Later in the day Sir John sent her a courteous message. He did not demand her presence amongst his guests, but he requested it. Her continued absence had been much remarked and questioned, and there were many reasons why these comments should be silenced. Barbara answered that she would comply with his wishes; and that afternoon found her in the midst of a party on the terrace, listening to Mrs. Dearmer's coa.r.s.e wit and endeavouring not to shudder at her laugh. It seemed quite evident that Sir John had not suggested to his guests that they should treat his niece in any special manner, and their conversation was less reticent than ever.

"You blush very easily," laughed Mrs. Dearmer, "but that pleases the men. I used to be the same, and devoutly wish I had not lost the art."

"Could you not regain it?" asked Barbara, and the question was followed by a burst of laughter, more at Mrs. Dearmer's expense than at her questioner's, perhaps.

"I'm afraid not. What we gain by experience must be lost in some other direction. It is merely a question which you prefer, the gain or the loss."

"My adorable madam, you go ill with mathematics," said one man, laughing. "Pray tell some tale that will again bring the colour to Mistress Lanison's cheek, for I vow she blushes most divinely."

"At least, sir, the cause can have little connection with heaven," said Barbara.

"Waste no words on him, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Dearmer. "He has been so long attached to the opposition that he has forgotten such a place as heaven exists. Tell me why you have deserted us lately. I held that it was indisposition, others declared it was temper, and others--can you guess what the others said?"

"Was it something very unkind?" asked Barbara.

She had walked away with Mrs. Dearmer and one or two others, amongst them a man named Heriot, to whom Barbara had hardly spoken, but whom she cordially disliked.

"They said you had a lover," said Mrs. Dearmer.

"It would have been kinder if they had given me a hundred, wouldn't it?

That would, indeed, have been to praise me mightily and declare me irresistible."

"You will not find women so generous as that," laughed Heriot. "I thought there was a more subtle meaning in the declaration. In a hundred lovers there might be safety, but in one--ah! it is the persistency of one which reduces the citadel."

"I know many who might persist until they were leaning over their grave, and then not succeed," said Barbara, "and the citadel would not need to be very strongly guarded either."

"That should hasten your retreat, Mr. Heriot," said Mrs. Dearmer, and then she drew Barbara a little farther away. "Tell me, are they right?

Is there a lover?"

"You may deny it if you are questioned," Barbara answered.

"I will. I would not betray such a secret for the world. Does he climb to your window when the terrace is empty and silent, or is there some secret door by which he comes and no one ever the wiser?"

"Is that what they say?" asked Barbara.

"Yes, and more," and Mrs. Dearmer put her finger to her lips to warn Barbara that others were close to them and might not keep her secret so faithfully as she would.

Barbara did not then understand all that was implied, but within a day or two she was conscious that her name was being flung from lip to lip with a laugh and a jest, that, no matter how innocent her words or her actions might be, an evil meaning was twisted out of them and applauded.

Even her uncle laughed and seemed to agree when Heriot declared that a woman who was shy in her love affairs was always the most dangerous, and suggested that Mrs. Dearmer must look to her laurels now that Mistress Lanison had taken the field against her. To deny the insinuations, or to resent them, was only to make these men and women coa.r.s.er, and increase the laughter and ribaldry, so Barbara decided to stay away again. This time, however, Sir John did not leave her alone. He sent a peremptory message demanding her presence.

"Tell Sir John I refuse to come, and if he would know my reason I will tell him here."

The servant hesitated.

"Sir John is out of temper, mistress. Would it not be better to--"

"You have my answer," said Barbara.

Many minutes had not elapsed before there were quick steps along the corridor, and Sir John burst into the room. The servant had spoken mildly when he said his master was out of temper, and Barbara's answer to his message had made him furious. He slammed the door and faced his niece.

"What is the meaning of this gross impertinence, girl? When I bid you do a thing you will do it; do you understand me? I have had more than enough of your vapours."

"And I, sir, more than enough of your guests."

"Do you dare to flout me?" he said with an oath.

"I dare anything when you forget what is my due from my guardian. For some purpose of your own you seem anxious to accuse me of being a rebel, and drag me into this ribald crew to have my ears a.s.sailed with all manner of indecencies, and to hear my own honour called in question."

"You're a fool, girl."

"Wise enough to determine that either Mrs. Dearmer and her companions must leave Aylingford, or I shall."

"Curse your impudence!" said Sir John, and before Barbara was aware of his intention, he had seized her wrist and commenced to drag her towards the door, "Curse your impudence! We will see who is master at Aylingford. I shall have what guests I choose, and, by heaven, you shall treat them as I demand! You may flout Lord Rosmore, but I will see to it that you obey me."

"You hurt my wrist, sir."

"If it brings you to reason, it is perhaps the easiest way for you," he retorted. "Guests that are good enough for me shall be good enough for you."

"And if they say I am a scheming light o' love, you, sir, will no doubt find means to prove that they are right."

"Gad! your own prudery is doing that. Perhaps I might not have to make much inquiry to find that they had seen far more than I have. Much might go on in these rooms and the rest of the Abbey be none the wiser."

Barbara's free hand was suddenly raised to strike him, but she let it fall to her side again. He held her wrist the tighter, and laughed in her face.

"It is well for you that your daring stops short of that," he sneered.

"Last night I heard words spoken out of the darkness," said Barbara.

"'It is a sacred trust,' said a voice; 'G.o.d requite you if you fail in it. When she is of age give her that which is hers. She is free.

Beware.'"

There was magic in the words. Sir John let go her wrist and started backwards with a curious, m.u.f.fled sound in his throat. His face was suddenly white with fear, and his trembling hands were linked together, straining at each other. Barbara did not move, and in her motionless att.i.tude and the fixed gaze in her eyes the man seemed to perceive an added terror.

"Who spoke them?" he stammered.

"A voice out of the darkness."

"They--they recall--what am I saying? Have your own way to-night; we shall both talk more calmly to-morrow."

"To-morrow cannot undo to-night, sir. I have decided to ask Lady Bolsover to let me visit her for a while. Two days ago I received a letter from her asking me to go to her again."

"I will see. We will talk of it to-morrow."

"There is naught to do, sir, but arrange for my journey to town."

It was almost as one suddenly stricken with a palsy that Sir John left the room and stumbled along the corridor. As he pa.s.sed a man drew hastily back into the shadows, and then went light-footedly to Barbara's door. She had already locked it. He knocked.

"I have nothing more to say," said Barbara.

The man chanted a little stave in a low voice, and the door flew open.