The Bow of Orange Ribbon Part 15

"And the kirk session?"

"Oh, I care not! What is the kirk session to my little Katherine?

Batavius, if man or woman you hear speak ill of her, tell them it is not Katherine, but Bram Van Heemskirk, that will bring everything back to them. What words I say, them I mean."

"Oh, yes! And mind this, Bram, the words I think, them words I will say, whether you like them or like them not."

"As the wind you bl.u.s.ter,--on the sabbath day, also. In your s.h.i.+p I sail not, Batavius. Good-by, then, Katherine; and if any are unkind to thee, tell thy brother. For thou art right, and not wrong."

But, though Bram bravely championed his sister, he could not protect her from those wicked innuendoes disseminated for the gratification of the virtuous; nor from those malicious regrets of very good people over rumours which they declare to "be incredible," and yet which, nevertheless, they "unfortunately believe to be too true." The Scotch have a national precept which says, "Never speak ill of the dead."

Would it not be much better to speak no ill of the living? Little could it have mattered to Madam Bogardus or Madam Stuyvesant what a lot of silly people said of them in Pearl Street or Maiden Lane, a century after their death; but poor Katherine Van Heemskirk s.h.i.+vered and sickened in the presence of averted eyes and uplifted shoulders, and in that chill atmosphere of disapproval which separated her from the sympathy and confidence of her old friends and acquaintances.

"It is thy punishment," said her mother, "bear it bravely and patiently.

In a little while, it will be forgot." But the weeks went on, and the wounded men slowly fought death away from their pillows, and Katherine did not recover the place in social estimation which she had lost through the ungovernable tempers of her lovers. For, alas, there are few social pleasures that have so much vital power as that of exploring the faults of others, and comparing them with our own virtues!

But nothing ill lasts forever; and in three months Neil Semple was in his office again, wan and worn with fever and suffering, and wearing his sword arm in a sling, but still decidedly world-like and life-like. It was characteristic of Neil that few, even of his intimates, cared to talk of the duel to him, to make any observations on his absence, or any inquiries about his health. But it was evident that public opinion was in a large measure with him. Every young Provincial, who resented the domineering spirit of the army, felt Hyde's punishment in the light of a personal satisfaction. Beekman also had talked highly of the unbending spirit and physical bravery of his princ.i.p.al; and though in the Middle Kirk the affair was sure to be the subject of a reproof, and of a suspension of its highest privileges, yet it was not difficult to feel that sympathy often given to deeds publicly censured, but privately admired. Joris remarked this spirit with a little astonishment and dissent. He could not find in his heart any excuse for either Neil or Hyde; and, when the elder enlarged with some acerbity upon the requirements of honour among men, Joris offended him by replying,--

"Well, then, Elder, little I think of that 'honour' which runs not with the laws of G.o.d and country."

"Let me tell you, Joris, the 'voice of the people is the voice of G.o.d,'

in a measure; and you may see with your ain een that it mair than acquits Neil o' wrong-doing. Man, Joris! would you punish a fair sword-fight wi' the hangman?"

"A better way there is. In the pillory I would stand these men of honour, who of their own feelings think more than of the law of G.o.d. A very quick end that punishment would put to a custom wicked and absurd."

"Weel, Joris, we'll hae no quarrel anent the question. You are a Dutchman, and hae practical ideas o' things in general. Honour is a virtue that canna be put in the Decalogue, like idolatry and murder and theft."

"Say you the Decalogue? Its yea and nay are enough. Harder than any of G.o.d's laws are the laws we make for ourselves. Little I think of their justice and wisdom. If right was Neil, if wrong was Hyde, honour punished both. A very foolish law is honour, I think."

"Here comes Neil, and we'll let the question fa' to the ground. There are wiser men than either you or I on baith sides."

Joris nodded gravely, and turned to welcome the young man. More than ever he liked him; for, apart from moral and prudential reasons, it was easy for the father to forgive an unreasonable love for his Katharine.

