"Beloved, beloved, I worship you. You are all I can dream of womanhood. You are all of life, all of love, all of wonder and beauty that the world can show. There is nothing my soul can ever desire but you, you, you, wonderful one!" And he tried to take her hands from under her wet face.
Through her sobs, Barbara had listened eagerly for one word that might show a yielding. But there was no such word,—no sign that he even realised that she had been offering her love as the incalculable price that should purchase him to the service of his country. This infinitely precious price,—he spurned it, then! Angry mortification surged over her, mixed with a pain that clutched at her heart. The humiliation of it—and the loss! She sat up suddenly.
"Go, go, go!" she cried, pointing to the door. "I don't want to ever see you again. I hate you. I hate you. Go—at once!"
And then, as Robert made no move, and strove to plead once more, she sprang to her feet, darted from the room, and fled up-stairs. He heard her door close sharply,—like the cutting off of life, it seemed to him. And he went away, walking rather blindly, and fumbling for some moments at the hall door before he could find the latch. That same evening he left New York.
It was hours before Barbara was herself again, so Glenowen had to dine alone. Late in the afternoon, after having bathed her face back to presentability, she dressed to go out for a sharp walk. When her toilet was almost complete, word came up that Cary Patten was in the drawing-room.
Now it was at least six weeks since Cary had last attempted to make love to her, and in the meantime he had been altogether charming,—attentive, deferential, full of enthusiastic ambition, and vastly interesting in his large forecasts of what the thirteen colonies would do with independence when they got it. Barbara, therefore, had practically forgotten that he was ever in disgrace, and was unwilling to refuse him admittance, little though it suited her mood to see him. She went down at once and received him cordially.
Cary was in a mood of triumphant excitement, dashed with romantic melancholy. He looked even straighter, taller, more broad-shouldered and high-mettled than usual. His goldy-brown short hair had a crisper curl, his candid blue eyes sparkled with joy and importance.
"Oh, I know! You needn't tell me!" cried Barbara, with hearty sympathy. "Only one thing in the world could make your face shine as it does now, Cary! You are ordered to the front!"
"You've guessed it, sweet mistress!" he cried, in a voice whose boyish exultation would not be kept down. "My company is one of those chosen by the Committee of Safety to go north. We march to-morrow! In a few days we will be in the field—we shall be in the thick of it!"
"Oh, you are so fortunate, Cary!" responded Barbara. "Think what it must be to be just a woman, and have to stay at home gnawing one's heart, while others have the glorious joy of fighting for freedom!"