CHAPTER XXX.
Barbara felt as if a strange great wind had blown upon New York,scattering and changing everything. Robert was gone,--when she wasseeing little of him, and not desiring to see more, she had,nevertheless, had a satisfaction in knowing he was within reach. NowCary Patten was gone, and Jerry Waite was gone, and young Paget wasgone, and the student enthusiast, young Mr. Hamilton, came no more tothe old Dutch house on State Street, being engrossed in matters ofsecrecy and import. And now she herself and Uncle Bob were going. Shefelt as if that separating wind would inexorably have lifted and borneher somewhere, even if the haven of Second Westings had not been open.Fate drove indifferently, but left her free to shape her course forWestings House and Aunt Hitty, and her own apple-tree down in the backgarden.
A few days later she was at home. Glenowen, resting but an hour ortwo, had hastened on to his duties. Everything seemed to Barbara justas when she went away, save that Doctor Jim was graver than of old,seeming weighed down with care; and Doctor John's absence left a voidthat ached all the time. But her little room was just as she had leftit,--fresh dusted, and with a few things lying about out of place, asshe loved to have it. The dust upon the coverlet where "Mr. Grim"slept was there as of old. "He did not, in fact, sleep there onceduring all your absence, dear," declared Mistress Mehitable, "till thevery night before your return, when he forsook me and stalked back tohis old place. Then I knew that you'd be here the next day, and wewere very happy together; and I gave him clear cream for his breakfast,and made him very sick!"
Within three days the old life had taken Barbara back at every point,and she felt as if she had awakened from a brilliant but oppressivedream. Of course it was interesting telling it all--or not quiteall--to every one; to every one the truth, yet not to each the samestory. There was one emphasis for Aunt Hitty and Doctor Jim, one forthe Reverend Jonathan Sawyer, one for Mercy Chapman, and one much morevivid and enlightening for old Debby. But even as she told it, itbegan to seem unreal to herself. And soon she grew unwilling to talkof it at all.
As the bright Connecticut summer slipped by, Barbara could not butnotice a change of temper among the villagers of Second Westings. Toherself they were as civil, as deferential as ever, but, she thought,with a little difference. Half a dozen families had representatives inthe army besieging Boston, and two of the village homes were inmourning. When she was walking with Doctor Jim she noticed thesullenness with which his hearty, kindly greetings were returned,--asullenness which Doctor Jim never allowed himself to observe. Thenthere was difficulty in getting extra help when special needs arose atWestings House. The people were unwilling to work for MistressMehitable. They positively refused to work with Amos, who had to giveup his innocently convivial evenings at the tavern and remain sulkingin the kitchen, abused and scorned by Abby because he was always in herway. In September, when Congress despatched the army of the north toconquer Canada, seven more men went from Second Westings, andenthusiasm grew. With news of the capture of Montreal came word alsothat two of the Second Westings men had fallen in the battle. Thenfeelings grew hot.
One morning, when Barbara was visiting Mercy Chapman's mother,--now abedridden invalid,--she looked out of the window and saw MistressMehitable coming down the street. As she passed his office, she wasjoined by Doctor Jim, and the two strolled together toward SquireGillig's store. Suddenly she saw Doctor Jim leave Mistress Mehitable'sside, and stride angrily toward the tavern. She ran out at once to seewhat was the matter. What she saw set her speeding after Doctor Jim inbreathless indignation.
Amos, his arms tied behind him, was struggling and kicking in the handsof a dozen men and youths, several of whom had bloody noses to provethat Amos had stood to his colours. Now they were hurrying him to thecooper shop.--where they knew there was a barrel of pitch,--amid criesof "Ride the sneaking Tory on a rail," "Tar and feather him," "Duckhim," "Hang him." All at once they were confronted by the tall bulk ofDoctor Jim; and they stopped short. The old habit of deference wasstrong upon them, and several drew away, while others, though theydoggedly maintained their grip on the furious and unterrified Amos,dropped their eyes and hung their heads when Doctor Jim's angry gazefell upon them.
"Hands off! Drop that man! You cowardly bullies, a dozen against one!Drop him, do you hear?" And without waiting for the effect of hiswords he strode into the mob, flung the fringes of it to this side andthat with no gentle hand, and reached those who had actual hold uponthe prisoner.
When he found that they were standing their ground, daring to disobeyhis orders, his wrath was tremendous.
"You scoundrels! You dirty scum of the earth!" he roared. And withthat he plucked the nearest fellow by the scruff of the neck and theseat of his breeches and flung him into the gutter. To the next hegave an open-handed buffet that sent him reeling from the melee.Ignoring the rest, he was proceeding to unpinion Amos, when the leaderof the mob, a big blacksmith from Westings Centre, who was a famousdemagogue, confronted him.
"Look a-here, Doctor Pigeon," he said, defiantly, "we're lettin' _you_be, leastways for the present! You let us be, an' jest mind yer ownbusiness. Hands off yerself!"
Doctor Jim, apparently, never heard him.
The blacksmith therefore seized Amos by the waist and jerked him fromDoctor Jim's grasp.
"Look a-here, you!" he shouted, squaring off. "You've got to fight meafore you untie that man!"
