The Bow of Orange Ribbon: A Romance of New York

“The trifles of our daily lives, The common things scarce worth recall, Whereof no visible trace survives,—­ These are the mainsprings, after all.”

“Honoured gentleman, when will you pay me my money?”

The speaker was an old man, dressed in a black coat buttoned to the ankles, and a cap of silk and fur, from beneath which fell a fringe of gray hair.  His long beard was also gray, and he leaned upon an ivory staff carved with many strange signs.  The inquiry was addressed to Captain Hyde.  He paid no attention whatever to it, but, gayly humming a stave of “Marlbrook,” watched the crush of wagons and pedestrians, in order to find a suitable moment to cross the narrow street.

“Honoured gentleman, when will you pay me my moneys?”

The second inquiry elicited still less attention for, just as it was made, Neil Semple came out of the City Hall, and his appearance gave the captain a good excuse for ignoring the unpleasant speaker.

“Faith, Mr. Semple,” he cried, “you came in an excellent time.  I am for Fraunce’s Tavern, and a chop and a bottle of Madeira.  I shall be vastly glad of your company.”

The grave young lawyer, with his hands full of troublesome-looking papers, had little of the air of a boon companion; and, indeed, the invitation was at once courteously declined.

“I have a case on in the Admiralty Court, Captain,” he answered, “and so my time is not my own.  It belongs, I may say, to the man who has paid me good money for it.”

“Lawyer Semple?”

“Mr. Cohen, at your service, sir.”

“Captain Hyde owes me one hundred guineas, with the interests, since the fifteenth day of last December.  He will not hear me when I say to him, ‘Pay me my moneys;’ perhaps he will listen, if you speak for me.”

“If you are asking my advice in the way of business, you know my office-door, Cohen; if in the way of friendship, I may as well say at once, that I never name friendship and money in the same breath.  Good-day, gentlemen.  I am in something of a hurry, as you may understand.”  Cohen bowed low in response to the civil greeting; Captain Hyde stared indignantly at the man who had presumed to couple one of his Majesty’s officers with a money-lender and a Jew.

“I do not wish to make you more expenses, Captain;” and Cohen, following the impulse of his anxiety, laid his hand upon his debtor’s arm.  Hyde turned in a rage, and flung off the touch with a passionate oath.  Then the Jew left him.  There was neither anger nor impatience visible in his face or movements.  He cast a glance up at the City Hall,—­an involuntary appeal, perhaps, to the justice supposed to inhabit its chambers,—­and then he walked slowly toward his store and home.

[Illustration:  Hyde flung off the touch with a passionate oath]

Both were under one roof,—­a two-storied building in the lower part of Pearl Street, dingy and unattractive in outward appearance, but crowded in its interior with articles of beauty and worth,—­Flemish paintings and rich metal work, Venetian glasses and velvets, Spanish and Moorish leather goods, silverware, watches, jewellery, etc.  The window of the large room in which all was stored was dim with cobwebs, and there was no arrangement of the treasures.  They were laid in the drawers of the great Dutch presses and in cabinets, or packed in boxes, or hung against the walls.

At the back of the store, there was a small sitting-room, and behind it a kitchen, built in a yard which was carefully boarded up.  A narrow stairway near the front of the store led to the apartments above.  They were three in number.  One was a kind of lumber-room; a second, Cohen’s sleeping-room; and the largest, at the back of the house, belonged to the Jew’s grandchild Miriam.  There was one servant in the family, an old woman who had come to America with Jacob.  She spoke little English, and she lived in complete seclusion in her kitchen and yard.  As far as Jacob Cohen was concerned, he preserved an Oriental reticence about the women of his household; he never spoke of them, and he was never seen in their company.  It was seldom they went abroad; when they did so, it was early in the morning, and usually to the small synagogue in Mill Street.

