The Bow of Orange Ribbon Part 4

"Well, then, I will send Dinorah for them with a civil message. That will be right."

So Lysbet turned and left the room. She did not notice the rebellious look on her daughter's face, the lowering brows, the resentment in the glance that followed her, the lips firmly set to the mental purpose. "To see her lover at all risks"--that was the purpose; but how best to accomplish it, was not clear to her. The ways of the household were so orderly, so many things brought the family together during the day, Lysbet and Joanna kept such a loving watch over her, the road between their own house and the Semples' was so straight and unscreened, and she was, beside, such a novice in deception,--all these circ.u.mstances flas.h.i.+ng at once across her mind made her, for a moment or two, almost despair.

But she lifted the key given her and went to the parlour. It was a large, low room, with wainscoted walls, and a big tiled fireplace nearly filling one end of it. The blinds were closed, but there was enough light to reveal its quaint and almost foreign character. Great jars with dragons at the handles stood in the recesses made by large oak cabinets, black with age, and elaborately carved with a marvellous nicety and skill. The oval tables were full of curious bits of china, dainty Oriental wicker work, exquisite sh.e.l.ls on lacquered trays, wonderfully wrought workboxes and fans and amulets. The odours of calamus and myrrh and camphor from strange continents mingled with the faint perfume of the dried rose leaves and the scent-bags of English lavender. Many of these rare and beautiful things were the spoils brought from India and Java by the sea-going Van Heemskirks of past generations. Others had come at long intervals as gifts from the captains of s.h.i.+ps with whom the house did business. Katherine had often seen such visitors--men with long hair and fierce looks, and the pallor of hot, moist lands below the tan of wind and suns.h.i.+ne. It had always been her delight to dust and care for these various treasures; and the room itself, with its suggestive aromas, was her favourite hiding-place. Here she had made her own fairy tales, and built the enchanted castles which the less fortunate children of this day have clever writers build for them.

And at length the prince of her imagination had come! As she moved about among the strange carven toys and beautiful ornaments, she could think only of him,--of his stately manner and dark, handsome face. Simple, even rustic, she might be; but she understood that he had treated her with as much deference and homage as if she had been a princess. She recalled every word he said to her as they sat under the water beeches.

More vividly still she recalled the tender light in his eyes, the lingering clasp of his hand, his low, persuasive voice, and that nameless charm of fas.h.i.+on and culture which perhaps impressed her more than any other thing.

Among the articles she had to dust was a square Indian box with drawers.

It had always been called "the writing-box," and it was partly filled with paper and other materials for letter-writing. She stood before the open lid thoughtfully, and a sudden overwhelming desire to send some message of apology to Mrs. Gordon came into her heart. She could write pretty well, and she had seen her mother and Joanna fold and seal letters; and, although she was totally inexperienced in the matter, she determined to make the effort.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The quill pens must be mended]

There was nothing in the materials then to help her. The letter paper was coa.r.s.e; envelopes were unknown. She would have to bring a candle into the room in order to seal it; and a candle could only be lit by striking a spark from the flint upon the tinder, and then igniting a brimstone match from it,--unless she lit it at the kindled fire, which would subject her to questions and remonstrances. Also, the quill pens must be mended, and the ink renewed. But all these difficulties were overcome, one by one; and the following note was intrusted to the care of Diedrich Becker, the old man who worked in the garden and milked the cows:

To MISTRESS COLONEL GORDON: HONOURED MADAM: My father forbids that I come to see you. He thinks you should upon my mother call. That you will judge me to be rude and ungrateful I fear very much. But that is not true. I am unhappy, indeed. I think all the day of you.

Your obedient servant, KATHERINE VAN HEEMSKIRK.

"'The poor child," said Mrs. Gordon, when she had read the few anxious sentences. "Look here, d.i.c.k;" and d.i.c.k, who was beating a tattoo upon the window-pane, turned listlessly and asked, "Pray, madam, what is it?"

"Of all earthly things, a letter from that poor child, Katherine Van Heemskirk. She has more wit than I expected. So her father won't let her come to me. Why, then, upon my word, I will go to her."

Captain Hyde was interested at once. He took the letter his aunt offered, and read it with a feeling of love and pity and resentment.

"You will go to-morrow?" he asked; "and would it be beyond good breeding for me to accompany you?"

"Indeed, nephew, I think it would. But I will give your service, and say everything that is agreeable. Be patient; to-morrow morning I will call upon our fair neighbour."

The next morning was damp, for there had been heavy rain during the night; but Captain Hyde would not let his aunt forget or forego her promise. She had determined to make an unceremonious visit; and early in the day she put on her bonnet and pelisse, and walked over to the Van Heemskirks. A negro woman was polis.h.i.+ng the bra.s.s ornaments of the door, and over its spotless threshold she pa.s.sed without question or delay.

A few minutes she waited alone in the best parlour, charmed with its far off air and Eastern scents, and then Madam Van Heemskirk welcomed her.

In her heart she was pleased at the visit. She thought privately that her Joris had been a little too strict. She did not really see why her beautiful daughters should not have the society and admiration of the very best people in the Province. And Mrs. Gordon's praise of Katharine, and her declaration that "she was inconsolable without the dear creature's society," seemed to the fond mother the most proper and natural of feelings.

"Do but let me see her an hour, madam," she said. "You know my sincere admiration. Is not that her voice? I vow, she sings to perfection And what a singular melody! Please to set wide the door, madam."

