Barbara Ladd Part 25

"Surely, dearest lady, you see that I had no alternative but to go!" he pleaded. "I could not quarrel with him, seeing that he was your guest.

Yet I could not sit and listen to his treason!"

"I think the same treason as he uttered, if treason it be! And utter it, too, when I see fit!" said Barbara.

"That's different!" said Robert, and paused.

It was on Barbara's lips to ask, "How?--Why?" but she refrained, lest she should complicate the discussion.

"That's different," he repeated, "because you are a woman, and because I love you. But indeed, my lady, I intended no discourtesy to Mr.

Hamilton. If discourtesy there were, surely it was his. I would not have attacked what he holds sacred. Yet my sentiments are not less well known than his. He knew that I was pledged to the king's side."

Barbara bit her lips hard. This was just what she had taken such pains not to know. Her heart was bitter enough against him for his views themselves; it was still more bitter against him now for forcing her to confess knowledge of those views.

"A little discourtesy, one way or the other, what would that matter?"

she asked, scornfully. "There's just one thing that matters to me now, Robert. War is coming. Have you chosen your side?"

"My side has chosen me, dear lady!" he answered, sorrowfully.

"Listen, Robert," she went on, "I have tried not to know that you hold opinions which I hate, and loathe, and despise. It means everything to me, when I say I love my country and hate the enemies of my country. I believe in patriotism."

"And I believe, also, in honour and loyalty, oh, my dearest lady!"

"Your own stupid ideas of honour and loyalty!" cried Barbara, with fierce impatience. "I tell you, Robert, the enemy of my country cannot be my friend."

"But if I am the enemy of your country, so is Doctor Jim!" protested Robert.

Barbara flushed with annoyance. She did not like an unanswerable argument.

"I love Doctor Jim!" she shot back at him, with cruel implication.

"And I love you, Barbara!" answered Robert, also with meaning. She tossed her head scornfully.

"A fig for such love!" she cried. "Years ago, when you were just a boy, and could not have your opinions fixed" ("About the age of your Mr. Hamilton!" he interjected, rashly), "I remember asking you, for my sake, to teach yourself the right things, Robert, and join our side, and be faithful to your own country. What do you do? It's not as if it were a mere difference of opinion,--but _I_ am _right_! I am with all the great and wise of old, who have taught that patriotism is a man's highest duty. Yet what have you done, Robert? You vow you love me! Indeed! And you prefer a stupid, far-off, half-crazy tyrant, whom you call your king, and whom you have never seen, to your country, which has borne and cherished you--and to me!"

"Oh, Barbara!" cried Robert, desperately. "What are king or country, what are heaven and earth, to me, compared with you? But what would my love be worth to you if, for the sake of my own happiness, I could be a rebel and a traitor? Should I be worthy to love you, despising myself?

What would you think of me, if I could sell my honour at your bidding!"

"I think our ideas of honour are different, Robert!" retorted Barbara.

"But I am not going to quarrel with you now. I am disappointed in you, that's all. And you need not expect that after this we are going to be such friends as we have been. Remember that. But--you may come and see us sometimes, of course; and I will dance with you sometimes, of course--if you ask me! Only--it is all so different!" and she could not choke down a little weary sigh.

Robert was on his knees in an instant, kissing her hands; but she repulsed him resolutely.

"No, you have chosen for yourself," she said, not unkindly. "It hurts me, truly. But I mean what I say! Now, you must go, for I have much to do before dinner. Good-bye!"

CHAPTER XXIX.

Barbara was as good as her word. From this time forward through that portentous fall and disastrous winter, she never let Robert forget that the old footing of familiar friendship was no longer his. She began to make a difference, too,--slight but appreciable,--toward all the declared Tories among her followers. She was bound to show some consistency toward Robert. And moreover, her fiery and dissatisfied heart was growing restless for the breach that all saw coming but all strove to postpone. Oh, she thought, let the cruel line be drawn,--let the make-believe end,--let us know our friends and enemies apart,--let the suspense be done, be done! And--let me get back home to Second Westings!

