Standish of Standish: A Story of the Pilgrims

by Jane G. Austin

  CHAPTER XXXVIII.

  BARBARA.

  "Wilt give me some breakfast, Priscilla?" asked a well-known voice, asMistress Alden bent to uncover her bake kettle, or Dutch oven, to see ifthe manchets of fine flour her husband liked so heartily were wellbrowned.

  "Lord-a-mercy!" cried she nearly dropping the cover and springing to herfeet. "What, 't is truly thee, Captain, and not thy spook? Why 't wasbut yester e'en Dame Bradford told me thou wert away with Master Bridgeson a fishing adventure, and none might guess the day of thy return."

  "She said so, did she?" replied the captain; "and who heard it besidethee, Priscilla?"

  "Why--now let me think--yea and verily, Christian Penn was in the roomand no doubt heard the sad tidings though she said naught."

  "And none beside, Mistress Alden?"

  "None--nay, now I think on 't, thy kinswoman Barbara was in presence.But there, my manchets will be burnt to crusts. Sit thee down, Captain,sit thee down."

  "And what said Mistress Standish anent my going?" asked Myles seatinghimself upon a three-legged stool and doffing his slouched hat.

  Priscilla looked at him with one of the keen glances which John declaredcounted the cockles of a man's heart. Then she smiled with an air ofsatisfaction and replied,--

  "Barbara said naught, and so told me much."

  "Told thee much? Come now, Priscilla, spare me thine old-time jibes andpuzzlements and show thyself true womanly, and mine own honest friend.I'm sore bestead, Priscilla--I have a quarrel with Myles Standish, and't is as big a fardel as my shoulders will bear. Tell me what Barbara'ssilence meant to thee?"

  "It meant that it was her doings that thou hadst gone, and that thygoing both angered and grieved her, Captain."

  "Angered, mayhap."

  "Yea, and grieved. She ate no supper, although I prayed her to taste anew confection of mine own invention."

  "Priscilla, dost think Master Allerton would be--would make a"--

  "Would be the right goodman for Barbara? No, and no again, I thinknaught of the kind."

  "Ah! You women are so quick upon the trigger, Priscilla. I would mysnaphance went to the aim as lightly and as surely as your or Barbara'sthought."

  "Come now, Captain, the manchets are done, and the fish is broiled, andthe porridge made. Wait but till I call the goodman and open a pottle ofmy summer beer; 't is dear Dame Brewster's diet-drink, with a thoughtmore flavor to it, and John says--ah, here thou art, thou big sluggard.We need no horn to call thee to thy meat."

  Entering the cottage with a grin upon his lips and the promise of a kissin his eyes, Alden started joyfully at sight of the Captain, and atPriscilla's impatient summons he bashfully took the head of the tableand asked the blessing upon his family and their daily bread, which wasthen the undisputed duty of every head of a household. The captain atewell, as Priscilla slyly noted; and as she rose from the table and beganrapidly to carry the few pewter and wooden dishes to the scullery Johnhad added to the two rooms and loft comprising the cottage, shemuttered,--

  "What fools we women be! When they care for us the most, a savory dishwill comfort them, and we must pule, and pine, and pale--ah!"

  For the captain had followed and stood at the housewife's elbow with aconfused and somewhat foolish smile upon his face.

  "Wilt do me a favour, Priscilla?"

  "Gladly, as thou knowest, sir."

  "Nay, sir me no sirs, Priscilla! Take me for thine own familiar friendas already I am Alden's."

  "'T is an ill-advised quotation, Captain, for the 'own familiar friend'of the Psalmist proved a false one. But ne'ertheless I'll wear the cap,and haply prove as true as another to my promise. What can I do forthee, Captain?"

  "Why--as thou dost seem to surmise, Priscilla, there is a questionbetween Barbara and me--truth to tell I gave her just matter of offense,and now I've thought better on 't and fain would tell her so, and yet Ifear me if I ask outright she'll not let me come to speech of her."

  "Ay, ay, good friend, I see," exclaimed Priscilla, holding up herslender shapely hand. "And here's the cat's-paw that's to pull thychestnuts from the fire!"

  "Nay Priscilla"--

  "Yea Captain! Put not thy wit to further distress, good friend, for itneeds not; I see all and more than all thou couldst tell me. Go thy wayto the Fort, and look over thy dear guns and wait until thou seest--whatthou wilt see."