He soon recovered the calmness which had been lost during his unsatisfactory interview with Captain Hyde.  “A wise man frets not himself for the folly of a fool;” and, having come to this decision, he entered his house with the invocation for its peace and prosperity on his lips.  A party of three gentlemen were examining his stock:  they were Governor Clinton and his friends Colden and Belcher.

“Cohen,” said Clinton, “you have many fine things here; in particular, this Dutch cabinet, with heavy brass mountings.  Send it to my residence.  And that Venetian mirror with the silver frame will match the silver sconces you sold me at the New Year.  I do not pretend to be a judge, but these things are surely extremely handsome.  Pray, sir, let us see the Moorish leather that William Walton has reserved for his new house.  I hear you are to have the ordering of the carpets and tapestries.  You will make money, Jacob Cohen.”

“Your Excellency knows best.  I shall make my just profits,—­no more, no more.”

“Yes, yes; you have many ways to make profits, I hear.  All do well, too.”

“When God pleases, it rains with every wind, your Excellency.”

Then there was a little stir in the street,—­that peculiar sense of something more than usual, which can make itself felt in the busiest thoroughfare,—­and Golden went to the door and looked out.  Joris Van Heemskirk was just passing, and his walk was something quicker than usual.

“Good-day to you, Councillor.  Pray, sir, what is to do at the wharf?  I perceive a great bustle comes thence.”

“At your service, Councillor Golden.  At the wharf there is good news.  The ‘Great Christopher’ has come to anchor,—­Captain Batavius de Vries.  So a good-morrow, sir;” and Joris lifted his beaver, and proceeded on his way to Murray’s Wharf.

[Illustration:  Batavius stood at the mainmast]

Bram was already on board.  His hands were clasped across the big right shoulder of Batavius, who stood at the mainmast, giving orders about his cargo.  He was a large man, with the indisputable air of a sailor from strange seas, familiar with the idea of solitude, and used to absolute authority.  He loved Bram after his own fashion, but his vocabulary of affectionate words was not a large one.  Bram, however, understood him; he had been quite satisfied with his short and undemonstrative greeting,—­

“Thee, Bram?  Good!  How goes it?”

The advent of Joris added a little to the enthusiasm of the meeting.  Joris thoroughly liked Batavius, and their hands slipped into each other’s with a mighty grasp almost spontaneously.  After some necessary delay, the three men left the ship together.  There was quite a crowd on the wharf.  Some were attracted by curiosity; others, by the hope of a good job on the cargo; others, again, not averse to a little private bargaining for any curious or valuable goods the captain of the “Great Christopher” had for sale.  Cohen was among the latter; but he had too much intelligence to interfere with a family party, especially as he heard Joris say to the crowd with a polite authority, “Make way, friends, make way.  When a man is off a three-years’ cruise, for a trifle he should not be stopped.”

Joanna had had a message from her lover, and she was watching for his arrival.  There was no secrecy in her love-affairs, and it was amid the joy and smiles of the whole household that she met her affianced husband.  They were one of those loving, sensible couples, for whom it is natural to predict a placid and happy life; and the first words of Batavius seemed to assure it.

“My affairs have gone well, Joanna, as they generally do; and now I shall build the house, and we shall be married.”

Joanna laughed.  “I shall just say a word or two, also, about that, Batavius.”

“Come, come, the word or two was said so long ago.  Have you got the pretty Chinese kas I sent from the ship? and the Javanese cabaya, and the sweetmeats, and the golden pins?”

“All of them I have got.  Much money, Batavius, they must have cost.”

“Well, well, then!  There is enough left.  A man does not go to the African coast for nothing. Katrijntje, mijn meisje, what’s the matter now, that you never come once?”

