Amelia E. Barr - The Bow of Orange Ribbon

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"Yes, indeed," said Lady Capel; "though Dick was entirely out of the
secret of the match, my son Will and I had agreed upon it. I don't know
what Will thinks of a younger son like Dick choosing for himself."

Then Arabella made Hyde a pretty, mocking courtesy, and he could not
help looking with some interest at the woman who might have been his
wife. The best of men, and the best of husbands, are liable to speculate
a little under such circumstances, and in fancy to put themselves into a
position they have probably no wish in reality to fill. She noticed his
air of consideration; and, with a toss of her handsome head, she spread
out all her finery. "You see," she said, "I am dressed so as to make a
tearing show." She wore a white poudesoy gown, embroidered with gold,
and the prettiest high-heeled satin slippers, and a head-dress of
wonderful workmanship. "For I have been at a concert of music, cousin
Dick, and heard two overtures of Mr. Handel's and a sonata by Corella,
done by the very best hands."

[Illustration: She spread out all her finery]

"And, pray, whom did you see there, my dear? and what were they talking
about?"

"Of all people, grandmother, I saw Lady Susan Rye and the rest of her
sort; and they talked of nothing else but the coming mask at Ranelagh's.
Cousin, I bespeak you for my service. I am going as a gypsy, for it will
give me the opportunity of telling the truth. In my own character, I
rarely do it: nothing is so impolite. But I have a prodigious regard for
truth; and at a mask I give myself the pleasure of saying all the
disagreeable things that I owe to my acquaintances."

Katherine was almost ignored; and Hyde did not feel any desire to bring
even her name into such a mocking, jeering, perfectly heartless
conversation. He was content to laugh, and let the hour go past in such
flim-flams of criticism and persiflage. He remembered when he had been
one of the units in such a life, and he wondered if it were possible
that he could ever drift back into it. For even as he sat there, with
the memory of his wife and child in his heart, he felt the light charm
of Lady Arabella's claim upon him, and all the fascination of that gay,
thoughtless animal life which appeals so strongly to the selfish
instincts and appetites of youth.

He had a plate of roast hare and a goblet of wine, and the ladies had
chocolate and rout cakes; and he ate and drank, and laughed, and enjoyed
their bright, ill-natured pleasantry, as men enjoy such piquant morsels.
Thus a couple of hours passed; and then it became evident, from the
pawing and snorting outside, that Mephisto's patience was quite
exhausted. Hyde went to the window, and looked into the square. His
orderly was vainly endeavoring to soothe the restless animal; and he
said, "Mephisto will take no excuse, cousin, and I find myself obliged
to leave you." But he went away in an excitement of hope and gay
anticipations; and, with a sharp rebuke to the unruly animal, he vaulted
into the saddle with soldierly grace and rapidity. A momentary glance
upward showed him Lady Capel and Lady Suffolk at the window, watching
him; the withered old woman in her soiled wrappings, the youthful beauty
in all the bravery of her white and gold poudesoy. In spite of
Mephisto's opposition, he made them a salute; and then, in a clamour of
clattering hoofs, he dashed through the square.

"That is the man you ought to have married Arabella," said Lady Capel,
as she watched the young face at her side, which had suddenly become
pensive and dreamy: "you would have been a couple for the world to look
at."

"Oh, indeed, you are mistaken, grandmother! Sir Thomas is an admirable
husband--blind and deaf to all I do, as a good husband ought to be. And
as for Dick, look at him--bowing and smiling, and ready to do me any
service, while the girl he nearly died for is quite forgotten."

"Upon my word, you wrong Dick. His love for that woman is beyond
everything. I wish it wasn't. What right had she to come into our
family, and spoil plans and projects made before she was born. I should
clearly love to play her her own card back. And I must say, Arabella,
that you seem to care very little about your own wrongs."

"Oh, I am by no means certified that the woman has wronged me! I don't
think I should have loved Dick, in any case."

"_Ha!_" Lady Capel looked in her granddaughter's musing face, and then,
with a chuckle, hobbled to the bell and rang for her maid. "You are very
prudent, child, but I am not one that any woman can deceive. I know all
the tricks of the sex. Oh, heavens! what a grand thing to be two and
twenty, with a kind husband to manage, and lovers bowing and begging at
your shoe-ties! Well, well, I had my day; and, thank the fools, I did
some mischief in it! Yes, there were eight duels fought for me; and
while Somers and Scrope were wetting their swords in the quarrel, I was
dancing with Jack Capel. Jack told me that night he would make me marry
him; and when I slapped his cheek with my fan, he took my hands in a
rage, and swore I should do it that hour. And, faith, he mastered me!
Your grandfather Capel had a dreadful temper, Arabella."

