visitors: the friends and relatives of her husband's family, who called
upon her and talked with Barbara, often begged her to come to their
houses; among them were many who showed themselves kindly disposed and
could not help respecting her worth, but not one to whom she was
attracted by any warm affection. Maria, whose life was certainly not
crowded with amusements, dreaded their coming, and when they did call,
endured their presence as an unavoidable evil. The worthy matrons were
all much older than herself and, while sitting over their cakes, stewed
fruit, and hippocras, knitting, spinning or netting, talked of the hard
times during the siege, of the cares of children and servants, washing
and soap-making, or subjected to a rigid scrutiny the numerous
incomprehensible and reprehensible acts other women were said to have
committed, to be committing, or to desire to commit, until Maria's heart
grew heavy and her lonely room seemed to her a peaceful asylum.

She could find words only when the conversation turned upon the misery of
the country and the sacred duty of bearing every privation a second time,
if necessary for the freedom of the nation, and then she gladly listened
to the sturdy women, who evidently meant what they said; but when the
hours were filled with idle gossip, it caused her actual pain. Yet she
dared not avoid it and was obliged to wait until the departure of the
last acquaintance; for after she had ventured to retire early several
times, Barbara kindly warned her against it, not concealing that she had
had great difficulty in defending her against the reproach of pride and
incivility.

"Such chat," said the widow, "is pleasant and strengthens the courage,
and whoever leaves the visitors while they are together, can pray the
Lord for a favorable report."