Fight him! Doctor Jim gave an inarticulate roar of scorn and fury atthe idea. Then his great white hands shot out like lightning. Oneseized the champion's throat; the other laid terrible hold upon hiswaistband, with just so much of clothing and skin and flesh as thoseiron fingers could compass. One huge, dislocating shake and thechampion had no more fight in him. Doctor Jim lifted his demoralisedopponent bodily, carried him several paces, and dropped him over thehorse trough into the dirty, deep-trodden mud. Then, seeing that Amoshad got himself free, he strode back to where Mistress Mehitable waswaiting, his heavy eyebrows still working with indignation.
Barbara, whom he had not seen, now had a word to say to the discomfitedrabble, who one and all knew her views and admired her prodigiously.She eyed them for half a minute with slow, eviscerating scorn. Thenshe said: "_You_ call yourselves patriots! You make me ashamed of thename. If all Americans were like you they'd deserve freedom, wouldn'tthey? And what is that ruffian doing here?" pointing to thebedraggled, discredited, foaming blacksmith. "Must you go to WestingsCentre for a leader? You had better send him back where he belongs!"
"You'd better shet your mouth, miss," sputtered the champion, "or youmay git--" but at this moment the men of Second Westings, recoveringtheir manhood, fell upon him with great unanimity and completed thediscipline which Doctor Jim had left unfinished. And Barbara walkedaway with her head in the air.
After this Mistress Mehitable, who was herself, and for herself,absolutely fearless behind her quiet blue eyes, yielded to Doctor Jim'spersuasions and let it be known that Barbara, being her heir, waspartly in authority at Westings House. Whenever extra help was needed,therefore, Amos was sent down to Doctor Jim's and Barbara hired herhelpers in her own name. To her employ the Second Westings men camewillingly enough, and showed themselves humourously tolerant of Abby'scaustic tongue, which was given full run whenever they entered thekitchen. And the village settled back gradually into a hollowimitation of its ancient somnolence.
In the winter, however, not long after Christmas, there was anotherstirring of the hot embers. Word came of Montgomery's death andArnold's repulse before the walls of Quebec. There were men ofConnecticut among those who fell that night in the northern snow.Those at home required an outlet for their feelings. What were theTories for, if not to afford them a chance of evening matters up? Arabble of the worser elements from the up-river villages, led by somenoisy fanatics, descended upon Gault House by night, and set it on fire.
Finding old Lady Gault ill in bed, they somewhat regretted their haste,and carried her, bed and a
ll, with as much of her clothing as theycould conveniently save, to the house of one of the tenants on thegrounds. The leaders apologised to her, indeed, assuring her that, hadthey known it would so inconvenience her to have her house burnt downjust then, they would have turned their avenging attention elsewherefor that night and awaited her recovery. The fiery and arrogant oldlady was so overwhelmed with helpless rage, less at the destruction ofthe home of the Gaults with all its treasures than at the desecrationshe had suffered, that she was seized next morning with an apoplexy anddied in an hour.
This news brought consternation to Westings House. Doctor Jim came upto talk it over. He was too much enraged to find relief in one of hiscustomary large ebullitions. It reduced him to a black silence, whichBarbara found much more impressive than his wrath.
"I feel that you ought to go away, Jim," said Mistress Mehitable, witha tenderness that made Barbara eye them both sharply, and think ofDoctor John. "These townships are no place for a reckless partisanlike you!"
"There is just one reason why you might urge me to go, sweet mistress!"said he. "Lest I be prisoned here, and so lose the chance to fight forthe king! But my place is here till John comes back. You and Barbaracannot be left alone. And the sick folks,--I cannot desert them. Butwhen John comes--"
"If it be not then too late! Oh, think, Jim! Every hour now that youstay here carries the menace of some ignominious violence! How can Istand it?"
"My place is here, at present, most dear lady!" answered Doctor Jim,with a positiveness that left no room for argument. "But I think themen of Second Westings would not quite fail Jim Pigeon, even thoughthey do curse him behind his back for a Tory!"
The destruction of Gault House and the death of Lady Gault filledBarbara's heart with pity and tenderness toward Robert. It oppressedher with a feeling that he was left desolate, a homeless and wanderingoutcast. She wondered where and when the news would reach him,--beingsuch evil news she felt sure it would journey fast. No word or rumourhad she heard of him since that day of their harsh parting in the oldDutch house on State Street.
A few days later she heard from Glenowen, who was now in command of oneof the regiments besieging Boston, that Cary Patten, after coveringhimself with glory by his wild daring and desperate exploits, hadfallen with Montgomery before the walls of Quebec. This news sentBarbara to her room for the afternoon. Besides her many tears for thegallant boy, who had loved her gallantly and truly, she could not forthe moment rid herself of a vague remorse. Had she been quite fair tohim? Had she encouraged him even while repelling him? At first shecalled herself guilty. But after some hours of this self-reproach shecame to a clearer view, and saw that it was sentimental weakness toaccuse herself. Her grief on his account, however, was deep andsincere. "Poor, beautiful, brave boy!" she sighed, at last. "Howlittle good to him were my token and my blessings! I fear I am acurse, and not a blessing, to any one who greatly cares for me!" Thenthe thought flashed across her--"If it were Robert, instead of poorCary! How do I know that Robert, too, has not been--" and at thethought her heart stood still. A sort of numbness came over her, andshe found herself shaking violently. She had been lying with her facein the pillow, but now she sat up sharply, brushed the thick, darklocks back from her eyes, went over to the dressing-table, lit twocandles, and looked at her white, frightened face in the glass.
"I didn't know I cared--like that!" she said to herself, at last.