Also, he was now more anxious for a marriage between Neil and his daughter. It was indeed the best thing to fully restore her to the social esteem of her own people; for by making her his wife, Neil would most emphatically exonerate her from all blame in the quarrel. Just this far, and no farther, had Neil's three months' suffering aided his suit,--he had now the full approval of Joris, backed by the weight of this social justification.

But, in spite of these advantages, he was really much farther away from Katherine. The three months had been full of mental suffering to her, and she blamed Neil entirely for it. She had heard from Bram the story of the challenge and the fight; heard how patiently Hyde had parried Neil's attack rather than return it, until Neil had so pa.s.sionately refused any satisfaction less than his life; heard, also, how even at the point of death, fainting and falling, Hyde had tried to protect her ribbon at his breast. She never wearied of talking with Bram on the subject; she thought of it all day, dreamed of it all night.

And she knew much more about it than her parents or Joanna supposed.

Bram had easily fallen into the habit of calling at Cohen's to ask after his patient. He would have gone for his sister's comfort alone, but it was also a great pleasure to himself. At first he saw Miriam often; and, when he did, life became a heavenly thing to Bram Van Heemskirk. And though latterly it was always the Jew himself who answered his questions, there was at least the hope that Miriam would be in the store, and lift her eyes to him, or give him a smile or a few words of greeting. Katherine very soon suspected how matters stood with her brother, and grat.i.tude led her to talk with him about the lovely Jewess. Every day she listened with apparent interest to his descriptions of Miriam, as he had seen her at various times; and every day she felt more desirous to know the girl whom she was certain Bram deeply loved.

But for some weeks after the duel she could not bear to leave the house.

It was only after both men were known to be recovering, that she ventured to kirk; and her experience there was not one which tempted her to try the streets and the stores. However, no interest is a living interest in a community but politics; and these probably retain their power because change is their element. People eventually got weary to death of Neil Semple and Captain Hyde and Katherine Van Heemskirk. The subject had been discussed in every possible light; and, when it was known that neither of the men was going to die, gossipers felt as if they had been somewhat defrauded, and the topic lost every touch of speculation.

Also, far more important events had now the public attention. During the previous March, the Stamp Act and the Quartering Act had pa.s.sed both houses of Parliament; and Virginia and Ma.s.sachusetts, conscious of their dangerous character, had roused the fears of the other Provinces; and a convention of their delegates was appointed to meet during October in New York. It was this important session which drew Neil Semple, with scarcely healed wounds, from his chamber. The streets were noisy with hawkers crying the detested Acts, and crowded with groups of stern-looking men discussing them. And, with the prospect of soldiers quartered in every home, women had a real grievance to talk over; and Katherine Van Heemskirk's love-affair became an intrusion and a bore, if any one was foolish enough to name it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The streets were noisy with hawkers]

It was during this time of excitement that Katherine said one morning, at breakfast, "Bram wait one minute for me. I am going to do an errand or two for my mother.

"It is a bad time, Katherine, you have chosen," said Batavius. "Full of men are the streets, excited men too, and of swaggering British soldiers, whom it would be a great pleasure to tie up in a halter. The British I hate,--bullying curs, everyone of them!"

"Well, I know that you hate the British, Batavius. You say so every hour."

"Katherine!"

"That is so, Joanna."

Madam looked annoyed. Joris rose, and said, "Come then, Katherine, thou shalt go with me and with Bram both. Batavius need not then fear for thee."

His voice was so tender that Katherine felt an unusual happiness and exultation; and she was also young enough to be glad to see the familiar streets again, and to feel the pulse of their vivid life make her heart beat quicker.

At Kip's store, Bram left her. She had felt so free and unremarked, that she said, "Wait not for me, Bram. By myself I will go home. Or perhaps I might call upon Miriam Cohen. What dost thou think?" And Bram's large, handsome face flushed like a girl's with pleasure, as he answered, "That I would like, and there thou could rest until the dinner-hour. As I go home, I could call for thee."

So, after selecting the goods her mother needed at Kip's, Katherine was going up Pearl Street, when she heard herself called in a familiar and urgent voice. At the same moment a door was flung open; and Mrs. Gordon, running down the few steps, put her hand upon the girl's shoulder.