Katherine was standing at the open window, apparently watching the honey-bees among the locust blooms, but really perceiving something far beyond them,—­a boat on the river at the end of the garden.  She could not have told how she knew that it was there; but she saw it, saw it through the intervening space, barred and shaded by many trees.  She felt the slow drift of the resting oars, and the fascination of an eager, handsome face lifted to the lilac-bushes which hedged the bank.  So the question of Batavius touched very lightly her physical consciousness.  A far sweeter, a far more peremptory voice called her; but she answered,—­

“There is nothing the matter, Batavius.  I am well, I am happy.  And now I will go into the garden to make me a fine nosegay.”

“Three times this week, into the garden you have gone to get a nosegay; and then all about it you forget.  It will be better to listen to Batavius, I think.  He will tell us of the strange countries where he has been, and of the strange men and women.”

“For you, Joanna, that will be pleasant; but”—­

“For you also.  To listen to Batavius is to learn something.”

“Well, that is the truth.  But to me all this talk is not very interesting.  I will go into the garden;” and she walked slowly out of the door, and stopped or stooped at every flower-bed, while Joanna watched her.

“The child is now a woman.  It will be a lover next, Joanna.”

“There is a lover already; but to anything he says, Katrijntje listens not.  It is at her father’s knee she sits, not at the lover’s.”

“It will be Rem Verplanck?  And what will come of it?”

“No, it is Neil Semple.  To-night you will see.  He comes in and talks of the Assembly and the governor, and of many things of great moment.  But it is Katherine for all that.  A girl has not been in love four years for nothing.  I can see, too, that my father looks sad, and my mother says neither yes nor no in the matter.”

“The Semples are good business managers.  They are also rich, and they approve of good morals and the true religion.  Be content, Joanna.  Many roads lead to happiness beside the road we take.  Now, let us talk of our own affairs.”

It was at this moment that Katherine turned to observe if she were watched.  No:  Batavius and Joanna had gone away from the window, and for a little while she would not be missed.  She ran rapidly to the end of the garden, and, parting the lilac-bushes, stood flushed and panting on the river-bank.  There was a stir of oars below her.  It was precisely as she had known it would be.  Captain Hyde’s pretty craft shot into sight, and a few strokes put it at the landing-stair.  In a moment he was at her side.  He took her in his arms; and, in spite of the small hands covering her blushing face, he kissed her with passionate affection.

[Illustration:  He took her in his arms]

“My darling, my charmer,” he said, “how you have tortured me!  By my soul, I have been almost distracted.  Pray, now let me see thy lovely face.”  He lifted it in his hands and kissed it again,—­kissed the rosy cheeks, and white dropped eyelids, and red smiling mouth; vowed with every kiss that she was the most adorable of women, and protested, “on his honour as a soldier,” that he would make her his wife, or die a bachelor for her sake.

And who can blame a young girl if she listens and believes, when listening and believing mean to her perfect happiness?  Not women who have ever stood, trembling with love and joy, close to the dear one’s heart.  If they be gray-haired, and on the very shoal of life, they must remember still those moments of delight,—­the little lane, the fire-lit room, the drifting boat, that is linked with them.  If they be young and lovely, and have but to say, “It was yesterday,” or, “It was last week,” still better they will understand the temptation that was too great for Katherine to overcome.

And, as yet, nothing definite had been said to her about Neil Semple, and the arrangement made for her future.  Joris had intended every day to tell her, and every day his heart had failed him.  He felt as if the entire acceptance of the position would be giving his little daughter away.  As long as she was not formally betrothed, she was all his own; and Neil could not use that objectionable word “my” in regard to her.  Lysbet was still more averse to a decisive step.  She had had “dreams” and “presentiments” of unusual honour for Katherine, which she kept with a superstitious reverence in her memory; and the girl’s great beauty and winning manners had fed this latent expectancy.  But to see her the wife of Neil Semple did not seem to be any realization of her ambitious hopes.  She had known Neil all his life; and she could not help feeling, that, if Katherine’s fortune lay with him, her loving dreams were all illusions and doomed to disappointment.