"I have heard that Cousin Dick Hyde has a temper too."

"Dick is vain; and you can make a vain man stand on his head, or go down
on his knees, if you only vow that he performs the antics better than
any other human creature. The town will fling itself at Dick Hyde's
feet, and Dick will fling himself at yours. Mind what I say; my
prophecies always come true, Arabella, for I never expect sinners to be
saints, my dear."

And during the next six months Lady Capel found plenty of opportunities
for complimenting herself upon her own penetration. Society made an idol
of Capt. Hyde; and if he was not at Lady Arabella's feet, he was
certainly very constantly at her side. As to his marriage, it was a
topic of constant doubt and dispute. The clubs betted on the subject. In
the ball-rooms and the concert-rooms, the ladies positively denied it;
and Lady Arabella's smile and shrug were of all opinions the most
unsatisfactory and bewildering. Some, indeed, admitted the marriage, but
averred, with a meaning emphasis, that madam was on the proper side of
the Atlantic. Others were certain that Hyde had brought his wife to
England, but felt himself obliged, on account of her great beauty, to
keep her away from the conquering heroes of London society. It was a
significant index to Hyde's real character, that not one of his
associates ever dared to be familiar enough to ask him for the truth on
a question so delicately personal.

"Hyde is exactly the man to invite me to meet him in Marylebone Fields
for the answer," said a young officer, who had been urged to make
inquiries because he was on familiar terms with his comrade. "If it
comes to a matter of catechism, gentlemen, I'll bet ten to one that none
of you ask him two consecutive questions regarding the American lady."

And perhaps many husbands may be able to understand a fact which to the
general world seems beyond satisfactory explanation. Hyde loved his
wife, loved her tenderly and constantly; he felt himself to be a better
man whenever he thought of her and his little son, and he thought of
them very frequently; and yet his eyes, his actions, the tones of his
voice, daily led his cousin, Lady Suffolk, to imagine herself the
empress of his heart and life. Nor was it to her alone that he permitted
this affectation of love. He found beauty, wherever he met it,
provocative of the same apparent devotion. There were a dozen men in his
own circle who hated him with all the sincerity that jealousy gives to
dislike and envy; there were a score of women who believed themselves to
have private tokens of Hyde's special admiration for them.

Unfortunately, his military duties were only on very rare occasions any
restraint to him. His days were mainly spent in dangling after Lady
Suffolk and other fair dames. It was auctions at Christie's, and morning
concerts, and afternoon rides and plays, and dinners and balls and
masks at Ranelagh's. It was sails down the river to Richmond, and trips
to Sadler's Wells, and one perpetual round of flirting and folly, of
dressing and dancing and dining and gaming.

[Illustration: All kinds of frivolity and amusement]

And it must be remembered that the English women of that day were such
as England may well hope never to see again. They had little education:
many very great ladies could hardly read and spell properly. Their sole
accomplishments were dressing and embroidery; the ability to make a few
delicate dishes for the table, and scents and pomade for the toilet. In
the higher classes they married for money or position, and gave
themselves up to intrigue. They drank deeply; they played high; they
very seldom went to church, for Sunday was the fashionable day for all
kinds of frivolity and amusement. And as the men of any generation are
just what the women make them, England never had sons so profligate, so
profane and drunken. The clubs, especially Brooke's, were the nightly
scenes of indescribable orgies. Gambling alone was their serious
occupation; duels were of constant occurrence.

Such a life could not be lived except at frightful and generally ruinous
expense. Hyde was soon embarrassed. His pay was small and uncertain and
the allowance which his brother William added to it, in order that the
heir-apparent to the earldom might live in becoming style, had not been
calculated on the squandering basis of Hyde's expenditures. Toward
Christmas bills began to pour in, creditors became importunate, and, for
the first time in his life, creditors really troubled him. Lady Capel
was not likely to pay his debts any more. The earl, in settling Hyde's
American obligations, had warned him against incurring others, and had
frankly told him he would permit him to go to jail rather than pay such
wicked and foolish bills for him again. The income from Hyde Manor had
never been more than was required for the expenses of the place; and the
interest on Katherine's money had gone, though he could not tell how. He
was destitute of ready cash, and he foresaw that he would have to borrow
some from Lady Capel or some other accommodating friend.

