Barbara Ladd

by Sir Charles G. D. Roberts

  CHAPTER XXV.

  To her first ball Barbara went in a chair, just five days after herarrival in New York. The method of locomotion appealed greatly to hermood; and as the bearers jogged her gently along, she kept her piquantface at the window and felt as if she were playing one of the picturesof court ladies on their way to St. James's,--ladies such as she hadoften dreamed over in the London prints. For this ball, given at theVan Griff house, just a few blocks from her own lodgings, she wasdressed in the very height of the mode, as to all save her hair. Shewas obstinate in her aversion to the high, elaborate coiffure,--in heradherence to the simple fashion and the single massive curl which shehad decided upon, after many experiments, as best becoming her face.She liked her hair, accounting it her only beauty, and rather thandisguise it she would let the mode go hang. For the rest, her attiremet the severest demands of Uncle Bob, who was even won, at the last,to approve what he called her eccentricity in the matter of hair. Hedecided that her very precise modishness in other respects would proveher title to independence in the one respect; and it was withunqualified satisfaction that he contemplated the effect she wouldproduce on the New York fashionables.

  "Are you sure I look fit to be seen with you, Uncle Bob?" she hadinquired, anxiously, the last thing before they set out. "You are sucha beau, you dear; and so distinguished-looking!"

  "I shall take no discredit by reason of you, I think!" answeredGlenowen, dryly. "Unless, indeed, by reason of the slayings of youreyes! But slay the gallants, slay them, sweetheart! They be king'smen, mostly,--and there'll be so many the less to fight, by and by, forthe king!"

  "I'll do what such a homely little brown thing can!" laughed Barbara,blithely, an excited thrill in her voice. But even at the moment herheart misgave her, at the thought that, more than likely, Robert wasone of these same "king's men!"

  This first ball, at the Van Griffs', was to Barbara a whirl of lights,and colours, and flowers, and bowing, promenading, pirouetting forms.The spacious rooms and shining floors and smiling faces and stirringmusic intoxicated her. The variety and brightness of the costumesastonished her, the women's dresses being fairly outshone by the strongcolours of the uniforms worn by the English officers, and by the evenmore dazzling garb affected by the civilians. Yet if all thisbewildered her heart, outwardly she was at ease, composed, and ready;and Glenowen, across the room, watching her the centre of a group ofeager gallants,--fop, officer, and functionary alike clamouring for herhand in the dance,--wondered if this could be the headlong, hard-ridinglittle hussy whom he had brought from the wilds of Second Westings.The stately belles of Manhattan, beauties serene or beauties gay,sisters to the lily or sisters to the poppy and the tulip, eyed withcritical half-disfavour this wilding rose from the backwoods, agreedthat she was queer-looking if not ugly, and resented her independencein wearing her hair so as to display its beauties to full advantage.That she was well gowned and danced well, they were in general fairenough to acknowledge; but they could not see why so many men found herinteresting to talk to. In a word, she was a success from the start.She went home at last, very wide-eyed, tired, triumphant, excited--anddisappointed. She had not seen Robert. She had just once heard hisname, spoken casually, as that of one whose absence seemed a thingunusual, whose presence seemed a thing to be desired. She knew thatshe had made an impression. She knew, even, that she had made herselfpopular, at least with the men. With her accustomed candour she hadproclaimed herself a rebel, in response to some jest at the expense ofBoston, and had settled the score thrice over by her witty jibes atKing George. But even in that royalist circle her audacity had doneher no harm. The English officers themselves, carried away by herbrilliance and amused by her daring, were loudest in their applause.They not unreasonably agreed in their hearts that it could do the kingno harm, while it undoubtedly would be a great satisfaction tothemselves, if they could win some favour in the eyes of this mostbewildering and provocative little rebel. Perceiving this, Barbara hadnot spared her shafts; and the most deeply wounded of her victims hadbeen the most assiduous of her admirers. But of all the men who hadbeen presented to her, danced with her, paid court to her, of all thewomen whom she had met, favoured, or in clash of glances subtly defied,she retained but a bright jumble of unassorted names and faces. Oneonly had gained a foothold in her remembrance. A certain young officerin the colonial militia, one Cary Patten by name, had been presented toher by her uncle with particular commendation, as being altogether ofhis own way of thought; and him, for his laughing blue eyes, his frankmouth, his broad shoulders, and his boyish swagger, she had liked sowell that he stood out among her impressions, and she felt it would bepleasant to meet him again. In fact, to his open and immense elation,she had told him so.