Besides, with a natural contradiction, she was a little angry at Neil’s behaviour.  He had been coming to their house constantly for a month at least; every opportunity of speaking to Katherine on his own behalf had been given him, and he had not spoken.  He was too indifferent, or he was too confident; and either feeling she resented.  But she judged Neil wrongly.  He was an exceedingly cautious young man; and he felt what the mother could not perceive,—­a certain atmosphere about the charming girl which was a continual repression to him.  In the end, he determined to win her, win her entirely, heart and hand; therefore he did not wish to embarrass his subsequent wooing by having to surmount at the outset the barrier of a premature “no.”  And, as yet, his jealousy of Captain Hyde was superficial and intermitting; it had not entered his mind that an English officer could possibly be an actual rival to him.  They were all of them notoriously light of love, and the Colonial beauties treated their homage with as light a belief; only it angered and pained him that Katherine should suffer herself to be made the pastime of Hyde’s idle hours.

On the night of De Vries’ return, there was a great gathering at Van Heemskirk’s house.  No formal invitations were given, but all the friends of the family understood that it would be so.  Joris kept on his coat and ruffles and fine cravat, Batavius wore his blue broadcloth and gilt buttons, and Lysbet and her daughters were in their kirk dresses of silk and camblet.  It was an exquisite summer evening, and the windows looking into the garden were all open; so also was the door; and long before sunset the stoop was full of neighbourly men, smoking with Joris and Batavius, and discussing Colonial and commercial affairs.

In the living-room and the best parlour their wives were gathered,—­women with finely rounded forms, very handsomely clothed, and all busily employed in the discussion of subjects of the greatest interest to them.  For Joanna’s marriage was now to be freely talked over,—­the house Batavius was going to build described, the linen and clothing she had prepared examined, and the numerous and rich presents her lover had brought her wondered over, and commented upon.

Conspicuous in the happy chattering company, Lysbet Van Heemskirk bustled about, in the very whitest and stiffest of lace caps; making a suggestion, giving an opinion, scolding a careless servant, putting out upon the sideboard Hollands, Geneva, and other strong waters, and ordering in from the kitchen hot chocolate and cakes of all kinds for the women of the company.  Very soon after sundown, Elder Semple and madam his wife arrived; and the elder, as usual, made a decided stir among the group which he joined.

“No, no, Councillor,” he said, in answer to the invitation of Joris to come outside.  “No, no, I’ll not risk my health, maybe my vera life, oot on the stoop after sunset.  ‘Warm,’ do you say?  Vera warm, and all the waur for being warm.  My medical man thinks I hae a tendency to fever, and there’s four-fourths o’ fever in every inch o’ river mist that a man breathes these warm nights.”

“Well, then, neighbours, we’ll go inside,” said Joris.  “Clean pipes, and a snowball, or a glass of Holland, will not, I think, be amiss.”

The movement was made among some jokes and laughter; and they gathered near the hearthstone, where, in front of the unlit hickory logs, stood a tall blue jar filled with feathery branches of fennel and asparagus.  But, as the jar of Virginia was passed round, Lysbet looked at Dinorah, and Dinorah went to the door and called, “Baltus;” and in a minute or two a little black boy entered with some hot coals on a brass chafing-dish, and the fire was as solemnly and silently passed round as if it were some occult religious ceremony.

The conversation interrupted by Semples entrance was not resumed.

[Illustration:  A little black boy entered]

It had been one dealing out unsparing and scornful disapproval of Governor Clinton’s financial methods, and Clinton was known to be a personal friend of Semple’s.  But the elder would perhaps hardly have appreciated the consideration, if he had divined it; for he dearly loved an argument, and had no objections to fight for his own side single-handed.  In fact, it was so natural for him to be “in opposition,” that he could not bear to join the general congratulation to De Vries on his fortunate voyage.

“You were lang awa’, Captain,” was his opening speech.  “It would tak’ a deal o’ gude fortune to mak’ it worth your while to knock around the high seas for three years or mair.”

