Returning about noon to Westings House, early that they might have time
to dress for dinner, Glenowen started to let down the pasture bars.
But Barbara, in high spirits, went over them like a cat, forgetful of
her new dignity. So Glenowen vaulted after her. As they rounded the
end of the barn, Amos came leading a tall sorrel across the yard; and
straightway Barbara assumed a more stately air, while a quick radiance
went over her face.
"That's Robert Gault's horse!" she explained. "I want you to be very
lovely to him, Uncle Bob, for he's such a nice boy, and was so very
civil to me when I made him help me run away. I gave him a terrible
lot of anxiety, you know!"
Glenowen laughed uproariously.
"I don't doubt you did, dear heart!" he agreed. "But Lord, oh, Lord,
what a way of commending a young man to a young lady's doting uncle, to
say he mighty civilly helped her to run away!"
"Now, Uncle Bob, I won't like you if you talk nonsense! You know very
well what I mean. And you are to be nice to Robert!" retorted Barbara,
crisply.
As they went up the long, box-bordered path, Mistress Mehitable and
Robert came strolling down to meet them; and the warmth of Glenowen's
greetings to Robert fulfilled Barbara's utmost demands. For her own
part, however, under the sway of a sudden whim, she chose to be by no
means extraordinarily civil. And Robert's contentment was dashed by a
chilly doubt as to whether or no he had chosen the right day for his
visit. Before they went to their rooms to dress, however, Barbara
relented.
"You should have come last night, Robert," she said, turning to him
graciously at the foot of the stairs. "Then Uncle Bob and I would have
taken you over the lake with us this morning, in _the_ canoe, to see
old Debby!"
She threw an intimate emphasis on the "the,"--and watched with a
curious sense of triumph the swift fading of the cloud from Robert's
face.
For this dinner Barbara dressed with unwonted care. Her plain white
silk petticoat, duly lengthened, worn under her cream brocaded satin
panniers, with buff satin bodice, and white lace short sleeves, gave
her, as she could not but think, a most genteel appearance. With her
new white silk stockings and white satin shoes, two large red roses in
her bosom, and one in the dark mass of her hair just where the curl
hung down, a tiny patch from the adorable new patch-box discreetly
fixed near the corner of her mouth, and the new love-hood to be thrown
carelessly over her head in due time, she felt herself equipped to be
as imperious and unpleasant to Robert as the caprice of the moment
might suggest. When she went down-stairs she found Mistress Mehitable
waiting in the hall, in a gayer gown than she had ever before seen her
wear. It was a silk polonaise, of a tender, gris-de-lin shade, which
became her fair colouring to a marvel; and Barbara was astonished to
see how young and pretty she looked.
"How _perfectly lovely_ you look, dear!" she cried, turning Mistress
Mehitable twice around, and putting a deft touch to the light,
abundant, simply coiffured hair. "No one will give one look at me
to-day!"
Her aunt flung an arm about her, smiling, then tripped away girlishly,
flushed a pretty pink, lifted the edge of her petticoat, and displayed
a slender ankle encased in embroidered sky-blue silk. Barbara clapped
her hands with approval.
"It is five years since I have worn them," said Mistress Mehitable.
"Seeing that I failed so, child, in my efforts to lead you along the
paths of gravity, I have concluded to try and let you lead me along the
paths of frivolity--a little! So I got out my blue silk stockings!"
And spreading her skirts, she was in the act of making Barbara an
elaborate curtsey, when Glenowen, coming up quickly behind her, caught
her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
Mistress Mehitable, startled and taken aback, blushed furiously, and
stood for a second or two in confusion. Then she recovered herself.
She made another stately curtsey, and saying, demurely, "Let me turn
the other cheek also, Mr. Glenowen," presented her face again for a
more formal and less hasty salute.
Barbara clapped her hands with gleeful approbation, but her comment
brought a new rose to Mistress Mehitable's face.
"If I didn't love you so much, Uncle Bob," said she, "I'd tell Doctor
John and Doctor Jim." And from the fact that she felt embarrassed by
this raillery, the conscientious Mistress Mehitable was almost ready to
believe she had done wrong.