"It is the brave song of the brave men of Zealand, when from the walls of Leyden they drove away the Spaniards;" and madam stood in the open door, and called to her daughter, "Well, then, Katharine, begin again the song of 'The Beggars of the Sea.'"

"We are the Beggars of the Sea,-- Strong, gray Beggars from Zealand we; We are fighting for liberty: Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"Hardy sons of old Zierikzee, Fed on the breath of the wild North Sea.

Beggars are kings if free they be: Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"'_True to the Wallet_,' whatever betide; '_Long live the Gueux_,'--the sea will provide Graves for the enemy, deep and wide: Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"Beggars, but not from the Spaniard's hand; Beggars, 'under the Cross' we stand; Beggars, for love of the fatherland: Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"Now, if the Spaniard comes our way, What shall we give him, Beggars gray?

Give him a moment to kneel and pray: Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!"

At the second verse, Mrs. Gordon rose and said, "Indeed, madam, I find my good-breeding no match against such singing. And the tune is wonderful; it has the ring of trumpets, and the roar of the waves, in it. Pray let us go at once to your daughters."

"At work are they; but, if you mind not that, you are welcome indeed."

Then she led the way to the large living, or dining, room, where Katherine stood at the table cleaning the silver flagons and cups and plates that adorned the great oak sideboard.

Joanna, who was darning some fine linen, rose and made her respects with perfect composure. She had very little liking, either for Mrs. Gordon or her nephew; and many of their ways appeared to her utterly foolish, and not devoid of sin. But Katherine trembled and blushed with pleasure and excitement, and Mrs. Gordon watched her with a certain kind of curious delight. Her hair was combed backward, plaited, and tied with a ribbon; her arms bare to the shoulders, her black bodice and crimson petticoat neatly s.h.i.+elded with a linen ap.r.o.n: and poised in one hand she held a beautiful silver flagon covered with raised figures, which with patient labour she had brought into s.h.i.+ning relief.

"Oh," cried the visitor, "that is indeed a piece of plate worth looking at! Surely, child, it has a history,--a romance perhaps. La, there are words also upon it! Pray, madam, be so obliging as to read the inscription;" and madam, blus.h.i.+ng with pride and pleasure, read it aloud,--

"'Hoog van Moed, Klein van Goed, Een zwaard in de hand: Is 't wapen van Gelderland.'"

"Dutch, I vow! Surely, madam, it is very sonorous and emphatic; vastly different, I do a.s.sure you, from the vowelled idioms of Italy and Spain.

Pray, madam, be so civil as to translate the words for me."

"'Of spirit great, Of small estate, A sword in the hand: Such are the arms of Guelderland.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Guelderland flagon]

"You must know," continued Madam Van Heemskirk, "that my husband's father had a brother, who, in a great famine in Guelderland, filled one hundred flat boats with wheat of Zealand,--in all the world it is the finest wheat, that is the truth,--and help he sent to those who were ready to perish. And when came better days, then, because their hearts were good, they gave to their preserver this flagon. Joris Van Heemskirk, my husband, sets on it great store, that is so."

Conversation in this channel was easily maintained. Madame Van Heemskirk knew the pedigree or the history of every tray or cup, and in reminiscence and story an hour pa.s.sed away very pleasantly indeed.

Joanna did not linger to listen. The visitor did not touch her liking or her interest; and besides, as every one knows, the work of a house must go on, no matter what guest opens the door. But Katherine longed and watched and feared. Surely her friend would not go away without some private token or message for her. She turned sick at heart when she rose as if to depart. But Mrs. Gordon proved herself equal to the emergency; for, after bidding madam an effusive good-by, she turned suddenly and said, "Pray allow your daughter to show me the many ornaments in your parlour. The glimpse I had has made me very impatient to see them more particularly."

The request was one entirely in sympathy with the mood and the previous conversation, and madam was pleased to gratify it; also pleased, that, having fully satisfied the claims of social life, she could with courtesy leave her visitor's further entertainment with Katherine, and return to her regular domestic cares. To her the visit had appeared to be one of such general interest, that she never suspected any motive beneath or beyond the friendliness it implied. Yet the moment the parlour-door had been shut, Mrs. Gordon lifted Katharine's face between her palms, and said,--

"Faith, child, I am almost run off my head with all the fine things I have listened to for your sake. Do you know _who_ sent me here?"

"I think, madam, Captain Hyde."

"Psha! Why don't you blush, and stammer, and lie about it? 'I think, madam, Captain Hyde,'" mimicking Katherine's slight Dutch accent. "'Tis to be seen, miss, that you understand a thing or two. Now, Captain Hyde wishes to see you; when can you oblige him so much?"

"I know not. To come to Madam Semple's is forbidden me by my father."

"It is on my account. I protest your father is very uncivil."

"Madam, no; but it is the officers; many come and go, and he thinks it is not good for me to meet them."

"Oh, indeed, miss, it is very hard on Captain Hyde, who is more in love than is reasonable Has your father forbidden you to walk down your garden to the river-bank?"

"No, madam."

"Then, if Captain Hyde pa.s.s about two o'clock, he might see you there?"

"At two I am busy with Joanna."

"La, child! At three then?"

"Three?"

The word was a question more than an a.s.sent; but Mrs. Gordon a.s.sumed the a.s.sent, and did not allow Katharine to contradict it. "And I promised to bring him a token from you,--he was exceedingly anxious about that matter; give me the ribbon from your hair."