He returned to barracks one Sunday afternoon, and was moodily thinking
over these things, when his orderly brought him a letter which had
arrived during his absence. It was from Katherine. His face flushed with
delight as he read it, so sweet and tender and pure was the neat
epistle. He compared it mentally with some of the shameless scented
billet-doux he was in the habit of receiving; and he felt as if his
hands were unworthy to touch the white wings of his Katherine's most
womanly, wifely message. "She wants to see me. Oh, the dear one! Not
more than I want to see her. Fool, villain, that I am! I will go to her.
Katherine! Kate! My dear little Kate!" So he ejaculated as he paced his
narrow quarters, and tried to arrange his plans for a Christmas visit
to his wife and child.

First he went to his colonel's lodging, and easily obtained two weeks'
absence; then he dressed carefully, and went to his club for dinner. He
had determined to ask Lady Capel for a hundred pounds; and he thought it
would be the best plan to make his request when she was surrounded by
company, and under the pleasurable excitement of a winning rubber. And
if the circumstances proved adverse, then he could try his fortune in
the hours of her morning retirement.

The mansion in Berkeley Square was brilliantly lighted when he
approached it. Chairs and coaches were waiting in lines of three deep;
coachmen and footmen quarrelling, shouting, talking; link-boys running
here and there in search of lost articles or missing servants. But the
hubbub did not at that time make his blood run quicker, or give any
light of expectation to his countenance; for his heart and thoughts were
near a hundred miles away.

Sunday night was Lady Capel's great card-night, and the rooms were full
of tables surrounded by powdered and painted beauties intent upon the
game and the gold. The odour of musk was everywhere, and the sound of
the tapping of gold snuff-boxes, and the fluttering of fans, and the
sharp, technical calls of the gamesters, and the hollow laughter of
hollow hearts. There was a hired singing-girl with a lute at one end of
the room, babbling of Cupid and Daphne, and green meadow and larks. But
she was poorly dressed and indifferent looking; and she sang with a
sad, mechanical air, as if her thoughts were far off. Hyde would have
passed her without a glance; but, as he approached, she broke her
love-ditty in two, and began to sing, with a meaning look at him,--

"They say there is a happy land,
Where husbands never prove untrue;
Where lovely maids may give their hearts,
And never need the gift to rue;
Where men can make and keep a vow,
And wives are never in despair.
I'm very fond of seeing sights--
Pray tell me, how can I get there?"

The question seemed so directly addressed to Hyde that he hesitated a
moment, and looked at the girl, who then with a mocking smile
continued,--

"They say there really is a land,
Where husbands never are untrue,
Where wives are always beautiful,
And the old love is always new.
I've asked the wise to tell me how
A loving woman could get there;
And this is what they say to me,--
'If you that happy land would see,
There's only one way to get there:
_Go straight along the crooked lane,
And all around the square_.'"

The scornful little song followed him, and conveyed a certain meaning to
his mind. The girl must have taken her cue from the gossip of those who
passed her to and fro. He burned with indignation, not for himself, but
for his sweet, pure Katherine. He was determined that the world should
in the future know that he held her peerless among women. In this
half-aggressive mood he approached Lady Capel. She had been unfortunate
all the evening, and was not amiable. As he stood behind her chair, Lord
Leffham asked,--

"What think you, Hyde, of a party at picquet?"

"Oh, indeed, my lord, you are too much for me!"

"I will give you three points." Then, calling a footman, "Here, fellow,
get cards."

Lady Capel flung her own down. "No, no, Leffham. Spare my grandson:
there are bigger fish here. Dick, I am angry at you. I have a mind to
banish you for a month."

"I am going to Norfolk for two weeks, madam."

[Illustration: "Dick, I am angry at you"]

"That will do. It is a worse punishment than I should have given you.
Norfolk! There is only one word between it and the plantations. At this
time of the year, it is a clay pudding full of villages. Give me your
arm, Dick; I shall play no more until my luck turns again. Losing cards
are dull company indeed."

"I am very sorry that you have been losing. I came to ask for the loan
of a hundred pounds, grandmother."

"No, sir, I will not lend you a hundred pounds; nor am I in the humour
to do anything else you desire."

"I make my apology for the request. I ought to have asked Katherine."