The dinner was at two o'clock--an extremely formal hour for Second
Westings; and a further element of formality was added by the presence
of the Reverend Jonathan and Mrs. Sawyer, which effectually removed it
from the category of family affairs. These outsiders, however, were a
kindly pair, and cast no serious shadow upon the gathering. The
Reverend Jonathan kept his austerity pretty strictly for the Sabbath;
and being both well-bred and well educated, knew how on occasion to lay
aside his cloth without sacrifice of dignity or prestige. He was
something of a _bon vivant_, too, in his scholarly way, and among folk
who were unimpeachably of his own class. And his judgment on a butt of
Madeira or a hogshead of old West India rum was accounted second to
none in Second Westings. His hands were long and white, and he used
them with impressive pulpit-gestures to point his carefully constructed
witticisms. His presence was favourably regarded even by Barbara, who
appreciated his brains and breeding in spite of certain disastrous
associations which she could never quite erase from her memory. His
wife was a non-significant, abundant, gently acquiescent pudding of a
woman, not without her utility as a background; and no one but Barbara
had the slightest objection to her presence. But Barbara, having a
fierce impatience of nonentities in general unless they chanced to be
animals instead of human beings, felt critical when her eyes fell upon
the good lady's expansive red bosom. She could not refrain from a
private grimace at Doctor John, and from whispering in his ear an acrid
comment on the inviting of a feather-bed to dinner. She was greatly
disconcerted, however, when Doctor John roared aloud; and, crediting
the good lady with an intuition quite foreign to her placid substance,
her conscience smote her smartly for the unkind comment. By calculated
chance she managed to let herself drift into the scant, unoccupied
corner of the sofa on which Mrs. Sawyer was sitting; and for the long
half-hour before dinner was served she beguiled the good lady most
successfully with thrilling descriptions of the presents which Glenowen
had brought. Mistress Sawyer was dearly fond of dining; but so
enthralled did she become in the description of Mistress Mehitable's
French night-rail that she did not hear when dinner was announced.
Then Barbara escaped, with an appetite and a proud conscience; and
proceeded to deal Robert a cruel blow by seating herself as far away
from him as possible, between Glenowen and Doctor Jim, who wisely
avoided trouble by avoiding interference on the dejected youth's behalf.
Doctor John and Doctor Jim being both tenacious of old Connecticut
customs, the dinner began with a pudding of boiled Yokeag, or maize
meal, stuffed with raisins and suet, and eaten with a rich sauce. Then
came fish and meats in lavish variety, with ripe old ale, followed by
elaborate confections, nuts and fruits, and a fiery, high-flavoured
Madeira. With the Madeira came eloquence in conversation, and the
elaborate interchange of repartee and compliment deepened into a
discussion of the great matters which at that hour filled men's minds.
Barbara tried by daring gaieties to stem the tide of seriousness, which
seemed to her incongruous with the nuts and wine. But she was swept
away, at first reluctantly, then willingly; for, during the past two
years, in the intervals of fighting her aunt and loving her cats, dogs,
and horses, she had studied history, both colonial and English, with a
characteristic, avid zeal, and now had a pretty foundation of theory
under her seemingly reckless conclusions.
In response to many interrogations, Glenowen had given at some length
and with temperate fairness an account of the latest difference in
Virginia between the royal governor and the stiff-necked House of
Burgesses. As the result of this lamentable clash of authorities, the
House had been dissolved, the Old Dominion was being governed in a
fashion contrary to the terms of her long-cherished charter, and the
trade of the colony was disastrously shrunken, because her people were
refusing to import goods subject to duties which they had not
themselves imposed. "When men and women begin to deny themselves
voluntarily for the sake of a principle, whether it be right or wrong,"
continued Glenowen, "it is time for those at the helm to consider
clearly the course on which they are steering the ship of state!"
"When kings lay hands on charters, free men rise up armed," said the
Reverend Jonathan Sawyer, rolling the polished phrase with a relish.
The sentiment sounded so at variance with those which he was commonly
held to cherish, that every one looked at him for a moment in silent
question.
