Amelia E. Barr - The Bow of Orange Ribbon

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They stepped into the boat, and Hyde said, "Oars." Not a word was
spoken. He held her within his left arm, close to his side, and
partially covered with his military cloak. It was the boat belonging to
the commander of "The Dauntless," and the six sailors manning it sent
the light craft flying like an arrow down the bay. All the past was
behind her. She had done what was irrevocable. For joy or for sorrow,
her place was evermore at her husband's side. Richard understood the
decision she was coming to; knew that every doubt and fear had vanished
when her hand stole into his hand, when she slightly lifted her face,
and whispered, "Richard."

They were practically alone upon the misty river; and Richard answered
the tender call with sweet, impassioned kisses; with low, lover-like,
encouraging words; with a silence that thrilled with such soft beat and
subsidence of the spirit's wing, as--

"When it feels, in cloud-girt wayfaring,
The breath of kindred plumes against its feet."

[Illustration: Tail-piece]

[Illustration: Chapter heading]

X.

"_Good people, how they wrangle!
The manners that they never mend,
The characters they mangle!
They eat and drink, and scheme and plod,
And go to church on Sunday;
And many are afraid of God,
And some of Mrs. Grundy_."

During that same hour Joris was in the town council. There had been a
stormy and prolonged session on the Quartering Act. "To little purpose
have we compelled the revocation of the Stamp Act," he cried, "if the
Quartering Act upon us is to be forced. We want not English soldiers
here. In our homes why should we quarter them?"

All the way home he was asking himself the question; and, when he found
Dominie Van Linden talking to Lysbet, he gladly discussed it over again
with him. Lysbet sat beside them, knitting and listening. Until after
nine o'clock Joris did not notice the absence of his daughter. "She
went to Joanna's," said Lysbet calmly. No fear had yet entered her
heart. Perhaps she had a vague suspicion that Katherine might also go to
Mrs. Gordon's, and she was inclined to avoid any notice of the lateness
of the hour. If it were even ten o'clock when she returned, Lysbet
intended to make no remarks. But ten o'clock came, and the dominie went,
and Joris suddenly became anxious about Katherine.

His first anger fell upon Bram. "He ought to have been at home. Then he
could have gone for his sister. He is not attentive enough to Katherine;
and very fond is he of hanging about Miriam Cohen's doorstep."

"What say you, Joris, about Miriam Cohen?"

"I spoke in my temper."

He would not explain his words, and Lysbet would not worry him about
Katherine. "To Joanna's she went, and Batavius is in Boston. Very well,
then, she has stayed with her sister."

Still, in her own heart there was a certain uneasiness. Katherine had
never remained all night before without sending some message, or on a
previous understanding to that effect. But the absence of Batavius, and
the late hour at which she went, might account for the omission,
especially as Lysbet remembered that Joanna's servant had been sick, and
might be unfit to come. She was determined to excuse Katherine, and she
refused to acknowledge the dumb doubt and fear that crouched at her own
heart.

In the morning Joris rose very early and went into the garden. Generally
this service to nature calmed and cheered him; but he came to breakfast
from it, silent and cross. And Lysbet was still disinclined to open a
conversation about Katharine. She had enough to do to combat her own
feeling on the subject; and she was sensible that Joris, in the absence
of any definite object for his anger, blamed her for permitting
Katherine so much liberty.

"Where, then, is Bram?" he asked testily. "When I was a young man, it
was the garden or the store for me before this hour. Too much you
indulge the children, Lysbet."

"Bram was late to bed. He was on the watch last night at the pole. You
know, Councillor, who in that kind of business has encouraged him."

"Every night the watch is not for him."

"Oh, then, but the bad habit is made!"

"Well, well; tell him to Joanna's to go the first thing, and to send
home Katherine. I like her not in the house of Batavius."

"Joanna is her sister, Joris."

"Joanna is nothing at all in this world but the wife of Batavius. Send
for Katherine home. I like her best to be with her mother."

As he spoke, Bram came to the table, looking a little heavy and sleepy.
Joris rose without more words, and in a few moments the door shut
sharply behind him. "What is the matter with my father?"

"Cross he is." By this time Lysbet was also cross; and she continued,
"No wonder at it. Katherine has stayed at Joanna's all night, and late
to breakfast were you. Yet ever since you were a little boy, you have
heard your father say one thing, 'Late to breakfast, hurried at dinner,
behind at supper;' and I also have noticed, that, when the comfort of
the breakfast is spoiled, then all the day its bad influence is felt."