“Well, look now, Elder, I didn’t come home with empty hands.  I have always been apt to get into the place where gold and good bargains were going.”

“Hum-m-m!  You sailed for Rotterdam, I think?”

“That is true; from Rotterdam I went to Batavia, and then to the coast of Africa.  The African cargo took me to the West Indies.  From Kingston it was easy to St. Thomas and Surinam for cotton, and then to Curaçoa for dyeing-woods and spices.  The ‘Great Christopher’ took luck with her.  Every cargo was a good cargo.”

“I’ll no be certain o’ that, Captain.  I would hae some scruples mysel’ anent buying and selling men and women o’ any colour.  We hae no quotations from the other world, and it may be the Almighty holds his black men at as high a figure as his white men.  I’m just speculating, you ken.  I hae a son—­my third son, Alexander Semple, o’ Boston—­wha has made money on the Africans.  I hae told him, likewise, that trading in wheat and trading in humanity may hae ethical differences; but every one settles his ain bill, and I’ll hae enough to do to secure mysel’.”

Batavius was puzzled; and at the words “ethical differences,” his big brown hand was “in the hair” at once.  He scratched his head and looked doubtfully at Semple, whose face was peculiarly placid and thoughtful and kindly.

“Men must work, Elder, and these blacks won’t work unless they are forced to.  I, who am a baptized Christian, have to do my duty in this life; and, as for pagans, they must be made to do it.  I am myself a great lover of morality, and that is what I think.  Also, you may read in the Scriptures, that St. Paul says that if a man will not work, neither shall he eat.”

“St. Paul dootless kent a’ about the question o’ forced labour, seeing that he lived when baith white and black men were sold for a price.  However, siller in the hand answers a’ questions and the dominie made a vera true observe one Sabbath, when he said that the Almighty so ordered things in this warld that orthodoxy and good living led to wealth and prosperity.”

“That is the truth,” answered Justice Van Gaasbeeck; “Holland is Holland because she has the true faith.  You may see that in France there is anarchy and bloodshed and great poverty; that is because they are Roman Catholics.”

It was at this moment that Katherine came and stood behind her father’s chair.  She let her hand fall down over his shoulder, and he raised his own to clasp it.  “What is it, then, mijn Katrijntje kleintje?”

“It is to dance.  Mother says ‘yes’ if thou art willing.”

“Then I say ‘yes,’ also.”

For a moment she laid her cheek against his; and the happy tears came into his eyes, and he stroked her face, and half-reluctantly let Batavius lead her away.  For, at the first mention of a dance, Batavius had risen and put down his pipe; and in a few minutes he was triumphantly guiding Joanna in a kind of mazy waltzing movement, full of spirit and grace.

At that day there were but few families of any wealth who did not own one black man who could play well upon the violin.  Joris possessed two; and they were both on hand, putting their own gay spirits into the fiddle and the bow.  And oh, how happy were the beating feet and the beating hearts that went to the stirring strains!  It was joy and love and youth in melodious motion.  The old looked on with gleaming, sympathetic eyes; the young forgot that they were mortal.

Then there was a short pause; and the ladies sipped chocolate, and the gentlemen sipped something a little stronger, and a merry ripple of conversation and of hearty laughter ran with the clink of glass and china, and the scraping of the fiddle-bows.

“Miss Katern Van Heemskirk and Mr. Neil Semple will now hab de honour of ’bliging de company wid de French minuet.”

At this announcement, made by the first negro violin, there was a sudden silence; and Neil rose, and with a low bow offered the tips of his fingers to the beautiful girl, who rose blushing to take them.  The elder deliberately turned his chair around, in order to watch the movement comfortably; and there was an inexpressible smile of satisfaction on his face as his eyes followed the young people.  Neil’s dark, stately beauty was well set off by his black velvet suit and powdered hair and gold buckles.  And no lovelier contrast could have faced him than Katherine Van Heemskirk; so delicately fresh, so radiantly fair, she looked in her light-blue robe and white lace stomacher, with a pink rose at her breast.  There were shining amber beads around her white throat, and a large amber comb fastened her pale brown hair.  A gilded Indian fan was in her hand, and she used it with all the pretty airs she had so aptly copied from Mrs. Gordon.