  And with a little push the young matron thrust her guest out of the opendoor of the scullery, and hasted to finish her own labors.

  Almost an hour passed and the Captain of the Armies of New England haduncovered and examined and sighted and petted each gun in his armamentmore than once; had considered the range of the saker, the minion, thefalcon, and the bases; and had stood gazing blankly at the whitenedskull of Wituwamat above the gate of the Fort until the wrens who nestedthere began to fly restlessly in and out, fancying that the captainplanned an invasion of their territory. He still stood in this posturewhen the rustle of a footfall among the dried herbage reached his quickear, and turning he confronted Barbara, whose down-dropt eyes hid thegleam of amusement the sight of his melancholy attitude had kindled intheir depths.

  "Priscilla says that you have returned home from the fishing because youwere but poorly, cousin, and she would have me come and ask if you caredto speak with the chirurgeon who is going afield presently."

  "So chill, so frozen, Barbara? Is 't so a kinswoman should speak withone ill at ease both in mind and body?"

  "I came but as a messenger, sir, and venture not to presume upon anyclaim of kindred to one who joins the blood of Percivale to that ofStandish."

  "Nay now, nay now, Barbara!--Here, come to the shaded side of the Fort,and sit you down where we two sat"--

  "We two sat on the bench without your door the last parley that we had,good cousin."

  "'Gentle tongues aye give the sharpest wounds,' and it is thou whoprovest the proverb true, Barbara."

  "Nay, I'll sit me down and listen with all meekness to what thou hast tosay, Captain Standish."

  "Thanks for even so much courtesy, Barbara, for I have sought thee tosay that I deserve none at thy hands. I, to whose protection andcomforting thou hast come across the sea, have treated thee as nobase-born churl hath warrant for treating the meanest of woman-kind. I,to pride myself upon gentle blood and knightly training, and then throwinsult and taunt upon a woman's unshielded head! Nay, Barbara, had anyman three days agone forecast my doing such a thing, I had hurled thelie in his teeth, and haply crammed it down with Gideon's hilt. Nay--thegood sword may well be ashamed of his master; well may I look for him toshiver in my grasp when next I draw him"--

  "Myles! Myles, I'll hear no more! Nay then, not a word, or I shall holdit proven that my wish is naught to thee, for all thy contrite sayings.I fear me Priscilla is right, and thou 'rt truly ill. This hot sun hathtouched thy head with some such distemper as sped poor Master Carver.Sit thee down here beside me, and I'll fetch cool water from the springto bathe thy temples."

  "It needs not, cousin. My distemper is of the mind, the heart; nay, itis wounded honor, lass, and there's no ill of body can sting a man soshrewdly as that. Say that I have thy pardon, Barbara, if thou canst sayit in truth, and 't will be better than any med'cine in Fuller'schest."

  "Why, certes, Myles, thou hast my forgiveness and over and over for anyrough word thou mayst have said, and in sober sadness I mind not whatthey were, for all my thought hath been of my unkindness to thee. Myles,I never told thee, but when thy mother lay a-dying, and thou far away,fighting the Spaniards in Holland, she bade me care for thee even as shewould have done, and fill a sister's place--and more, and I laid my handin hers and promised sacredly, and so she rested content."

  "And why didst never tell me this before, cousin?"

  "I know not--nay, but that's not all out true, and I'll tell thee nolies, Myles. When next thou camest to our poor home at Man, thou didstsee Rose, and from the first I knew well enow that there'd be no need ofsister-care for one who found so sweet a wi
fe."

  "Ay, she was sweet,--sweet as her pretty name. Dost know, Barbara, whenthese bushes burgeon in early summer with their soft and fragrant bloomit ever minds me of that sweet and fragile Rose that lies beneath."

  But Barbara was silent.

  "Ah well, ah well, 't is a brief chapter strangely at odds with the rudelife wherein it found itself, and now 't is closed, and better so forher. She could not have bloomed among these dreary sands and savagewoods; it was not fitting."

  He paced a few steps back and forward, and Barbara rose, her clear eyesfull of a woman's noble and patient strength.

  "And so, Myles, we are at peace again, and I at least will make it myendeavor that there shall be no such breach of charity in the future.'"

  "Nay, Barbara, stay a little, I pray thee. I have somewhat to say, forwhich in advance I must ask thy patience and indulgence. Thou 'lt not beangered at me so soon again, Barbara?"

  "Nay, I'll not be angered, cousin." But Barbara's voice was very sad.