Meanwhile the half-mad king went on fashioning the hooks that were to rend the race in twain,--and an insensate Parliament lent power to his fatal hands,--and men like Chatham and Burke, Shelburne and Rockingham, poured out impa.s.sioned eloquence in vain, pleading for justice to the colonies. By mid-winter (the winter of 1775) it was plain to every one that the king meant war, if that were the only way to bring the colonies to their knees. Ten thousand troops were ordered to Boston, and plans were laid for organising the Indians on the frontiers. In the colonies, though few dared say it, all were making ready for the struggle. On every hand there was drilling of militia and gathering of the munitions of war. Only in New York, as it seemed, things moved as usual, and the royal government remained in full force. As a matter of fact, there were practically two governments going on side by side; for the various "committees of safety" went about their ominous preparations, and the governor well knew it would be unsafe to interfere. The air became so tense with impending storm that people seemed 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 waited were most shocked. The bolt that fell was the news of Lexington and Concord, of the king's troops,--disciplined, war-toughened, the bravest in the world,--driven in wild rout before the sharp-shooting colonial farmers. For five days of amazement men waited, expecting the b.l.o.o.d.y vengeance that would come. But, instead of vengeance, came the word that Boston was beleaguered, that Gage with his veteran regiments was shut up tight in the city by ill-armed and unorganised countryside militia. Straightway men drew breath again; and the undecided chose their side; and masks were thrown away. Even New York, the prudent, the divided, the long politic, proclaimed herself at last, threw off the last empty forms of royal authority, and seized all military supplies within her borders.

The glittering life, which had been to Barbara so gay an intoxication all these months, now burst like a bubble, leaving her to realise how hollow it had been. She had no regret for it, save as a help to forgetting regrets. She was dissatisfied, and wanted Second Westings.

When, therefore, her uncle came to her, a few days after the news of Bunker Hill, with word that he had accepted a commission under General Washington, the newly appointed commander-in-chief of the Continental forces, she was not greatly surprised or shocked. She had known all along that Glenowen would be at the front. She had faced all the fear of it, and taught herself to think only of the honour. Now, she turned very pale, tried to smile encouragement, but sobbed instead, ran to him and held him and kissed him.

"Of course, Uncle Bob! You must, I know. I will be brave about it, I promise I will, and not worry you with any silliness!" she murmured at last, finding her voice. "I wish _I_ were a man, so I could go with you!"

"And a fiery little fighter you would make, sweetheart!" said Glenowen, cheerfully. "But the immediate point is, since you can't go a-soldiering with your old uncle, what shall we do with you? I leave within 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 are fighting!"

"That's the best plan, decidedly, Barbe, for more reasons than one," he answered, suddenly grave. "But I don't think you can depend on Doctor Jim for very long!"

"Why, where is he going?" queried Barbara, anxiously.

"Well, you know, he'll _choose_ to go wherever the Royalist volunteers may be organising their forces; but if he did not choose, he'd probably have no choice. Our Connecticut folk left many dead on Breed's Hill, dear, and the Royalists are beginning to find their homes too hot for them. I'm afraid Doctor Jim will be in peril of rough handling, with his 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 stirred out of their accustomed frame of mind. Besides, even if the Second Westings lads should be mindful of their manners, there are the rougher sort from the neighbouring villages to be thought of. _They_ owe no allegiance to a Pigeon, or a Ladd either! It may be you will find yourself a very necessary shield to Mistress Mehitable, even!"

"I should like to see them try to interfere with Aunt Hitty!" flamed Barbara, setting her white teeth and flushing. "I'd shoot them, if they _are_ patriots!"

Glenowen nodded approval, but counselled caution.

"You may need to be firm, girlie, but you'll need to be careful and tactful too, or you may find yourself fighting on the wrong side!" he laughed.

"Do you really mean to say that our people are beginning to attack the Tories, just because they think they ought to stick to old King George?" queried Barbara, her thought turning to Robert, whom she had not seen or heard of for more than a week.

"That's inevitable," said Glenowen. "If we are to fight England, we fight the Tories,--and the Tories with the more bitterness because we feel that they ought to be with us. I've heard ugly talk already of tar and feathers for some of our important men here. And they have heard it themselves, and found that business called them urgently elsewhere! Other of our Tory friends are getting up volunteer companies,--a sort of counterblast to our militia battalions. I hear talk, too, of forcibly disarming all our Tories,--especially on Long Island, where they are as thick as hornets!"

"I suppose that's what Robert is doing--getting up a company to fight against us! We've not seen him for a week!" said Barbara, with a bitterness 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, to prevent him doing more mischief; but he's so liked, and respected for his fairness, by all of our party, that no one cares to take the necessary 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 that he has nailed them to the mast of the wrong ship!"

"I have no patience with him!" muttered Barbara, bitterly, after a moment's silence.

"Did you ever have, dearie?" inquired Glenowen.