"No, sir, you ought not to have asked Katherine. You ought to take what
you want. Jack Capel took every shilling of my fortune and neither said
'by your leave' nor 'thank you.' Did the Dutchman tie the bag too
close?"

"Councillor Van Heemskirk left it open, in my honour. When I am
scoundrel enough to touch it, I shall not come and see you at all,
grandmother."

"Upon my word, a very pretty compliment! Well, sir, I'll pay you a
hundred pounds for it. When do you start?"

"To-morrow morning."

"Make it afternoon, and take care of me as far as your aunt Julia's. The
duke is of the royal bed-chamber this month, and I am going to see my
daughter while he is away. It will make him supremely wretched at court
to know that I am in his house. So I am going there, and I shall take
care he knows it."

"I have heard a great deal of his new house."

"A play-house kind of affair, Dick, I assure you,--all in the French
style; gods and goddesses above your head, and very badly dressed nymphs
all around, and his pedigree on every window, and his coat of arms on
the very stairs. I have the greatest satisfaction in treading upon them,
I assure you."

"Why do you take the trouble to go? It can give you no pleasure."

"Imagine the true state of things, Dick. The duke is at court--say he is
holding the royal gold wash-basin; but in the very sunshine of King
George's smile, he is thinking, 'That snuffy old woman is lounging in my
white and gilt satin chairs, and handling all my Chinese curiosities,
and asking if every hideous Hindoo idol is a fresh likeness of me.' I am
always willing to take some trouble to give pleasure to the people I
like; I will gladly go to any amount of trouble to annoy the people I
hate as cordially as I hate my good, rich, noble son-in-law, the great
Duke of Exmouth."

"Will you play again?"

"No; I lost seventy pounds to-night."

"I protest, grandmother, that such high stakes go not with amusement.
People come here, not for civility, but for the chance of money."

"Very well, sir. Money! It is the only excuse for card-playing. All the
rest is sinning without temptation. But, Dick, put on the black coat to
preach in,--why do they wear black to preach in?--and I am not in a
humour for a sermon. Come to-morrow at one o'clock; we shall reach
Julia's before dinner. And I dare say you want money to-night. Here are
the keys of my desk. In the right-hand drawer are some _rouleaus_ of
fifty pounds each. Take two."

[Illustration: She was softly singing to the drowsy child]

The weather, as Lady Capel said, was "so very Decemberish" that the
roads were passably good, being frozen dry and hard; and on the evening
of the third day Hyde came in sight of his home. His heart warmed to the
lonely place; and the few lights in its windows beckoned him far more
pleasantly than the brilliant illuminations of Vauxhall or Almacks, or
even the cold splendours of royal receptions. He had given Katherine no
warning of his visit--partly because he had a superstitious feeling
about talking of expected joys (he had noticed that when he did so they
vanished beyond his grasp); partly because love, like destiny, loves
surprises; and he wanted to see with his own eyes, and hear with his own
ears, the glad tokens of her happy wonder.

So he rode his horse upon the turf, and, seeing a light in the stable,
carried him there at once. It was just about the hour of the evening
meal, and the house was brighter than it would have been a little later.
The kitchen fire threw great lustres across the brick-paved yard; and
the blinds in Katherine's parlour were undrawn, and its fire and
candle-light shone on the freshly laid tea-table, and the dark walls
gleaming with bunches of holly and mistletoe. But she was not there. He
only glanced inside the room, and then, with a smile on his face, went
swiftly upstairs. He had noticed the light in the upper windows, and he
knew where he would find his wife. Before he reached the nursery, he
heard Katherine's voice. The door was a little open, and he could see
every part of the charming domestic scene within the room. A middle-aged
woman was quietly putting to rights the sweet disorder incident to the
undressing of the baby. Katherine had played with it until they were
both a little flushed and weary; and she was softly singing to the
drowsy child at her breast.

It was a very singular chiming melody, and the low, sweet, tripping
syllables were in a language quite unknown to him. But he thought that
he had never heard music half so sweet and tender; and he listened to
it, and watched the drowsy, swaying movements of the mother, with a
strange delight,--

"Trip a trop a tronjes,
De varkens in de boonjes,
De keojes in de klaver,
De paardeen in de haver,
De eenjes in de waterplass,
So groot mijn kleine Joris wass."