  "'T is this, and I thought of it all last night as we flitted in themoonlight across the bay, and what thou sayest of my mother's charge tothee fits my thought like hand and glove. Why should not we two wed,Barbara?"

  He turned and looked at her, and stood amazed to see how the steadfastcalm of her face broke up in a tempest of indignation, of grief, ofoutraged womanhood.

  "Why, Barbara! Why, cousin! What is it, what have I said? What ailsthee, dear? What works upon thee so cruelly?"

  "That any man should dare fancy it of me--there, there, let be, let mepass, let me go!"

  "Nay, then, I'll not let thee go. I'm but a rude bungler in thesewomen-ways, and I've said or done somewhat that wounds thee sorely, andI'll not let thee go till 't is all outsaid and I have once more clearedmyself of at least willful offense toward thee."

  "Wilt keep me by force, sir?"

  "Ay maid I will, for 't is only in bodily strength that I'm thy match,and so for the moment I will e'en use it. Sit thee here now and listenyet again, as I say, Why may not we two wed, cousin Barbara? Thou 'rtnot mine own cousin, thou knowest, child; 't was thy father and minewere in that bond; and--now bear with me, Barbara--I've a shrewdsuspicion that my mother bade thee be not a sister but a wife to me.Truth now, did she not, maid?"

  "She could not guide either my love or thine, so why would she try?"

  "Nay, that's no answer, lass, but we'll let the question go. There's nota woman alive, Barbara, so dear to me as thou; there's none I hold ingreater reverence or trust; there's none with whom I would so gladlylive out my days, and--though now I risk thy scorn,--there's none whoselineage I so respect"--

  "What, the Henley lineage?" murmured Barbara, with face averted to hidea smile.

  "Nay, thou 'rt all Standish, Barbara! Thou 'rt more Standish than I, forthou hast the eyes of those old portraits my poor father vainly tried towrest from his cousin Alexander. Let me look at those eyes, Barbara!"

  "And so because it suits thy convenience to make me thy wife, thou takstno heed of mine own fancies," said Barbara, not heeding this request."And I pray thee unhand me, for I promise to patiently abide till thouhast said thy say."

  "Now there again thou dost me wrong, lass, for as I told thee t' otherday there's no bachelor here fit to wed with thee, there's none I'd givethee to, nor would I see thee wither away unwed."

  "Gramercy cousin, but methinks that is a question I well might settlefor myself."

  "Why nay, sith there is no gentleman unwed among our company, saveAllerton, whom I love as little as thou dost."

  "I care not for any"--

  "I know it, Barbara, I know it well. Thou 'rt that rare marvel, a womansufficing unto herself, for as I believe, thou hast never fancied anyman, though more than one hath fancied thee."

  "'T is my cold heart," murmured Barbara with a little smile strangled inits birth.

  "Nay," replied her cousin thoughtfully as he pulled at his moustache andgazed upon the ground at his feet. "Nay, I call thee not so muchheartless as fancy-free. Thou 'rt kind and gentle, ay, and loving as mydear mother knew. I'm well content with thy heart for such as it is,Barbara, if thou 'lt but give it me."

  "Nay, Myles, I'm deadly sure I've none to give, and out of nothingnothing comes."

  "Thou ne'er canst love me, Barbara?"

  "No more than I love thee now, Myles."

  "With calm cousin-love thou meanest?"

  "I am ill skilled at logic, Myles. I cannot set out my feelings in classand order, as our chirurgeon doth his herbs and flowers."

  "Well, Barbara, I'm grieved that thou lookest upon me so coldly, but Idraw not back from my petition. I'd liefer have thy calm tenderness thananother's hot love, for I can trust thee as I trust mine own honor, andI know full well that thou 'lt ever be better than thy word. So take me,Barbara, for thy husband, and fulfill the dear mother's last desire, andgive me the hope of teaching thee in the days to come to love me even asI love thee."

  But for all answer Barbara only turned and laid her hands in his, andslowly raised the wonder of her eyes until they looked straight intohis; and the man whose front had never quailed in face of death ordanger grew pallid beneath his bronze, and trembled like a leaf in thewind.

  "What!--Barbara!--Dost really love me, maid? Nay, cheat me not--speak!Dost love me, sweetheart, already?"

  But Barbara said never a word, nor did Myles ever know more of thesecret of her life than in that one supreme moment he read in hersteadfast eyes.