The Bow of Orange Ribbon Part 17

"In my heart, Richard, there is only room for you. Neil Semple I fear and dislike."

"They will make you marry him, my darling."

"No; that they can never do."

"But I suffer in the fear. I suffer a thousand deaths. If you were only my wife, Katherine!"

She blushed divinely. She was kneeling at his side; and she put her arms around his neck, and laid her face against his. "Only your wife I will be. That is what I desire also."

"_Now_, Katherine? This minute, darling? Make me sure of the felicity you have promised. You have my word of honour, that as Katherine Van Heemskirk I will not again ask you to come here. But it is past my impatience to exist, and not see you. _Katherine Hyde_ would have the right to come."

"Oh, my love, my love!"

"See how I tremble, Katherine. Life scarcely cares to inhabit a body so weak. If you refuse me, I will let it go. If you refuse me, I shall know that in your heart you expect to marry Neil Semple,--the savage who has made me to suffer unspeakable agonies."

"Never will I marry him, Richard,--never, never. My word is true. You only I will marry."

"Then _now, now_, Katharine. Here is the ring. Here is the special license from the governor; my aunt has made him to understand all. The clergyman and the witnesses are waiting. Some good fortune has dressed you in bridal beauty. _Now_, Katherine? _Now, now_!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Katherine knelt by Richard's side]

She rose, and stood white and trembling by his dear side,--speechless, also. To her father and her mother her thoughts fled in a kind of loving terror. But how could she resist the pleading of one whom she so tenderly loved, and to whom, in her maiden simplicity, she imagined herself to be so deeply bounden? That very self-abnegation which forms so large a portion of a true affection urged her to compliance far more than love itself. And when Richard ceased to speak, and only besought her with the unanswerable pathos of his evident suffering for her sake, she felt the argument to be irresistible.

"Well, my Katherine, will you pity me so far?"

"All you ask, my loved one, I will grant."

"Angel of goodness! _Now_?"

"At your wish, Richard."

He took her hand in a pa.s.sion of joy and grat.i.tude, and touched a small bell. Immediately there was a sudden silence, and then a sudden movement, in the adjoining room. The next moment a clergyman in canonical dress came toward them. By his side was Colonel Gordon, and Mrs. Gordon and Captain Earle followed. If Katherine had then been sensible of any misgiving or repentant withdrawal, the influences surrounding her were irresistible. But she had no distinct wish to resist them. Indeed, Colonel Gordon said afterward to his wife, "he had never seen a bride look at once so lovely and so happy." The ceremony was full of solemnity, and of that deepest joy which dims the eyes with tears, even while it wreathes the lips with smiles. During it, Katherine knelt by Richard's side; and every eye was fixed upon him, for he was almost fainting with the fatigue of his emotions; and it was with fast-receding consciousness that he whispered rapturously at its close, "My wife, my wife!"

Throughout the sleep of exhaustion which followed, she sat watching him.

The company in the next room were quietly making merry "over d.i.c.k's triumph," but Katherine shook her head at all proposals to join them.

The band of gold around her finger fascinated her. She was now really Richard's wife; and the first sensation of such a mighty change was, in her pure soul, one of infinite and reverent love. When Richard awoke, he was refreshed and supremely happy. Then Katherine brought him food and wine, and ate her own morsel beside him. "Our first meal we must take together," she said; and Hyde was already sensible of some exquisite change, some new and rarer tenderness and solicitude in all her ways toward him.

The noon hour was long past, but she made no mention of it. The wedding guests also lingered, talking and laughing softly, and occasionally visiting the happy bride and bridegroom in their blissful companions.h.i.+p.

In those few hours Richard made sure his dominion over his wife's heart; and he had so much to tell her, and so many directions to give her, that, ere they were aware, the afternoon was well spent. The clergyman and the soldiers departed, Mrs. Gordon was a little weary, and Hyde was fevered with the very excess of his joy. The moment for parting had come; and, when it has, wise are those who delay it not. Hyde fixed his eyes upon his wife until Mrs. Gordon had arranged again her bonnet and manteau; then, with a smile, he shut in their white portals the exquisite picture. He could let her go with a smile now, for he knew that Katherine's absence was but a parted presence; knew that her better part remained with him, that

"Her heart was never away, But ever with his forever."

The coach was waiting; and, without delay, Katharine returned with Mrs.

Gordon to her lodgings. Both were silent on the journey. When a great event has taken place, only the shallow and unfeeling chatter about it.

Katherine's heart was full, even to solemnity; and Mrs. Gordon, whose affectation of fas.h.i.+onable levity was in a large measure pretence, had a kind and sensible nature, and she watched the quiet girl by her side with decided approval. "She may not be in the mode, but she is neither silly nor heartless," she decided; "and as for loving foolishly my poor, delightful d.i.c.k, why, any girl may be excused the folly."