"I speak but in the abstract," he explained, waving a white hand
airily. "In the concrete the question baffles me, and I wait for
light!"
"I confess I am astounded at Virginia," said Doctor Jim, in a great
voice, solemn with reprobation. "Virginia, colony of gentlemen, siding
with the rabble against the king! Where are Virginia's aristocrats?"
"Would you impugn the gentility of Mr. Washington?" inquired Doctor
John, mildly.
"Yes, I would, John Pigeon," snapped Doctor Jim, "or of any one else
who did not show his gentility by his deeds. And so would you, if you
were not a bit tarred with the same dirty brush as Mr. Washington."
"Don't you think," ventured Robert, with diffidence, "that our
grievance--for, of course, there is a grievance, Doctor Jim--is against
the English Parliament? What is Parliament to us, that we should bow
down to it, when we have always had parliaments of our own? What's
sacred in Parliament? But the king,--that's a question of loyalty.
What's a gentleman without loyalty? Surely the gentry must stand or
fall with the king! Surely--"
"What nonsense, Robert!" interrupted Barbara, severely scornful,
indignant at him for his views, but grateful to him for the opportunity
to express her own with point. "Who was it that whipped King John into
submission, and made him sign Magna Charta? Was it the riffraff or the
gentry, I'd like to know? Where there is a real aristocracy, Robert,
there is no need of kings!"
"Barbara, dear!" cried Mistress Mehitable, appalled at this sweeping
heterodoxy. But the others laughed, with varying degrees of sympathy
or dissent. Doctor Jim wagged his head.
"That's right, Robert, my boy," said he, sympathetically. "You draw
her fire, and let me skirmish around. That's the kind of thing I get
continually!"
"Is it true," inquired Doctor John, "that that clear and capacious
intellect, James Otis, is permanently clouded since the wound he got in
the affair with the king's officers?"
"''Tis true, 'tis pity; and pity 'tis, 'tis true!'" quoted Glenowen.
"A fine brain wasted in a smuggler's brawl. I take it there's no
wisdom to waste, among either Tories or Whigs, these days,--for these
days are big with Fate!"
"Uncle Bob!" said Barbara, fixing him with a wide, level look, "what
are you, Whig or Tory? You seem so careful!"
Glenowen laughed.
"You insist on pinning me down to it, do you, saucy hussy? Well, I
wish I knew! I think there are some hundred thousand or more of honest
men in these colonies who are trying to find out which they really are,
right to the bone. But I can tell you in part. For one thing, I am an
Englishman, just as much an Englishman here as if I lived in England!
Do you know what that means?"
"No!" said Barbara, bluntly, dissatisfied at this caution when she
counted on a hot partisanship.
"It means that I will not be taxed save by my own consent! I am too
good an Englishman to let Englishmen in England treat me as less than
an Englishman because I am a colonist. But I am no leveller. I have
no patience with the doctrine of those sentimental Frenchmen who
promulgate the palpable folly that all men are born equal. I am loyal
to the king,--or, perhaps, rather, I should say, to the throne, which
seems to me just now unfortunate in its occupant. But I will not pay a
tax imposed by those who have no right to tax me! I would fight first.
I stand on Magna Charta."
"Then you are a patriot now, Uncle Bob," said Barbara, fairly
satisfied, "and before long you will be a rebel! You wait and see!
You're all afraid to say it, but before long the colonies will be
fighting King George!"
There were exclamations of protest from every one, even Doctor John,
the avowed and consistent Whig,--every one but Glenowen, who smiled
thoughtfully at Barbara's rashness.
"Tut! Tut! You little fire-eater!" exclaimed Doctor John. "You
mustn't bring discredit on your party! We will fight with
constitutional weapons for our just rights, and bring that pig-headed
George to his senses. We must teach him to reign properly, and not to
meddle, that's all. No throat-cuttings in the English family!"