  "Well, mistress mine, how did you like it?" asked Glenowen, as, candlein one hand and skirts in the other, she held up her face to be kissedgood-night.

  "Oh, I loved it, Uncle Bob!" she answered, with conviction.

  "Well, it loved you!" said Uncle Bob.

  But as he turned away to his own room, he wondered if Barbara wasreally quite as satisfied as she professed, or whether her failure tomeet Robert, and include him among the numbers of her slain, hadclouded at all the splendour of her triumph.

  Two evenings later there was another ball, an altogether bigger andmore imposing function, at the house of the Surveyor-General half amile out of town. At this, as she was told, every one would bepresent, and therefore, she agreed, Robert would certainly appear.With a view to circumstances which might conceivably arise in the eventof Robert's appearance, she had with great difficulty kept a number ofdances free, when her admiring cavaliers at the Van Griffs' werestriving to fill her cards in advance. If he should fail tocome,--well, she had reason to think that she would not be left tolanguish unattended.

  Meanwhile, however, she little knew how violently her pretty scheme wasbeing brought to nought, she little knew how emphatically Robert wasbeing enlightened as to her presence in New York. She should, indeed,have thought that the story of her triumphs at the Van Griffs' wouldreach his ears, for on the day following that event, her maid, agarrulous West Indian mulatto whom Glenowen had engaged immediately ontheir arrival, had told her over her toilet that her name was alreadythe toast of the finest gentlemen in town. But somehow it neveroccurred to her that Robert would hear anything. She thought of himonly as riding, or paddling a canoe, or sitting at his desk, or goingto balls and wandering about alone, thinking of her, gravely smilingnow and then, courteous, and silent. As a vital factor in thisglittering life he had never presented himself to her imagination,--orit is possible she might have written to him from Second Westings moreoften than twice or thrice in the year!

  The house of the Surveyor-General stood behind its trees far back fromthe road, on a series of terraces set with walks, parterres, trimmedhedges, statuary, and secret arbours. The house was a blaze of light.The terraces were lighted with a gay discretion, here shining, thereenshadowed. As she drove up with her uncle in the coach, a littlelate, and heard the music and the musical babble of voices, Barbarathrilled deliciously, with a prescience that this was to be an eventfulnight. She was no longer dazzled,--only strung to the highest tension.She realised that all this was her birthright, to be used, played with,thrown aside when tired of, but meanwhile enjoyed to the topmost pitchof relish,--hers just as much as the buttercup fields, the thrush-sweetorchards, the ancient woods of Connecticut. She felt herself mistressof the situation.

  "Oh, Uncle Bob," she whispered, drawing a quick breath of anticipation,as she gave him her hand and stepped daintily from the coach, herhigh-buckled, high-heeled white satin slippers and little white silkenankles glimmering for an instant to the ensnaring of the favouredeye,--"oh, Uncle Bob, isn't it lovely?"

  "You are, my Barbe!" he answered, peering down with high content uponthe small disastrous face half-hidden in the hood of her scarletcardinal.

  "Let me tell you, Uncle Bob, you look extremely nice yourself!" sheresp
onded, squeezing his hand hard. "I didn't see one other man at Mr.Van Griff's so handsome and distinguished-looking as you!"

  "Dear me!" retorted Glenowen, musingly, "what is the baggage going toask me for to-morrow? Whatever it be, she must have it!"

  Barbara reached her hostess with difficulty, and was given small timefor her greetings. All through her first dance she was so absorbed inlooking for Robert that she paid scant attention to her partner'scompliments, though she realised that they contained imcomprehensibleveiled reference to something which she was supposed to know all about.To her partner, one Jerry Waite by name, her ignorance seemed assumed,and vastly well assumed; and presently with his growing admiration forher cleverness came a dread lest he should transgress, so hediplomatically shifted to new ground. But had she not been quiteabsorbed in her quest, Barbara's most lively curiosity would have beenawakened by his meaning words.

  At last she sat down by a curtained doorway and sent Mr. Waite to gether fan, that she might make up her mind as to the advisability ofinquiring frankly about Robert. Her scheme was working too slowly forher impatient spirit; and, moreover, it was beginning to dawn upon herthat Robert might not unnaturally feel aggrieved, and perhaps evenprove difficult and exasperating, if she did not see him soon. She hadabout concluded to invoke the aid of Uncle Bob,--with whom she was byand by to dance the minuet,--when a word behind the curtain caught herear.

