.
"Did you ever have, dearie?" inquired Glenowen.
"What do you mean, Uncle Bob?"
"Forgive me, Barbe, if I speak plainly, these being times for plainspeaking!" said Glenowen. "Truly, I can't understand a man who lovesyou being other than wax in your hands, you witch,--if you took thetrouble to manage him. That may sound cynical, but I hope not. It'strue. You owe Robert to our cause! We want him!"
Barbara looked down, her face scarlet and her lips quivering. Then shefaced her uncle bravely.
"I begin to fear I want him for myself, as much as for the cause, UncleBob!" she confessed.
"It's not Cary Patten, then?" asked Glenowen.
Barbara smiled enigmatically. "Cary Patten is extremely charming!" sheanswered. "But do you know, Uncle Bob, if Robert is still in town?"
"I think," said Glenowen, "I can say with confidence that he will getaway from the city to-morrow or next day,---for friends who love him,in our party, will let him know the danger of remaining! One must makesuch compromises sometimes, if one is a red-blooded human being and nota bloodless saint!"
"Uncle Bob, I'm afraid you will never be a Lucius Junius Brutus!" saidBarbara.
"No,
thank God!" cried Glenowen, with conviction.
"I'm so glad!" said Barbara, who was very human when she was not allwoman. "Brutus was right, I think! But I've always hated him!"
Then she turned to her scrutoir and wrote a cool little note to Robert,asking him to come in and speak to her a moment the next morning.
At an hour almost unseemly Robert came, of course. And Barbara wasgracious to him. As if there had been no estrangement, she talkedfrankly of Second Westings matters,--of Doctor John's service in thesiege of Boston, of Doctor Jim's danger because of his opinions, ofMistress Mehitable's need of her presence at Westings House,--just asif they were Robert's concern as well as hers. The gladness came backto Robert's dark face, and for a moment he was forgetting the barrierbetween them.
"And what are you doing, Robert? Is it not becoming a little dangerousfor you in New York now?" she asked, with gentle frankness.
"I am going away to-morrow, dearest lady," he answered, "lest yourfiery Continentals tie me up!"
"And I go back to Second Westings next week! And you were going awaywithout seeing me for good-bye?" asked Barbara, reproachfully. "Isthis the Robert that used to say he loved me a little?"
Robert looked at her in silence. "I adore the very ground that yourfoot treads upon!" he said, presently, in a quiet voice.
"You love me just as much as you used to?" she inquired, almostwistfully.
"As much!" he exclaimed, with scorn. "More and more, every day Ibreathe. These months that you have treated me so cruelly have beenhell on earth. I don't see how I have lived through them."
"I, too, have not been very happy, Robert!" she acknowledged, softly."I believe I have needed you more than I thought. Do you know, Ialmost think I might learn to care a great deal--perhaps all that awoman can--if only, if _only_, dear Robert, there were not thisdreadful barrier between us? Oh, if you knew how I long to have you insympathy with the cause that all my heart is given to,--to talk it allover with you, to hope and plan and look forward with you, incomradeship and understanding! If you knew--but there, I see by yourobstinate mouth it is no use. I might as well pour out my heartagainst a stone wall. _Nothing_ will soften you! _Nothing_ willconvince you! Love me? _You_ love me? You have no heart at all inyour breast! Nothing but a priggish theory!"
She burst into passionate, disappointed tears, flung herself down onthe sofa, and buried her face in the cushions.
Robert was in an anguish. His mouth was drawn and white. Why should_he_ be called upon to face so hideous an alternative? Why must _he_pay so appalling a price for loyalty, for fidelity, for honour? Whatwas this bourgeois tyrant in England, that the price of loyalty to himshould be the love of the woman who was dearer than heaven? Robertfelt a fierce hatred of the man George of England, who was so unworthyof his kingship! He was mad to throw himself at Barbara's feet, andtell her all his life was hers to do as she would with, to offer hisfaith, loyalty, honour, a living sacrifice to her love, and bid hersend him to fight under whatever flag she called hers! But--he heldthe madness in leash. The tough fibre of his will gave a little, butwould not break. The drops stood out on his forehead. But all he saidwas:
"Beloved, beloved, I worship you. You are all I can dream ofwomanhood. You are all of life, all of love, all of wonder and beautythat the world can show. There is nothing my soul can ever desire butyou, you, you, wonderful one!" And he tried to take her hands fromunder her wet face.