Upon leaving the coach at Mrs. Gordon's, Katherine went to an inner room to resume her own dress. The India silk lay across a chair; and she took off, and folded with her accustomed neatness, the elegant suit she had worn. As she did so, she became sensible of a singular liking for it; and, when Mrs. Gordon entered the room, she said to her, "Madam, very much I desire this suit: it is my wedding-gown. Will you save it for me?

Some day I may wear it again, when Richard is well."

"Indeed, Katherine, that is a womanly thought; it does you a vast deal of credit; and, upon my word, you shall have the gown. I shall be put to straits without it, to out-dress Miss Betty Lawson; but never mind, I have a few decent gowns beside it."

"Richard, too, he will like it? You think so, madam?"

"My dear, don't begin to quote Richard to me. I shall be impatient if you do. I a.s.sure you I have never considered him a prodigy." Then, kissing her fondly, "Madam Katherine Hyde, my entire service to you.

Pray be sure I shall give your husband my best concern. And now I think you can walk out of the door without much notice; there is a crowd on the street, and every one is busy about their own appearance or affairs."

"The time, madam? What is the hour?"

"Indeed, I think it is much after four o'clock. Half an hour hence, you will have to bring out your excuses. I shall wish for a little devil at your elbow to help them out. Indeed, I am vastly troubled for you."

"Her excuses" Katherine had not suffered herself to consider. She could not bear to shadow the present with the future. She had, indeed, a happy faculty of leaving her emergencies to take care of themselves; and perhaps wiser people than Katherine might, with advantage, trust less to their own planning and foresight, and more to that inscrutable power which we call chance, but which so often arranges favourably the events apparently very unfavourable. For, at the best, foresight has but probabilities to work with; but chance, whose tools we know not, very often contradicts all our bad prophecies, and untangles untoward events far beyond our best prudence or wisdom. And Katharine was so happy. She was really Richard's wife; and on that solid vantage-ground she felt able to beat off trouble, and to defend her own and his rights.

"So much better you look, Katherine," said Madam Van Heemskirk. "Where have you been all the day? And did you see Mary Blankaart? And the money, is it found yet?"

The family were at the supper-table; and Joris looked kindly at his truant daughter, and motioned to the vacant chair at his side. She slipped into it, touching her father's cheek as she pa.s.sed; and then she answered, "At Mary Blankaart's I was not at all, mother."

"Where, then?"

"To Margaret Pitt's I went first, and with Mrs. Gordon I have been all the day. She is lodging with Mrs. Lanier, on Pearl Street."

"Who sent you there, Katherine?"

"No one, mother. When I pa.s.sed the house, my name I heard, and Mrs.

Gordon came out to me; and how could I refuse her? Much had we to talk of."

Batavius saw the girl's placid face, and heard her open confession, with the greatest amazement. He looked at Joanna, and was just going to express his opinion, when Joris rose, pushed his chair a little angrily aside, and said, "There is no blame to you, Katherine. Very kind was Mrs. Gordon to you, and she is a pleasant woman. For others' faults she must not answer. That, also, is what Elder Semple says; for when past was her anger, with a heart full of sorrow she went to him and to Madam Semple."

"The sorrow that is too late, of what use is it? A very pleasant woman!

Perhaps she is, but then, also, a very vain, foolish woman. Every person of discretion says so; and if I had a daughter"--

"Well, then, Batavius, a daughter thou may have some day. To the man with a tender heart, G.o.d gives his daughters. Wanting in some good thing I had felt myself, if only sons I had been trusted with. A daughter is a little white lamb in the household to teach men to be gentle men."

"I was going to say this, if I had a daughter"--

"Well, then, when thou hast, more wisdom will be given thee. Come with thy father, _Katrijntje_, and down the garden we will walk, and see if there are dahlias yet, and how grow the gold and the white chrysanthemums."

But all the time they were in the garden together, Joris never spoke of Mrs. Gordon, nor of Katherine's visit to her. About the flowers, and the restless swallows, and the bluebirds, who still lingered, silent and anxious, he talked; and a little also of Joanna, and her new house, and of the great wedding feast that was the desire of Batavius.

"Every one he has ever spoken to, he will ask," said Katherine; "so hard he tries to have many friends, and to be well spoken of."

"That is his way, _Katrijntje_; every man has his way."

"And I like not the way of Batavius."

"In business, then, he has a good name, honest and prudent. He will make thy sister a good husband."

But, though Joris said nothing to his daughter concerning her visit to Mrs. Gordon, he talked long with Lysbet about it. "What will be the end, thou may see by the child's face and air," he said; "the shadow and the heaviness are gone. Like the old Katherine she is to-night."