  "La! Mr. Gault!" cried a pretty, affected, high-pitched voice. "Whothought we should be so favoured as to see you here to-night! Notdancing, surely! But 'twere less cruel to us poor maids to stay awayentirely, than to come and let us look and pine in vain. But you arevery white,--sit down by me and tell me all about it. La, there'snothing I so love!"

  It was Robert's voice that answered,--Robert's voice, but grown deeper,stronger, more assured, than as Barbara thought she remembered it.

  "It was nothing at all, dear Miss Betty,--a mere scratch!" he answered."'Tis but the loss of a little blood makes me paler than ordinary, Isuppose. But the doctor said there was no reason in the world I shouldnot look in on the gaieties for a minute or two,--and see what newwonder of a gown Miss Betty was wearing,--provided I gave my word notto dance."

  Barbara was conscious of the rustle of Miss Betty's flirtatious fan.

  "La, sir!" cried the pretty, high voice again, "you make light, of it;but they tell me it was very handsome done. And is it true that poorCarberry is in a bad way? Fie upon you, Mr. Gault, to spit an officerof the king and so strengthen the hands of the enemy."

  Barbara's heart was beating very fast. So Robert had been fighting aduel, had he! And been wounded,--but slightly! And the quarrel withan officer of the king! This looked as if her anxieties wereunfounded. But on the other hand, this loquacious girl--whom Barbaradespised instantly and honestly--seemed to claim him as belonging tothe king's party. Barbara trembled with excitement, and with fear lesther absent escort should come back too soon. He did come back, at thatmoment; but with a ravishing look that turned his brain she sent offagain for an ice and a glass of punch. Meanwhile her alert ears hadheard Robert replying cheerfully to Miss Betty.

  "Oh, Carberry will be all right in a week or two," said he. "'Twouldmuch hasten his recovery were one to send him word of Miss Betty'ssolicitude. A three weeks at most will take him off my conscience andthe doctor's hands!"

  Here another voice intervened.

  "Traitress!" it exclaimed, "I have been seeking you this half-hour!"

  "Let me talk to Mr. Gault one moment more, Jack!" pleaded Miss Betty."He was just going to tell me all about it,--weren't you, Mr. Gault?"

  "Not if I know Bob Gault," retorted the voice. "Nay, nay, dear lady, Iwill yield you not one minute more to Gault, on any pretext. Shall Icourt disaster by leaving the most fickle as the fairest of her sex tothe wiles of this pale hero, this wounded champion of dames!"

  "You're right, Jack!" cried Miss Betty. "I see he's dying withimpatience to go and find her, and claim a champion's reward! She'shere, Mr. Gault. I saw her but a moment back. Go wherever you see themen a-crowding fiercest!"

  So Robert had fought for some woman, had he? He had a tie, then!Barbara felt a tightening about her heart, an impulse to rush from theroom. Then she said to herself, "What more natural? What are we butthe best of friends? And have I ever been really nice to him?"Promptly anger took the place of the unreasonable hurt; and the angermade her cool upon the surface, so that she had herself well gatheredin hand when the curtain was pushed aside, and Robert camethrough--just at the same moment that her partner came up with thepunch.

  Robert sprang forward with face transfigured. But to Barbara's chagrinhe did not seem at all surprised.

  "I am glad to see you, Robert!" she said, gravely, holding out her hand.

  Robert bent over it and kissed it in silence, unable, for the moment,to find his voice.

  "Are you not glad to see me--to see an old friend out of the old days?"asked Barbara.

  "I have no words to tell you how glad I am, my dear lady!" he answered,in a low voice, wishing that Jerry Waite would have sense enough to goaway, instead of standing there in that idiotic fashion with the punch.

  "But aren't you _surprised_ to see me, Robert?" Barbara went on,forgetful of Mr. Waite and the punch.

  "I suppose I ought to be surprised, my lady," answered Robert, withsome bitterness in his tone, "surprised that you have condescended tosee me at all, in view of the length of time you have been here withoutletting me know! I learned yesterday of your coming--after every onein town apparently knew of it!"

  To Jerry Waite the scene was utterly incomprehensible. Oblivious toall good manners, he was staring open-mouthed. Barbara saw theastonishment in his face, quite naturally misunderstood it, and flushedangrily. The pain and wrath which she had by such an effort of willcrushed down in her heart crept up again stealthily, and began tomingle unrecognised with this superficial annoyance.