Through her sobs, Barbara had listened eagerly for one word that mightshow a yielding. But there was no such word,--no sign that he evenrealised that she had been offering her love as the incalculable pricethat should purchase him to the service of his country. Thisinfinitely precious price,--he spurned it, then! Angry mortificationsurged over her, mixed with a pain that clutched at her heart. Thehumiliation of it--and the loss! She sat up suddenly.
"Go, go, go!" she cried, pointing to the door. "I don't want to eversee you again. I hate you. I hate you. Go--at _once_!"
And then, as Robert made no move, and strove to plead once more, shesprang to her feet, darted from the room, and fled up-stairs. He heardher door close sharply,--like the cutting off of life, it seemed tohim. And he went away, walking rather blindly, and fumbling for somemoments at the hall door before he could find the latch. That sameevening he left New York.
It was hours before Barbara was herself again, so Glenowen had to dinealone. Late in the afternoon, after having bathed her face back topresentability, she dressed to go out for a sharp walk. When hertoilet was almost complete, word came up that Cary Patten was in thedrawing-room.
Now it was at least six weeks since Cary had last attempted to makelove to her, and in the meantime he had been altogethercharming,--attentive, deferential, full of enthusiastic ambition, andvastly interesting in his large forecasts of what the thirteen colonieswould do with independence when they got it. Barbara, therefore, hadpractically forgotten that he was ever in disgrace, and was unwillingto refuse him admittance, little though it suited her mood to see him.She went down at once and received him cordially.
Cary was in a mood of triumphant excitement, dashed with romanticmelancholy. He looked even straighter, taller, more broad-shoulderedand high-mettled than usual. His goldy-brown short hair had a crispercurl, his candid blue eyes sparkled with joy and importance.
"Oh, I know! You needn't tell me!" cried Barbara, with heartysympathy. "Only one thing in the world could make your face shine asit does now, Cary! You are ordered to the front!"
"You've guessed it, sweet mistress!" he cried, in a voice whose boyishexultation would not be kept down. "My company is one of those chosenby the Committee of Safety to go north. We march _to-morrow_! In afew days we will be in the field--we shall be in the thick of it!"
"Oh, you are so fortunate, Cary!" responded Barbara. "Think what itmust be to be just a woman, and have to stay at home gnawing one'sheart, while others have the glorious joy of fighting for freedom!"
"Only one thing I need to make me happy as I go, sweet lady!" said he,his voice tender, passionate, caressing. "It is bitter to leave you.But I should go thrilling with happiness, to win fame that would makeyou proud, or to die willingly for my country,--if I might go wearingyour favour, if I might go as--" but here he paused. Barbara's facewas cold and discouraging.
There was a moment of strained silence. Barbara felt a harshresentment at his persistence, and an added anger that it should bethrust upon her on this day when her heart was so bitter sore. "Yet,"she was arguing with herself, "the poor boy does love me. And, unlikesome others, he is going to fight on the right side, to shed his blood,perhaps, for the land of his birth. Why should I not be a little kindto him,--if he does not ask too much!" On a sudden generous andpitying, if misleading, impulse, she took a ribbon from her throat andgave it to him.
"There, boy," she said, gently, "take that, and don't ever say I wasnot good to you! May it be a charm to ward off the bullet and thesteel!"
A glad light flashed into the lad's face. He went down on one knee andkissed the hem of her skirt, crying something inarticulately. Then hesprang up and seized her in his arms, and would have kissed her butthat she wrenched herself free with some violence.