In the meantime Joris reached his store in that mood which apprehends
trouble, and finds out annoyances that under other circumstances would
not have any attention. The store was in its normal condition, but he
was angry at the want of order in it. The mail was no later than usual,
but he complained of its delay. He was threatening a general reform in
everything and everybody, when a man came to the door, and looked up at
the name above it.

"Joris Van Heemskirk is the name, sir;" and Joris went forward, and
asked a little curtly, "What, then, can I do for you?"

"I am Martin Hudde the fisherman."

"Well, then?"

"If you are Joris Van Heemskirk, I have a letter for you. I got it from
'The Dauntless' last night, when I was fishing in the bay."

Without a word Joris took the letter, turned into his office, and shut
the door; and Hudde muttered as he left, "I am glad that I got a crown
with it, for here I have not got a 'thank you.'"

It was Katherine's writing; and Joris held the folded paper in his hand,
and looked stupidly at it. The truth was forcing itself into his mind,
and the slow-coming conviction was a real physical agony to him. He put
his hand on the desk to steady himself; and Nature, in great drops of
sweat, made an effort to relieve the oppression and stupor which
followed the blow. In a few minutes he opened and laid it before him.
Through a mist he made out these words:

MY FATHER AND MY MOTHER: I have gone with my husband. I married Richard
when he was ill, and to-night he came for me. When I left home, I knew
not I was to go. Only five minutes I had. In God's name, this is the
truth. Always, at the end of the world, I shall love you. Forgive me,
forgive me, _mijn fader, mijn moeder_.
Your child,
KATHERINE HYDE.

He tore the letter into fragments; but the next moment he picked them
up, folded them in a piece of paper, and put them in his pocket. Then he
went to Mrs. Gordon's. She had anticipated the visit, and was, in a
measure, prepared for it. With a smile and outstretched hands, she rose
from her chocolate to meet him. "You see, I am a terrible sluggard,
Councillor," she laughed; "but the colonel left early for Boston this
morning, and I cried myself into another sleep. And will you have a cup
of chocolate? I am sure you are too polite to refuse me."

"Madam, I came not on courtesy, but for my daughter. Where is my
Katherine?"

"Truth, sir, I believe her to be where every woman wishes,--with her
husband. I am sure I wish the colonel was with me."

"Her husband! Who, then?"

"Indeed, Councillor, that is a question easily answered,--my nephew,
Captain Hyde, at your service. You perceive, sir, we are now
connections; and I assure you I have the highest sense imaginable of the
honour."

"When were they married?"

"In faith, I have forgotten the precise date. It was in last October; I
know it was, because I had just received my winter manteau,--my blue
velvet one, with the fur bands.'

"Who married them?"

[Illustration: "Madam, I come not on courtesy"]

"Oh, indeed! It was the governor's chaplain,--the Rev. Mr. Somers, a
relative of my Lord Somers, a most estimable and respectable person, I
assure you. Colonel Gordon, and Captain Earle, and myself, were the
witnesses. The governor gave the license; and, in consideration of
Dick's health, the ceremony was performed in his room. All was perfectly
correct and regular, I"--

"It is not the truth. Pardon, madam; full of trouble am I. And it was
all irregular, and very wicked, and very cruel. If regular and right it
had been, then in secret it had not taken place."

"Admit, Councillor, that then it had not taken place at all; or, at
least, Richard would have had to wait until Katherine was of age."

"So; and that would have been right. Until then, if love had lasted, I
would have said, 'Their love is stronger than my dislike;' and I would
have been content."

"Ah, sir, there was more to the question than that! My nephew's chances
for life were very indifferent, and he desired to shield Katherine's
name with his own"--

"_Christus!_ What say you, madam? Had Katherine no father?"

"Oh, be not so warm, Councillor! A husband's name is a far bigger shield
than a father's. I assure you that the world forgives a married woman
what it would not forgive an angel. And I must tell you, also, that
Dick's very life depended on the contentment which he felt in his
success. It is the part of humanity to consider that."

"Twice over deceived I have been then"--

"In short, sir, there was no help for it. Dick received a most
unexpected favour of a year's furlough two days ago. It was important
for his wounded lung that he should go at once to a warm climate. 'The
Dauntless' was on the point of sailing for the West Indies. To have
bestowed our confidence on you, would have delayed or detained our
patient, or sent him away without his wife. It was my fault that
Katherine had only five minutes given her. Oh, sir, I know my own sex!
And, if you will take time to reflect, I am sure that you will be
reasonable."

"Without his wife! His wife! Without my consent? No, she is not his
wife."