Over and over, softer and slower, went the melody. It was evident that
the boy was asleep, and that Katherine was going to lay him in his
cradle. He watched her do it; watched her gently tuck in the cover, and
stand a moment to look down at the child. Then with a face full of love
she turned away, smiling, and quite unconsciously came toward him on
tiptoes. With his face beaming, with his arms opened, he entered; but
with such a sympathetic understanding of the sweet need of silence and
restraint that there was no alarm, no outcry, no fuss or amazement. Only
a whispered "Katherine," and the swift rapture of meeting hearts and
lips.

[Illustration: Chapter heading]

XIII.

"_Death asks for no man's leave,
But lifts the latch, and enters, and sits down_."

The great events of most lives occur in epochs. A certain period is
marked by a succession of important changes, but that ride of fortune,
be it good or ill, culminates, recedes, goes quite out, and leaves life
on a level beach of commonplaces. Then, sooner or later, the current of
affairs turns again; sometimes with a calm, irresistible flow, sometimes
in a tidal wave of sudden and overwhelming strength. After Hyde's and
Katherine's marriage, there was a long era noticeable only for such
vicissitudes as were incident to their fortune and position. But in May,
A.D. 1774, the first murmur of the returning tide of destiny was heard.
Not but what there had been for long some vague and general expectation
of momentous events which would touch many individual lives; but this
May night, a singular prescience of change made Hyde restless and
impatient.

It was a dull, drizzling evening; and there was an air of depression in
the city, to which he was unusually sensitive. For the trouble between
England and her American Colonies was rapidly culminating; and party
feeling ran high, not only among civilians, but throughout the royal
regiments. Recently, also, a petition had been laid before the king from
the Americans then resident in London, praying him not to send troops to
coerce his subjects in America; and, when Hyde entered his club, some
members were engaged in an angry altercation on this subject.

"The petition was flung upon the table, as it ought to have been," said
Lord Paget.

"You are right," replied Mr. Hervey; "they ought to petition no longer.
They ought now to resist. Mr. Dunning said in the House last night that
the tone of the Government to the Colonies was, 'Resist, and we will cut
your throats: acquiesce, and we will tax you.'"

"A kind of 'stand and deliver' government," remarked Hyde, whistling
softly.

Lord Paget turned upon him with hardly concealed anger. "Captain, you,
sir, wear the king's livery."

"I give the king my service: my thoughts are my own. And, faith, Lord
Paget, it is my humour to utter them when and how I please!"

"Patience, gentlemen," returned Mr. Hervey. "I think, my lord, we may
follow our leaders. The Duke of Richmond spoke warmly for Boston last
night. 'The Bostonians are punished without a hearing,' he said; 'and if
they resist punishment, I wish them success.' Are they not Englishmen,
and many of them born on English soil? When have Englishmen submitted to
oppression? Neither king, lords, nor commons can take away the rights of
the people. It is past a doubt, too, that his Majesty, at the levee last
night, laughed when he said he would just as lief fight the Bostonians
as the French. I heard this speech was received with a dead silence, and
that great offence was given by it."

"I think the king was right," said Paget passionately. "Rebellious
subjects are worse than open enemies like the French."

"My lord, you must excuse me if I do not agree with your opinions. Was
the king right to give a government to the Canadians at this precise
time? What can his Protestant North-American subjects think, but that he
designs the hundred thousand Catholics of Canada against their
liberties? It is intolerable; and the king was mobbed this afternoon in
the park, on the matter. As for the bishops who voted the Canada bill,
they ought to be unfrocked."

"Mr. Hervey, I beg to remind you that my uncle, who is of the see of St.
Cuthbert, voted for it."

"Oh, it is notorious that all the English bishops, excepting only Dr.
Shipley, voted for war with America! I hear that they anticipate an
hierarchy there when the country is conquered. And the fight has begun
at home, for Parliament is dissolved on the subject."

"It died in the Roman-Catholic faith," laughed Hyde, "and left us a
rebellion for a legacy."

"Captain Hyde, you are a traitor."

"Lord Paget, I deny it. My loyalty does not compel me to swear by all
the follies and crimes of the Government. My sword is my country's; but
I would not for twenty kings draw it against my own countrymen,"--then,
with a meaning glance at Lord Paget and an emphatic touch of his
weapon,--"except in my own private quarrel. And if this be treason, let
the king look to it. He will find such treason in every regiment in
England. They say he is going to hire Hessians: he will need them for
his American business, for he has no prerogative to force Englishmen to
murder Englishmen."

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