CHAPTER XXVII.
For the next few weeks Barbara enjoyed herself without stint, and foundNew York quite all that she had painted it. To Robert she nowvouchsafed sufficient favour to keep him fairly happy and goodcompany,--or, at least, to enable him to make himself good company byan effort of will. Yet she held him on the chilly side of thatfrontier which separates the lover from the comrade. He was herfavoured escort, but not so favoured that other admirers could fancythemselves warned from the field. And he was kept restless, tormented,jealous. He was made to feel--as others were allowed to think--thathis primacy in privilege was based solely upon old friendship andfamiliar memories. But the moment he attempted to crowd aside the newfriends,--among whom Cary Patten, Jerry Waite, and young Paget causedhim especial worry,--Barbara would seem to forget all their intimacyand relegate him to a position somewhat more remote than that of themerest acquaintance. The utmost that he durst claim at any time was acertain slight precedence in her train of devoted cavaliers. Shedanced, rode, flirted, with something so near approaching impartialitythat she let no moth quite feel itself a fool in scorching its wings ather eyes. Yet no one could presume upon her graciousness; and no onebut Cary Patten had the temerity to push his suit to the point whereshe was put on the defensive. Cary Patten was promptly dismissed. Butwhen he as promptly came back on the very first occasion, she hadforgotten the matter, and remembered only how she liked his honestboyishness, his sanguine boldness. Cary, applying one of those generalrules which were apt to be so inapplicable in the special case ofBarbara, decided that not one, nor indeed a dozen, refusals need reducehim to despair! And Barbara, when afterward she came to think of it,liked Cary Patten the better because he had not sulked over his defeat.
Meanwhile Barbara was exercising a restraint upon one point, which wasin flat contradiction to her wonted directness. She was carefullyavoiding, in Robert's presence, a discussion of those politicalquestions with which the whole country, from Maine to Georgia, was thenseething. This was easier than it would have been even a few weeksbefore, for the reason that as the differences grew more deadly societygrew more cautious about letting them intrude themselves among itssmooth observances. Barbara, in fact, had come to fear the inevitablediscussion with Robert. She knew he was identified with the Toryparty, but she did not know how far. And she feared her own heat ofpartisanship not less than his resolution--which she called obstinacy.So, by tacit consent, she and Robert gave wide berth to the periloustheme; till at length their avoidance of it, when it was thrilling onthe very air they breathed, made it begin to loom all the larger anddarker between them. Presently the apprehension that it was animpending peril to their relation drove Robert to speak, precipitately,on the subject that was bursting his heart night and day.
They had just come in from an afternoon ride, and were alone in thedrawing-room. Barbara was in high good humour; and Robert seized themoment to ask leave to return that same evening.
"I'm sorry, Robert! I'd love to have you come," she replied. "ButI've promised the evening to Cary Patten. He wants to bring his fiddleand try over some new music with me."
Robert's face darkened.
"Cary Patten seems to be here all the time!" he exclaimed, with naturalexaggeration.
"What nonsense! You know that's not true, Robert. He's not here_half_ as much as you are. But if he were, what of it? He's verygood-looking, and Uncle Bob and I both like him, and, indeed, he's_much_ more _entertaining_ than you, Robert!"
Robert walked quickly across the room and back, then seized both herslim brown wrists in a grip whose severity she rather liked. She feltthat something disturbing was at hand, however, and she braced her witsto manage it.
"Barbara,--my lady,--my lady,--I love you!" he said, very quietly.
"Of course, Robert! I know that," she answered, with composure,smiling up at him, and making no effort to free her wrists. Yet insome way her smile checked him, as he was about to crush her in hisarms. His breast ached fiercely so to crush her, yet it was impossible.
"With all my heart and soul, my lady," he went on, his voice on thedead level of intense emotion, "with every drop of blood in my body, Ilove you, I have loved you, ever since the old child days in SecondWestings!"
"That is very dear of you, Robert," she responded, her voice and eyesshowing nothing but frank pleasure at his words. "But, of course, Ihave always known that," which was not quite true, though it seemedtrue to her at the moment.
He could not tell what there was in this answer to hold him back, or ifit was the frankness of her eyes that daunted him, but he began to feelthat, so far from clasping her to his heart and satisfying his lipsupon her eyes, her hair, her mouth, he had no right even to be holdingher wrists as he was. He flung them from him, drew back a step, andsearched her face with a desperate look.
"And you--you do not love me at all!"
Barbara looked thoughtful, regretful.
"No, Robert, I don't _love_ you--not in the way you mean. I'm not inlove with you, you know. But I do care a lot for you, more than for_almost_ any one else!"
They had both forgotten--for it was weeks away--how Barbara had feltabout the imaginary unknown lady.
That "almost" was, to Robert, the end of all things. He thought atonce of Cary Patten. Pain and jealous madness struggled together inhis breast, strangling him.