"Sir, you must excuse me if I do not honour your intelligence or your
courtesy. I have said '_she is his wife_.' It is past a doubt that they
are married."

"I know not, I know not--O my Katherine, my Katherine!"

"I pray you, sit down, Councillor. You look faint and ill; and in faith
I am very sorry that, to make two people happy, others must be made so
wretched." She rose and filled a glass with wine, and offered it to
Joris, who was the very image of mental suffering,--all the fine colour
gone out of his face, and his large blue eyes swimming in unshed tears.

"Drink, sir. Upon my word, you are vastly foolish to grieve so. I
protest to you that Katherine is happy; and grieving will not restore
your loss."

"For that reason I grieve, madam. Nothing can give me back my child."

"Come, sir, every one has his calamity; and, upon my word, you are very
fortunate to have one no greater than the marriage of your daughter to
an agreeable man, of honourable profession and noble family."

"Five minutes only! How could the child think? To take her away thus was
cruel. Many things a woman needs when she journeys."

"Oh, indeed, Katharine was well considered! I myself packed a trunk for
her with every conceivable necessity, as well as gowns and manteaus of
the finest material and the most elegant fashion. If Dick had been
permitted, he would have robbed the Province for her. I assure you that
I had to lock my trunks to preserve a change of gowns for myself. When
the colonel returns, he will satisfy you that Katherine has done
tolerably well in her marriage with our nephew. And, indeed, I must beg
you to excuse me further. I have been in a hurry of affairs and emotions
for two days; and I am troubled with the vapours this morning, and feel
myself very indifferently."

Then Joris understood that he had been politely dismissed. But there was
no unkindness in the act. He glanced at the effusive little lady, and
saw that she was on the point of crying, and very likely in the first
pangs of a nervous headache; and, without further words, he left her.

The interview had given Joris very little comfort. At first, his great
terror had been that Katherine had fled without any religious sanction;
but no sooner was this fear dissipated, than he became conscious, in all
its force, of his own personal loss and sense of grievance. From Mrs.
Gordon's lodgings he went to those of Dominie Van Linden. He felt sure
of his personal sympathy; and he knew that the dominie would be the best
person to investigate the circumstances of the marriage, and
authenticate their propriety.

Then Joris went home. On his road he met Bram, full of the first terror
of his sister's disappearance. He told him all that was necessary, and
sent him back to the store. "And see you keep a modest face, and make no
great matter of it," he said. "Be not troubled nor elated. It belongs to
you to be very prudent; for your sister's good name is in your care, and
this is a sorrow outsiders may not meddle with. Also, at once go back to
Joanna's, and tell her the same thing. I will not have Katherine made a
wonder to gaping women."

Lysbet was still a little on the defensive; but, when she saw Joris
coming home, her heart turned sick with fear. She was beating eggs for
her cake-making, and she went on with the occupation; merely looking up
to say, "Thee, Joris; dinner will not be ready for two hours! Art thou
sick?"

"Katherine--she has gone!"

"Gone? And where, then?"

"With that Englishman; in 'The Dauntless' they have gone."

"Believe it not. 'The Dauntless' left yesterday morning: Katherine at
seven o'clock last night was with me."

"Ah, he must have returned for her! Well he knew that if he did not
steal her away, I had taken her from him. Yes, and I feared him. When I
heard that 'The Dauntless' was to take him to the West Indies, I watched
the ship. After I kissed Katherine yesterday morning, I went straight to
the pier, and waited until she was on her way." Then he told her all
Mrs. Gordon had said, and showed her the fragments of Katherine's
letter. The mother kissed them, and put them in her bosom; and, as she
did so, she said softly, "it was a great strait, Joris."

"Well, well, we also must pass through it. The Dominie Van Linden has
gone to examine the records; and then, if she his lawful wife be, in the
newspapers I must advertise the marriage. Much talk and many questions I
shall have to bear."

"'If,' 'if she his lawful wife be!' Say not 'if' in my hearing; say not
'if' of my Katherine."

"When a girl runs away from her home"--

"With her husband she went; keep that in mind when people speak to
thee."

"What kind of a husband will he be to her?"

"Well, then, I think not bad of him. Nearer home there are worse men.
Now, if sensible thou be, thou wilt make the best of what is beyond thy
power. Every bird its own nest builds in its own way. Nay, but blind
birds are we all, and God builds for us. This marriage of God's ordering
may be, though not of thy ordering; and against it I would no longer
fight. I think my Katherine is happy; and happy with her I will be,
though the child in her joy I see not."