  "I had thought to surprise you,--a harmless little play, Robert, to seeif you would recognise an old, old friend grown up!" she said, in acool voice. "But since you are so dissatisfied, we had better not talkabout it. You may call and see me some day soon, if you like. I amjust around the corner, on State Street. Uncle Bob will give you theaddress. Will you take me back to my seat, Mr. Waite? Thank you somuch for the punch."

  Robert could not believe his ears. Was he dismissed for the evening?The blood began to beat fiercely in his head.

  "But, Barbara," he exclaimed, "aren't you going to give me at least_one_ dance?-- Hold on, Waite, just a minute, will you!-- You can'tbe engaged for all so early in the evening. I came at the very first,in hopes of catching you and getting several."

  Barbara paused. By this time the thought of that other woman, for whomhe had fought,--for whom he was wounded,--for whom he carried now thispallor,--for whom he had been too impatient to talk to Miss Bettybehind the curtain,--the thought of that other woman was gnawing at herbrain in a way to confuse her judgment. She was not exactly in lovewith Robert, but she was intensely interested, and in the course of theyears a sense of proprietorship had grown up. The idea of anotherwoman, with a prior claim, outraged her pride at the same time that itwrenched her heart with a sense of irremediable loss.

  "You are not dancing, I understand, Robert," she said, looking coldlyinto his eyes.

  Robert's heart gave an exultant leap. She knew about the duel, then!

  "I had thought, my lady," said he, softly, "that you might, under thecircumstances, consent to forego a dance or two, and talk with me aboutold times."

  The circumstances, indeed! Barbara's eyes blazed in spite of all herefforts at self-control. This was insolence. Yet she could in no wayshow she recognised it. For a second or two she held her tongue.

  "I hear you have been greatly distinguishing yourself, Robert," sheanswered, in a voice of somewhat artificial sweetness, "and have takensome hurt in the affair, and really should not be here at all!" Shelooked at her tab
lets with hypocritical care. "You should have foundme earlier. I shall not be free to give you a dance for _hours_yet,--not till quite near the last. You will probably not be able tostay so long!"

  Robert grew tenfold whiter than before, and his mouth set itself likeiron. She knew,--it was clear she knew,--and yet she could act in thishopelessly light, cruel, merciless way. It was inhuman. Had she nospark of womanly tenderness? He would trouble her no more.

  "No, I shall not stay," he said, quietly. "Good-night, Mistress Ladd!Good-night, Waite!" He took her outstretched hand so lightly that shesaw rather than felt that he had taken it; bowed over it, so low thathe seemed to kiss it, yet did not actually touch it with his lips; thennodded civilly to Waite, strode off down the side of the room, throughthe door, and was gone. Barbara little guessed the many eyes that hadwatched and wondered at the episode. She imagined that all were quiteengrossed in the dancing.

  "Now please take me to the other room, Mr. Waite!" she commanded. "Ifear I was engaged for this very dance, and my partner will think merude!"

  Waite was in hopeless bewilderment. He particularly liked and admiredRobert Gault. He was silent for a few moments, and then exclaimed withseeming irrelevance: "Women do beat me!"

  Barbara looked up at him quickly, as she took her seat.

  "What do you mean?" she asked.

  "I beg your pardon, most fair and inexplicable Mistress Ladd," repliedWaite, who had been puzzled almost out of his manners, "but,--if youwill permit me to say it,--if this be the fate of your friends, what,oh, what must be the fate of your enemies!"

  "I don't understand you!" said Barbara, haughtily. "Pray explainyourself!" But just then a young scarlet-coated officer, Nevil Paget,came up, claiming the hand of Mistress Ladd; and Jerry Waite, who hadbegun to realise that he was in deep water, hailed the rescue gladly.

  "I shall have the honour to claim you again, gracious mistress," saidhe, "and I shall explain myself then, if you bid me. Meanwhile, I makeway for those more fortunate than I."