"It would break my heart to fight against my countrymen," said Robert,
earnestly. "But if they should be so misguided as to take up arms
against the king, I should have no doubt as to my duty. The king may
be unjust; but if so, the injustice will doubtless be remedied by and
by. But better, surely, suffer some injustice than be traitor to your
king." This speech took courage on Robert's part, with Barbara's eyes
blazing scorn upon him. But he looked into vacancy, and made his
confession of faith regardless of consequence.
"You fatigue me, Robert!" said Barbara. "Would you rather betray your
country than your king? Was the country made for the king? What's a
king? Greece and Rome did pretty well without them!"
"What's this stuff and nonsense about fighting?" broke in Doctor Jim,
ignoring Barbara's argument as the chatter of a child. "Stuff and
nonsense! The notion of our clodhoppers standing up to the king's
soldiers, who have whipped the armies of the world! It is easy for
demagogues to rant, but they'd find it still easier to run!"
"I fear you all underrate the peril--except this sauce-box here!" said
Glenowen, soberly. "And you, Pigeon, are like the king's purblind
advisers in underrating the spirit of the people. It is not a noisy,
but a sullen temper that seems to be spreading. And clodhoppers are
not all cowards! And those who call themselves patriots are not all
clodhoppers."
"But who among our people can be so suicidal as to think of war?" asked
the Reverend Jonathan Sawyer, taking a contemplative pinch of snuff.
"To fight a hopeless battle, and in inevitable defeat lose all!"
"It is not the people who think of war as yet!" said Glenowen. "But
the arrogant soldiery, the blindly self-confident officials, the
insolent English officers, who seem chosen not to conciliate but to
enrage. So many of the officers sent out here do dishonour to the
repute of English gentlemen. They seem to look on colonists as a
subject race. I have seen them, in New York and in Boston, treat our
ladies with an insufferable condescension, such as they would never
have dared to show toward the same ladies in England. And I have seen
them studiously insolent to colonial gentlemen of birth and breeding
far above their own, as if the accident of being born in the mother
country instead of in America made them another race. Such conduct,
while unimportant in itself, rankles deeply, and sets the two branches
of the race in antagonism. Personal affront is mightier than argument,
and men cannot overlook a slight to their women."
"I should think not!" cried Robert, loftily. "I would shed the last
drop of my blood for the king, but I should not let the king himself
put slight upon one of our ladies! I wonder you could endure to see
such things, Mr. Glenowen!"
"I did not!" confessed Glenowen. "I have had several differences of
late!"
Barbara's eyes sparkled, and her lips parted eagerly over her white
teeth.
"You fought them, Uncle Bob! You fought them!" she cried. "Real
duels! How many did you fight? Oh, how lovely!"
"Two, sweetheart, I'm sorry to say!" replied Glenowen, modestly. "It
was very inconvenient and annoying, because I have so many
responsibilities and could not afford to be skewered."
"And how did you come off?" asked Doctor John, leaning far over the
table in his eagerness.
"Nothing but a scratch or two, thanks to the righteousness of my
cause!" said Glenowen.
"And the other chaps?" inquired Doctor Jim. "Doubtless they were
low-bred scoundrels, whom London would have none of! I hope you
pricked 'em!"
"I wish I could feel sure that their manners had mended as well as
their wounds!" laughed Glenowen, gaily.
Then, to Barbara's ill-concealed disgust, Mistress Mehitable led the
way into the drawing-room, leaving the men to smoke long pipes and
thrash out problems of constitutional law to the accompaniment of the
fiery old Madeira. In the drawing-room she was moody and silent,
grudging all the arguments that were going on without her. And when
Robert, who felt himself too unseasoned to stay with his elders beyond
one pipe and an extra glass, followed the ladies at a decent interval,
Barbara received him far from graciously. His last speech, in comment
on the insolence of the officers, had mollified her a little, but she
felt a smart resentment at his presumption in maintaining views so
opposite to hers.
"I should think you would stay with the other men," she said, tartly.
"I couldn't stay a moment longer," said Robert, gallantly, "for longing
to be with the most fair if _not_ the most gracious of ladies!"
"You had better go back and learn something about your duty to your
country, by listening to Doctor John and Uncle Bob!" she counselled,
rudely.