"Oh, my dear, this is a piece of good fortune past belief! Come into my lodgings. Oh, indeed you shall! I will have no excuse. Surely you owe d.i.c.k and me some reward after the pangs we have suffered for you."

She was leading Katherine into the house as she spoke; and Katherine had not the will, and therefore not the power, to oppose her. She placed the girl by her side on the sofa; she took her hands, and, with a genuine grief and love, told her all that "poor d.i.c.k" had suffered and was still suffering for her sake.

"It was the most unprovoked challenge, my dear; and Neil Semple behaved like a savage, I a.s.sure you. When d.i.c.k was bleeding from half a dozen wounds, a gentleman would have been satisfied, and accepted the mediation of the seconds; but Neil, in his blind pa.s.sion, broke the code to pieces. A man who can do nothing but be in a rage is a ridiculous and offensive animal. Have you seen him since his recovery? For I hear that he has crawled out of his bed again."

"Him I have not seen."

"Gracious powers, miss! Is that all you say, 'Him I have not seen'? Make me patient with so insensible a creature! Here am I almost distracted with my three months' anxiety and poor d.i.c.k, so gone as to be past knowledge, breaking his true heart for a sight of you; and you answer me as if I had asked, 'Pray, have you seen the newspaper to-day?'"

Then Katherine covered her face, and sobbed with a hopelessness and abandon that equally fretted Mrs. Gordon. "I wish I knew one corner of this world inaccessible to lovers," she cried. "Of all creatures, they are the most ridiculous and unreasonable. Now, what are you crying for, child?"

"If I could only see Richard,--only see him for one moment!"

"That is exactly what I am going to propose. He will get better when he has seen you. I will call a coach, and we will go at once."

"Alas! Go I dare not. My father and my mother!"

"And d.i.c.k,--what of d.i.c.k, poor d.i.c.k, who is dying for you?" She went to the door, and gave the order for a coach. "Your lover, Katherine. Child, have you no heart? Shall I tell d.i.c.k you would not come with me?"

"Be not so cruel to me. That you have seen me at all, why need you say?"

"Oh! indeed, miss, do not imagine yourself the only person who values the truth. d.i.c.k always asks me, 'Have you seen her?' 'Tis my humour to be truthful, and I am always swayed by my inclination. I shall feel it to be my duty to inform him how indifferent you are. Katherine, put on your bonnet again. Here also are my veil and cloak. No one will perceive that it is you. It is the part of humanity, I a.s.sure you. Do so much for a poor soul who is at the grave's mouth."

"My father, I promised him"--

"O child! have six penny worth of common feeling about you. The man is dying for your sake. If he were your enemy, instead of your true lover, you might pity him so much. Do you not wish to see d.i.c.k?"

"My life for his life I would give."

"Words, words, my dear. It is not your life he wants. He asks only ten minutes of your time. And if you desire to see him, give yourself the pleasure. There is nothing more silly than to be too wise to be happy."

While thus alternately urging and persuading Katherine, the coach came, the disguise was a.s.sumed, and the two drove rapidly to the "King's Arms." Hyde was lying upon a couch which had been drawn close to the window. But in order to secure as much quiet as possible, he had been placed in one of the rooms at the rear of the tavern,--a large, airy room, looking into the beautiful garden which stretched away backward as far as the river. He had been in extremity. He was yet too weak to stand, too weak to endure long the strain of company or books or papers.

He heard his aunt's voice and footfall, and felt, as he always did, a vague pleasure in her advent. Whatever of life came into his chamber of suffering came through her. She brought him daily such intelligences as she thought conducive to his recovery; and it must be acknowledged that it was not always her "humour to be truthful." For Hyde had so craved news of Katherine, that she believed he would die wanting it; and she had therefore fallen, without one conscientious scruple, into the reporter's temptation,--inventing the things which ought to have taken place, and did not. "For, in faith, Nigel," she said to her husband, in excuse, "those who have nothing to tell must tell lies."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Katherine was close to his side]