Neil had a natural majesty in his carriage; Katherine supplemented it with a natural grace, and with certain courtly movements which made the little Dutch girls, who had never seen Mrs. Gordon practising them, admire and wonder.  As she was in the very act of making Neil a profound courtesy, the door opened, and Mrs. Gordon and Captain Hyde entered.  The latter took in the exquisite picture in a moment; and there was a fire of jealousy in his heart when he saw Neil lead his partner to her seat, and with the deepest respect kiss her pretty fingers ere he resigned them.

But he was compelled to control himself, as he was ceremoniously introduced to Councillor and Madam Van Heemskirk by his aunt, who, with a charming effusiveness, declared “she was very uneasy to intrude so far; but, in faith, Councillor,” she pleaded, “I am but a woman, and I find the news of a wedding beyond my nature to resist.”

There was something so frank and persuasive about the elegant stranger, that Joris could not refuse the courtesy she asked for herself and her nephew.  And, having yielded, he yielded with entire truth and confidence.  He gave his hand to his visitors, and made them heartily welcome to join in his household rejoicing.  True, Mrs. Gordon’s persuasive words were ably seconded by causes which she had probably calculated.  The elder and Madam Semple were present, and it would have been impossible for Joris to treat their friends rudely.  Bram was also another conciliating element, for Captain Hyde was on pleasant speaking terms with him; and, as yet, even Neil’s relations were at least those of presumed friendship.  Also, the Van Gaasbeeks and others present were well inclined to make the acquaintance of a woman so agreeable, and an officer so exceptionally handsome and genteel.  Besides which, Joris was himself in a happy and genial mood; he had opened his house and his heart to his friends; and he did not feel at that hour as if he could doubt any human being, or close his door against even the stranger and the alien who wished to rejoice with him.

Elder Semple was greatly pleased at his friend’s complaisance.  He gave Joris full credit for his victory over his national prejudices, and he did his very best to make the concession a pleasant event.  In this effort, he was greatly assisted by Mrs. Gordon; she set herself to charm Van Heemskirk, as she had set herself to charm Madam Van Heemskirk on her previous visit; and she succeeded so well, that, when “Sir Roger de Coverley” was called, Joris rose, offered her his hand, and, to the delight of every one present, led the dance with her.

It was a little triumph for the elder; and he sat smiling, and twirling his fingers, and thoroughly enjoying the event.  Indeed, he was so interested in listening to the clever way in which “the bonnie woman flattered Van Heemskirk,” that he was quite oblivious of the gathering wrath in his son’s face, and the watchful gloom in Bram’s eyes, as the two men stood together, jealously observant of Captain Hyde’s attentions to Katherine.  Without any words spoken on the subject, there was an understood compact between them to guard the girl from any private conversation with him; and yet two men with hearts full of suspicion and jealousy were not a match for one man with a heart full of love.  In a moment, in the interchange of their hands in a dance, Katherine clasped tightly a little note, and unobserved hid it behind the rose at her breast.

But nothing is a wonder in love, or else it would have been amazing that Joanna did not notice the rose absent from her sister’s dress after Captain Hyde’s departure; nor yet that Katherine, ere she went to rest that night, kissed fervently a tiny bit of paper which she hid within the silver clasps of her Kirk Bible.  The loving girl thought it no wrong to put it there; she even hoped that some kind of blessing or sanction might come through such sacred keeping; and she went to sleep whispering to herself,—­“Happy I am.  Me he loves; me he loves; me only he loves; me forever he loves!”

[Illustration:  Tail-piece]

[Illustration:  Chapter heading]