"Good-bye!" he said at last, finding his voice, and turning to thedoor. "I shall leave to-night!"
"Robert!" cried Barbara, sharply. "Come back at once!"
He paused near the door, half turned, as if compelled by mere civility,but showed no sign of obeying.
"Come back to me!" she commanded. And he, being a courteous gentleman,obeyed.
"What is it, lady?"
"What on earth do you mean by being so crazy?" she demanded.
No answer occurred to him as necessary. He looked at her inquiringly,his face very white, his eyes deep sunken, his lips straight and hard.Barbara began to regret that she had not managed in some other way.She certainly could not let him go. Yet she certainly did not love himenough to give up her freedom for him,--to sacrifice all the enchantingexperience of which she had not yet begun to tire, to dismiss all theinteresting men, whose homage was so sweet to her young, unsatiatedvanity.
"Don't you know, Robert," she went on, beguilingly, "that I _couldn'tpossibly_ get along without you? I don't love you, but I do love youto love me, you know. I couldn't bear to have you go away and forgetme, and love some other woman,--some kind, sweet, beautiful woman whocould love you and make you happy. I need you to love me. Though Iknow there is no earthly reason why you should, and I think you are acrazy goose to do it, and I believe you only think you do, anyhow!"
Robert stood motionless. The storm raging up and down within himturned him to steel on the surface. From a dry throat he tried tospeak clearly and with moderation.
"You said--'almost!' Who is it--you care more for?--Cary Patten?"
Barbara broke into a clear peal of laughter, and clapped her hands witha fine assumption of glee.
"Oh, you silly, silly child!" she exclaimed. "It was Uncle Bob, ofcourse, that I was thinking of when I said that. I love Uncle Bobbetter than any one else in the world,--_far_ better than I love you,Robert, I can tell you that. But I care for you almost as much as forAunt Hitty. Cary Patten! Why, he and these other nice men who aremaking things so pleasant for me, they are just _new_ friends. I_like_ them, that's all. You are altogether different, you know. ButI'm just not in love with you,--and so you talk of going away andspoiling everything for me. I don't call that loving me, Robert,--notas _I_ would love a girl if I were a man. But it's not my fault if I'mnot in love myself, is it? I'm sorry,--but I don't believe I _can_love, really, the way you mean! Cary Patten, indeed! Why, he's just aboy,--a nice, good-looking, saucy, conceited boy!"
"Can't you try to love me, Barbara?" pleaded Robert, his wrath allgone. He flung himself down at her feet, and wildly kissed them
. Allthis she permitted smilingly, but the request seemed to her, as it was,a very foolish one.
"No, I can't!" she answered, with decision. "Trying wouldn't make me.And I don't think I want to, anyhow. I want to enjoy myself here whileI can. And I want you to be nice, and help me enjoy myself, and notbother me. Love me just as much as you like, Robert, but don't tell meso--too often! And don't ask me to love you. And _don't_ go and belovely to the other girls, and make believe you are not in love withme, for that would displease me very much, though I should know it wasmaking believe because you were cross at me. So, don't be horrid!"
This seemed to Robert a somewhat one-sided arrangement. He knew hewould accept it, yet his honesty compelled him to express his sense ofits injustice.
"I certainly would be lovely to the other girls if I wanted to, mylady," said he, doggedly. "The trouble is, I _don't_ want to. And Isha'n't bore myself just for the sake of trying to make you think Idon't care. I love you, that's all--better than anything else inheaven or earth. And I shall make you love me, my lady!"
This threat amused Barbara, but did not displease her.
"Very well, Robert," she answered, with a teasing, alluring look thatmade his heart jump. "I sha'n't try to prevent you. I'll even likeyou a little better now, at once, if you will go right away this minuteand let me dress."
"Dress for Cary Patten!" muttered Robert, kissing her hand withoutenthusiasm, and retiring with sombre brow. That he should go in thistemper did not please her ladyship at all.
"And, Robert!" she cried, when he had just reached the door.
"Yes, my lady!" and he came back once more.
"You said good-bye as if you were still in a nasty, black temper!" Sheheld out her hand to him again. This time he kissed it with what sheconsidered a more fitting warmth.
"And, Robert, don't forget that I am _very, very_ good to you, far moreso than you deserve. I don't think of telling Cary Patten, or any ofthe others, not to flirt with the other girls. Cary Patten may be aslovely to them as he likes, and I sha'n't mind one bit, so long as itdoes not interfere with his being as attentive as he ought to be to me!Now, it is a great honour I do you, Robert, in not letting you flirt."
"I appreciate it, my lady," he answered, permitting himself to smile."A great honour, indeed,--though a superfluous one!"
"I have no objection to that word, 'superfluous,' in that connection,"said Barbara, thoughtfully, to herself, as Robert disappeared.
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