  And now, in her bitterness and disappointment, Barbara flung herselfheart and soul into the folly. When the young Englishman started tospeak of a duel, she shut him up so mercilessly that for five minuteshe durst not open his mouth. But she proceeded to flirt and bedazzlehim, half flouting, half flattering, till in five minutes more he wasnigh ready to fling all the pedigree of all the Pagets at her small,light-dancing feet and beg her to dance upon it her whole life long.She danced everything, and between the dances held a court more crowdedand more devoted than that which had paid her homage at the VanGriffs'. She was deaf to all attempts to lure her out upon the fairyterraces, because when she first saw them she had decided that Robertshould take her out there to tell her what a wonderful surprise she hadgiven him. But the men whom she refused were not driven away by herdenial. She mixed bitter and sweet for them all so cunningly that nonecould tell in which of the twain lay the magic that held them thrall.And all the while her heart smouldered in her breast like a hot coal inthe ash.

  At length came her minuet with Glenowen; and after it her uncle, whothought he detected something feverish in her gaiety, and felt moved tocool it a little if he might without damage, asked her if she had seenRobert.

  "For a moment or two," she answered, with an indifference beyond reason.

  Glenowen had heard all the story of the duel, and wondered what hadgone wrong.

  "Why did he go home, sweetheart, so soon after our coming?" he inquired.

  "Did he go home?" she queried, casually. "You know he was hardly fitto be out. Even heroes can't stand the loss of blood!"

  "What did you do to him, child?" persisted Glenowen.

  This questioning chafed on Barbara's raw and bleeding nerves.

  "Robert made himself very disagreeable," she replied, crisply. "Ishowed that I was disappointed in him, and he seems to have got angryand gone home!"

  "Disappointed in him!" exclaimed Glenowen. Then he hesitated, and wenton: "Really, Barbara, are you quite human? Forgive me if I--"

  Barbara faced him squarely, and he felt, though he could not see, theflood of tears pent up behind her shining eyes.

  "Uncle Bob!" she whispered, in a tense voice, "if you are going tocriticise, take me home _right away_. I can't stand one thing more!"

  Glenowen knew her better than any one else ever could, and hisdispleasure melted as he caught signal of a distress which he did notunderstand. Yet he knew better than to be too sympathetic, having morethan once experienced the perilous relaxing powers of sympathy.

  "Well, well, sweetheart," he laughed, lightly, "forgive me. I've nodoubt it would seem all right if I knew. And what does it matter to meabout Bobby Gault, anyhow, so long as my little girl is happy?"

  "She isn't happy, Uncle Bob! But that isn't _your_ fault, you dear,not ever in the world!"

  As they moved apart from the promenading throng, and paused at an openwindow overlooking the terraces, Barbara's ears, acute as those of thefurtive kindred in Westings forest, again caught a word that was notintended for them. She saw two painted and tower-headed dames, sittingnot far from the window, point her out to another who had just taken aseat beside them; and she heard the newcomer remark, behind her fan:

  "That ugly little rebel! Insult an officer of the king's troops forher!"

  Barbara's face flushed scarlet, and she looked at her uncle. But hehad heard nothing,--and she remembered that her ears were keener thanthose of other people. The remark, however, puzzled her, and started avague, troublesome misgiving. Thereafter she found it difficult toresume the spontaneous fervour of her gaiety. Fits of abstractionwould take her unawares; but her courtiers thought them merely anothertouch of art, effective as they were unexpected. She was now lookingforward to the dance with Jerry Waite, and the explanation which he hadso rashly promised. She had intended to snub him severely, but when hecame for her at last he found her altogether gracious.

  "Would you mind very much if we sat somewhere and talked, instead ofdancing?" she asked. And Waite, nothing loth, led her to a seat justbeyond the long windows,--nearer to the terrace than any other man hadsucceeded in getting her to go. This filled him with elation, and hewas glad, rather than otherwise, that she had refused to go out amongthe walks and arbours. Here his triumph was visible every moment tohis disappointed rivals. He was, of course, like the rest, halfinfatuated with Barbara; but being a sane youth, with a sense ofhumour, he knew the difference between infatuation and halfinfatuation. He imagined there was more between Barbara and Robertthan there really was; and he did not hold himself any match for Robertin a race for hearts. Therefore, he was capable of thinking of his ownprestige. And to heighten that he had an inspiration. When, afterwaiting till she could wait no longer, for him to bring up the subject,Barbara asked him to give her the promised explanation of his remark,he fenced cleverly till the time was close at hand when he knew shewould be claimed by another partner. He saw this prospective partner,Cary Patten, eyeing her hungrily, ready to swoop down and takepossession at the first permissible moment. Then he said: "In verytruth, fair mistress, the explanation necessitates a long story. Totell you a little would leave me in a worse light than I could endureyou to behold me in. The story comes first,--and then the explanationfollows with ease!"