"How dare you!" she cried, stamping her foot.
Cary looked crestfallen and bewildered.
"But, Barbara," he protested, blundering in his confusion, "don't youlove me? I thought--why--this dear ribbon--" and he held it out to herappealingly.
Barbara's anger faded on the instant. She saw that in desiring to bekind she had misled him. She held out her hand to him, and smiled, asshe said:
"Oh, truly, I'm sorry if I seemed rude, Cary. Forgive me. But, youknow, I _had_ to be rather hasty, or you would have kissed me. And Icouldn't let you kiss me, Cary, even though you are going to the war!"
"Why not, dear heart?" persisted he. "Am I not going as your chosencavalier? Have you not given me your favour?"
"Why, no--at least,
not exactly that--" she stammered. "I thought you_knew_, Cary, that I don't love you one bit! I've told you so over andover again; and I've sent you away over and over again for bothering meabout it when I had told you not to! But I do like you, ever so much.And I shall think of you, away fighting bravely--as I know youwill--for our sacred cause. And so, I gave you theribbon--because--because--you said it would make you a little happierif you had something of the sort to take with you! Oh, please do tryto understand, Cary!" And she twisted her hands in distress.
Cary Patten was too much of a boy not to show all the bitterness of hisoverthrow. He had been lifted up to the crest of triumph, and hurleddown disastrously. He had believed, when Barbara gave him her token,that the victory, which his confident spirit had never doubted would behis at last, had come at this high moment of his career. He was notonly desperately hurt, but sorely humbled. His mind worked rapidly,seeking explanations. One passion after another chased itself over histransparent face; till at length Barbara saw his features grow harderand more mature than she had ever before seen them, and the poor littleribbon was crumpled ruthlessly in his grip.
"I understand!" he exclaimed, fiercely, a strident tone in his voicewhich was quite new to her. "It is that runaway Tory hound, thattraitor Gault, that--" and here he choked. "If he has not already runaway I shall settle the scoundrel to-night. I shall--"
"Silence, sir!" cut in Barbara. The tone, the look in her face,brought the mad boy to his senses like a drenching in cold water. Hecould have bitten off his tongue for the outburst.
"Mr. Gault _was_ my friend, and his name is entitled to respect in mypresence!" she went on. "And he _is_ a _gentleman_! Of you I shouldhave said the same thing--a few moments ago! Give me back myribbon--what you have left of it, Mr. Patten!"
"Oh, no! no! Forgive me!" Cary was crying, in abject penitence, evenwhile she spoke, at the same time thrusting the ribbon into his breast,as if he feared that Barbara would take it by force. "I was crazy mad,dear heart. I didn't know what I was saying. I take it all back. Itwas not so. I know he is a gentleman and a brave man, if he _is_ atraitor Tory. Surely you will forgive me, when you have broken myheart--Barbara."
While he was speaking Barbara had moved away to the other side of thetable; but now, so dejected did he look, so humble, so repentant, andwithal so wholesomely boyish, that her heart softened once more, andshe came back.
"Yes, Cary, I will overlook it, and make allowance, because I see youare sorry. And I am still truly your friend, and will think about youwhen you are away. And I am sorry I did anything to make youmisunderstand me, so you _must_ give me back the poor little ribbonthat did the mischief."
"No, you surely can't be so cruel as that!" he pleaded. "I feel itwould be unlucky to give it back. Don't kill me, dear. Let me keepthe dear ribbon!"
Barbara hesitated. She wanted the ribbon back. The giving had beenspoiled for her. Her impulse was to insist. But events of late hadsoftened her, had given her more comprehension of feelings other thanher own,--had made her, indeed, a little less self-centred. Shecrushed down her vexation.
"Well, keep it then, Cary,--and my friendship with it," she said,gravely. "And to the blessing with which I blessed it for you, I addmany more,--that fame may come your way, and danger turn aside.Good-bye!"