"So much talk as there will be. In the store and the streets, a man must
listen. And some with me will condole, and some with congratulations
will come; and both to me will be vinegar and gall."

"To all--friends and unfriends--say this: 'Every one chooses for
themselves. Captain Hyde loved my daughter, and for her love nearly he
died; and my daughter loved him; and what has been from the creation,
will be.' Say also, 'Worse might have come; for he hath a good heart,
and in the army he is much loved, and of a very high family is he.'
Joris, let me see thee pluck up thy courage like a man. Better may come
of this than has come of things better looking. Much we thought of
Batavius"--

"On that subject wilt thou be quiet?"

"And, if at poor little Katherine thou be angry, speak out thy mind to
me; to others, say nothing but well of the dear one. Now, then, I will
get thee thy dinner; for in sorrow a good meal is a good medicine."

[Illustration: "O mother, my sister Katherine!"]

While they were eating this early dinner, Joanna came in, sad and
tearful; and with loud lamentings she threw herself upon her mother's
shoulder. "What, then, is the matter with thee?" asked Lysbet, with
great composure.

"O mother, my Katherine! my sister Katherine!"

"I thought perhaps thou had bad news of Batavius. Thy sister Katherine
hath married a very fine gentleman, and she is happy. For thou must
remember that all the good men do not come from Dordrecht."

"I am glad that so you take it. I thought in very great sorrow you would
be."

"See that you do not say such words to any one, Joanna. Very angry will
I be if I hear them. Batavius, also; he must be quiet on this matter."

"Oh, then, Batavius has many things of greater moment to think about! Of
Katherine he never approved; and the talk there will be he will not like
it. Before from Boston he comes back, I shall be glad to have it over."

"None of his affair it is," said Joris. "Of my own house and my own
daughter, I can take the care. And if he like the talk, or if he like
not the talk, there it will be. Who will stop talking because Batavius
comes home?"

When Joris spoke in this tone on any subject, no one wished to continue
it: and it was not until her father had left the house, that Joanna
asked her mother particularly about Katherine's marriage. "Was she sure
of it? Had they proofs? Would it be legal? More than a dozen people
stopped me as I came over here," she said, "and asked me about
everything."

"I know not how more than a dozen people knew of anything, Joanna. But
many ill-natured words will be spoken, doubtless. Even Janet Semple came
here yesterday, thinking over Katherine to exult a little. But Katherine
is a great deal beyond her to-day. And perhaps a countess she may yet
be. That is what her husband said to thy father."

"I knew not that he spoke to my father about Katherine."

"Thou knows not all things. Before thou wert married to Batavius, before
Neil Semple nearly murdered him, he asked of thy father her hand. Thou
wast born on thy wedding day, I think. All things that happened before
it have from thy memory passed away."

"Well, I am a good wife, I know that. That also is what Batavius says.
Just before I got to the gate, I met Madam Semple and Gertrude Van
Gaasbeeck; they had been shopping together."

"Did they speak of Katherine?"

"Indeed they did."

"Or did you speak first, Joanna? It is an evil bird that pulls to pieces
its own nest."

"O mother, scolded I cannot be for Katherine's folly! My Batavius always
said, 'The favourite is Katherine.' Always he thought that of me too
much was expected. And Madam Semple said--and always she liked
Katherine--that very badly had she behaved for a whole year, and that
the end was what everybody had looked for. It is on me very hard,--I who
have always been modest, and taken care of my good name. Nobody in the
whole city will have one kind word to say for Katherine. You will see
that it is so, mother."

"You will see something very different, Joanna. Many will praise
Katherine, for she to herself has done well. And, when back she comes,
at the governor's she will visit, and with all the great ladies; and not
one among them will be so lovely as Katherine Hyde."

And, if Joanna had been in Madam Semple's parlour a few hours later, she
would have had a most decided illustration of Lysbet's faith in the
popular verdict. Madam was sitting at her tea-table talking to the
elder, who had brought home with him the full supplement to Joanna's
story. Both were really sorry for their old friends, although there is
something in the best kind of human nature that indorses the punishment
of those things in which old friends differ from us.

Neil had heard nothing. He had been shut up in his office all day over
an important suit; and, when he took the street again, he was weary, and
far from being inclined to join any acquaintances in conversation. In
fact, the absorbing topic was one which no one cared to introduce in
Neil's presence; and he himself was too full of professional matters to
notice that he attracted more than usual attention from the young men
standing around the store-doors, and the officers lounging in front of
the 'King's Arms' tavern.