  "When will you explain? My curiosity has been most artisticallyaroused!" said Barbara, maintaining with an effort her tone ofsprightly merriment.

  "If I might have the honour of waiting upon you to-morrow, I am bold tohope I might succeed in interesting you!" suggested Waite.

  "You may come in the morning," answered Barbara, promptly. "Say abouteleven o'clock."

  The delighted Jerry was ceremoniously bowing his gratitude for thiscommand, conscious that it would make him the envied of all thegallants of Manhattan, when Cary Patten came up and carried Barbara offwith rather more eagerness than ceremony. He had been most hard hit ofall her victims at the Van Griffs' ball, and had experienced deepdejection over the rum
our which had that day associated her name withRobert Gault's. Robert's early departure from the ball had somewhatcheered him, however; and now, with that simplicity, not unlikeBarbara's own, born of secure family position and careless disregard ofconvention, he determined to find out if the field were open. He sawthat Barbara was distinctly friendly to him,--whether for his own sakeor for what Glenowen had told her of his sympathies,--and he trusted tohis directness to disarm her possible resentment of his questioning.

  "If you will pardon me, gracious lady," he began, after the customaryinterchange of compliment, "I am going to ask you something about ourfriend Gault. Carberry was accounted till to-day the best sword in thecolony. Now he stands second best! It took uncommon high courage oruncommon deep interest in the quarrel, to cross swords with such amaster,--but, of course--"

  Barbara's face changed, and she interrupted him crisply. His firstphrases had been interesting enough, but at the words "uncommon deepinterest in the quarrel," the vision of that unknown woman floated upand laughed in her face.

  "I am weary of the subject, Captain Patten. It seems to me it shouldbe possible to talk of something else. If not, let us listen to themusic, please!"

  Never before had Cary Patten been so snubbed. The experience was novelto him, and he did not like it. But he found more than amplecompensation in the thought that Barbara's words showed no impassionedinterest in Robert Gault! If such a fight, and in such a cause, lefther indifferent, then surely he need have no great fear of Robert as arival. To be sure, he thought Barbara's indifference a little cruel, alittle heartless,--but so much the greater the reward if he couldawaken heart in this flashing, audacious, irresistible little witch.Cary Patten had small knowledge of the feminine heart, being muchabsorbed in his boyish ambitions, his dreams of splendid daring; and hehad a healthy, well-founded faith in his own powers. His bright,handsome face looked glum for a moment or two; then he laughed franklyand cried:

  "Served me just right, for being so bold, sweet mistress. I imploreyou forgive me, and be friends! On bended knee I sue--to speakfiguratively. I dare not do it in fact, you know, else all the men inthe room would be on their knees about you, which would look singular!"

  Yes, he was a nice boy, and Barbara not only forgave him, but tried toresume her old gaiety for his pleasure. So far as his pleasure wasconcerned, she succeeded; though older and keener eyes than CaryPatten's would have seen that her mirth was forced. He left herfeeling that he had made no small progress; and he trod on air in hiselation because she had promised him no less than three dances at thevery next ball at which they should meet. His succeeding partnersfound him tender but absent-minded,--a combination which theyinterpreted to their advantage or otherwise, according to theirknowledge of men's hearts.

  But as for Barbara's heart, it was now yielding to the strain, and shefelt that she could keep up the play no longer. Her anger had givenout before the need of it, as a stimulant to flirtation, was past.Only pain, humiliation, disappointment, remained to her, and she feltthat if she did not get away at once something would happen. With allthe obstinate force of her will she kept a hold upon her imperiousvivacity, and would hear no appeals when her next partner was bidden tofetch her uncle and call her coach.

  "Take me home, _please_, Uncle Bob!" she pleaded; and he, after aglance into her eyes, yielded comprehendingly. Her reason for going,indeed, he did not comprehend; but her need of going he comprehendedinstantly. Till the very last moment she kept herself at pitch,laughing, sweetly jibing, taunting, provoking, inviting, so that themen who insisted on helping Glenowen escort her to her coach felt thatthe glitter had gone from the dance with her departure. But once safeinside the coach, and beyond the lights, she flung herself upon UncleBob's neck and broke into a storm of sobbing. She vouchsafed noexplanation, and the sagacious Glenowen asked no questions; and shewept, intermittently, all the way to the high-stooped old Dutch houseon State Street. To such a bitter end had come the evening, thewondrous evening, of which she had hoped, expected, claimed so much!