Robert bowed low, having himself just now well in hand, though his
heart was sore.
"I take great pleasure in listening to them, as well as to Doctor Jim,
who also seems intelligent!" said he.
"Oh," exclaimed Barbara, much nettled. "Doctor Jim talks a lot of
nonsense just to tease me; but he doesn't mean it,--at least, not all
of it. Besides, he is always interesting. But you, with your pedantic
stuff about loyalty and kings and treason, I don't find you interesting
at all! Please go and talk to Aunt Hitty and Mrs. Sawyer, and let me
read. Perhaps I'll be able to forget what you said at dinner!"
"It is my pleasure to obey your lightest wish, fair mistress!" said
Robert, inwardly indignant, but outwardly amused at her ill-humour. He
went at once to the other side of the room, and exerted himself to such
good purpose that soon Mistress Mehitable's rare and silvery laughter
grew frequent, against an almost ceaseless gurgle of content from Mrs.
Sawyer. Robert was completely absorbed, while Barbara's interest in
her book was vexatiously divided. After half an hour she got up and
left the room, but he never noticed her going. Fifteen minutes later
she came back, with the gray and white "Mr. Grim" on her shoulder; and
he never noticed her coming, so intent he was, and so successful, in
his task of amusing Aunt Hitty and Mrs. Sawyer. This was carrying
obedience a little too far, and it fretted Barbara. Then the men came
in from the dining-room, smoky, and a little more fluent than ordinary,
and Robert was ousted from his post by Glenowen and Doctor John. But
instead of returning now to Barbara, he attached himself with an
engrossed air to Doctor Jim; and Barbara found herself established in
her nook with the Reverend Jonathan Sawyer. To be sure, his Reverence
made himself most agreeable, flattering her by the attention he would
have paid to a grown woman whom he considered intelligent. He
appreciated her brains, and acknowledged the lengthening of her
petticoats; and his attitude was a gratifying proof to her that she
really had grown to be a personage, rather than a child, within the
past few days. But she found herself unable to concentrate her wits on
what he was saying, and passed a rather grievous hour trying to look
the attention which her brain was not giving. When, at last, Doctor
Sawyer arose to go, she felt that he must think her the most stupid
girl in the world. Doctor Sawyer, on the contrary, enchanted by the
rapt silence and appreciation with which apparently she had hung upon
his words, went away with the conviction that she was a young woman of
astonishing intellect, whom they had, indeed, wronged greatly in
striving to force her into the narrow Second Westings mould. From that
hour, when she had watched him with glowing eyes, but hearing scarce a
word of all his wit, the Reverend Jonathan Sawyer was one of Barbara's
staunchest champions.
When she turned from saying good-bye to Mrs. Sawyer, Barbara found
Robert standing close beside her in the hall door, apparently absorbed
in contemplation of Mrs. Sawyer's billowy, retreating figure. Barbara
touched him on the arm, and he turned to her with a quick apologetic
courtesy, as if his thoughts had been far off.
"What were you thinking of, so far, far away?" she asked, feeling
somewhat left out and forlorn.
"Why--why--I was thinking--" he stammered, as if unwilling to say, yet
unready with an evasion.
"Oh, you needn't tell me, if it is so embarrassing as all that!" said
Barbara, tossing her head. "I was going to say, that after all the
talk and the excitement, I think the loveliest thing would be some
fresh, sweet air, and the smell of the woods!"
"It would be, indeed--with you!" said Robert.
"Then we will ride till supper-time. No,--there is a moon. We will
ride after supper. You may escort me if you want to! Do you?"
Robert drew a long breath before he answered--and to Barbara the answer
was sufficient.
"Yes, I want to!" he said, simply. "I was afraid I was to go away
without really seeing you at all!"
"Go away!" exclaimed Barbara, lifting her brows in sharp displeasure.
"What do you mean, Robert?"
"I must go back to Gault House to-morrow morning, without fail, for I
start for New York the day following, to be gone all winter."
"Oh!" said Barbara; and turned and led the way back into the
drawing-room, leaving Robert completely mystified as to the meaning of
that noncommittal interjection.