He was irritable, too, with exhaustion, though he was doing his best to
keep himself in control and when madam his mother said pointedly, "I'm
fearing, Neil, that the bad news has made you ill; you arena at a' like
yoursel'," he asked without much interest, "What bad news?"

"The news anent Katherine Van Heemskirk."

He had supposed it was some political disappointment, and at Katherine's
name his pale face grew suddenly crimson.

"What of her?" he asked.

"Didna you hear? She ran awa' last night wi' Captain Hyde; stole awa'
wi' him on 'The Dauntless.'"

"She would have the right to go with him, I have no doubt," said Neil
with guarded calmness.

"Do you really think she was his wife?"

"If she went with him, _I am sure she was_." He dropped the words with
an emphatic precision, and looked with gloomy eyes out of the window;
gloomy, but steadfast, as if he were trying to face a future in which
there was no hope. His mother did not observe him. She went on prattling
as she filled the elder's cup, "If there had been any wedding worth the
name o' the thing, we would hae been bidden to it. I dinna believe she
is married."

"Are you sure that she sailed with Captain Hyde in 'The Dauntless,' or
is it a pack of women's tales?"

"The news cam' wi' your fayther the elder," answered madam, much
offended. "You can mak' your inquiries there if you think he's mair
reliable than I am."

Neil looked at his father, and the elder said quietly, "I wouldna be
positive anent any woman; the bad are whiles good, and the good are
whiles bad. But there is nae doubt that Katherine has gone with Hyde;
and I heard that the military at the 'King's Arms' have been drinking
bumpers to Captain Hyde and his bride; and I know that Mrs. Gordon has
said they were married lang syne, when Hyde couldna raise himsel' or put
a foot to the ground. But Joanna told your mother _she_ had neither seen
nor heard tell o' book, ring, or minister; and, as I say, for mysel'
I'll no venture a positive opinion, but I _think_ the lassie is married
to the man she's off an' awa' wi'."

"But if she isna?" persisted madam.

In a moment Neil let slip the rein in which he had been holding himself,
and in a slow, intense voice answered, "I shall make it my business to
find out. If Katherine is married, God bless her! If she is not, I will
follow Hyde though it were around the world until I cleave his coward's
heart in two." His passion grew stronger with its utterance. He pushed
away his chair, and put down his cup so indifferently that it missed the
table and fell with a crash to the floor.

[Illustration: "Oh, my cheeny, my cheeny!"]

"Oh, my cheeny, my cheeny! Oh, my bonnie cups that I hae used for forty
years, and no' a piece broken afore!"

"Ah, weel, Janet," said the elder, "you shouldna badger an angry man
when he's drinking from your best cups."

"I canna mend nor match it in the whole Province, Elder. Oh, my bonnie
cup."

"I was thinking, Janet, o' Katherine's good name. If it is gane, it is
neither to mend nor to match in the whole wide world. I'll awa' and see
Joris and Lysbet. And put every cross thought where you'll never find
them again, Janet; an tak' your good-will in your hands, and come wi'
me. Lysbet will want to see you."

"Not her, indeed! I can tell you, Elder, that Lysbet was vera cool and
queer wi' me yesterday."

"Come, Janet, dinna keep your good-nature in remnants. Let's hae enough
to make a cloak big enough to cover a' bygone faults."

"I think, then, I ought to stay wi' Neil."

"Neil doesna want anybody near him. Leave him alane. Neil's a' right.
Forty years syne I would hae broke my mother's cheeny, and drawn steel
as quick as Neil did, if I heard a word against bonnie Janet Gordon."
And the old man made his wife a bow; and madam blushed with pleasure,
and went upstairs to put on her bonnet and India shawl.

"Woman, woman," meditated the smiling elder; "she is never too angry to
be won wi' a mouthful o' sweet words, special if you add a bow or a kiss
to them. My certie! when a husband can get his ain way at sic a sma'
price, it's just wonderfu' he doesna buy it in perpetuity."

Joris was somewhat comforted by his old friend's sympathy; for the
elder, in the hour of trial, knew how to be magnanimous. But the
father's wound lay deeper than human love could reach. He was suffering
from what all suffer who are wounded in their affections; for alas,
alas, how poorly do we love even those whom we love most! We are not
only bruised by the limitations of their love for us, but also by the
limitations of our own love for them. And those who know what it is to
be strong enough to wrestle, and yet not strong enough to overcome, will
understand how the grief, the anger, the jealousy, the resentment, from
which he suffered, amazed Joris; he had not realized before the depth
and strength of his feelings.

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