The Maid of Maiden Lane

by Amelia E. Barr

  CHAPTER V

  TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF

  When Hyde awakened, he was in that borderland between dreams and daywhich we call dawn. And as the ear is the last sense to go to sleep,and the first sense to throw off its lethargy, the voices of mencalling "Milk Ho!" and the shrill childish cries of "Sweep Ho!" werethe first intruders into that pleasant condition between sleeping andwaking, so hard for any of us to leave without a sigh of regret. Thesesounds were quickly supplemented by the roll of the heavy carts whichpurveyed the only water suitable for drinking and culinary purposes;and by the sounds of wood-sawing and wood-chopping before the doors ofthe adjacent houses--sounds quickly blending themselves with theshuffling feet of the slaves cleaning the doorsteps and sidewalks, andchattering, singing, quarrelling the while with their neighbours, orwith other early ministers to the city's domestic wants.

  These noises had never before made any impression on him. "I am morealive than ever I was in my life," he said; and he laughed gayly, andwent to the window. "It is a lovely day; and that is so much in myfavour," he added, "for if it were raining, Cornelia would not leavethe house." Then a big man, with a voice like a bull of Bashan, wentdown the opposite side of the street, shouting as he went--"Milk Ho!"and Hyde considered him. He had a heavy wooden yoke across hisshoulders; and large tin pails, full of milk, hanging from it.

  "How English we are!" he exclaimed, with a touch of irony. "We have notthrown off the yoke, by any means--at Mr. Adams', for instance, I couldbelieve myself in England. How exclusive is the pompous littleMinister! What respect for office! What adoration for landed gentry!What supercilious tolerance for tradesmen! Oh, indeed, it confounds me!But why should I trouble myself? I, who have the most adorable mistressin the world to think about! What are the kings, presidents, ministers,knaves of the world to me? Let Destiny shuffle them back and forth. Iam indifferent to whichever is trumps."

  Then he fell into a reverie about his proposed visit to Mrs. Adams.Last night it had appeared to him an easy and natural thing to do. Hewas not so sure of his position this morning. Mr. Adams might bepresent; he was punctilious in the extreme, and a call without aninvitation at that early hour might be considered animpertinence--especially if he had no opportunity to enlighten Mrs.Adams about his love for Miss Moran, and so ask her assistance. Then hebegan to doubt whether his mother was on sufficient terms of intimacyto warrant his speaking about the swans and laburnum seeds--in short,the visit that had seemed so natural and proper when he first conceivedit, assumed, on reflection, an aspect of difficulty and almost ofimpropriety.

  But there are times when laissez-aller carries all before it, and Hydewas in just such a mood. "I'll run the chance," he said. "I'll risk it.I'll let things take their course." Then he began to dress, and asdoubt of any kind is best ended by action, he gathered confidence as hedid so. Fortunately, there was no hesitation this morning in his mindabout his dress. He was going to ride to Richmond Hill, and he wasquite satisfied with his riding suit. He knew that it was the nextthing to a becoming uniform. He knew that he looked well in it; and heremembered with complaisance that it was old enough to be individual;and new enough to be handsome and striking.

  And, after all, when a man is in love, to be reasonable is often to becowardly. But Hyde was no coward; so then, it was not long ere he putall fears and doubts behind him and set his musings to the assertion:"I said to my heart, last night, that I would meet Cornelia at RichmondHill this morning. I will not go back on my word. Such fluctuability isonly fit for failure."

  When he was dressed he went to his hotel and breakfasted there; for the"cup of coffee" he had intended to ask of Mrs. Adams appeared, now, alittle presumptuous. In the enthusiasm of the previous night, withCornelia's smiles warming his imagination and her words thrilling hisheart, everything had seemed possible and natural; but last night andthis morning were different epochs. Last night, he had been better,stronger than himself; this morning, he felt all the limitations ofsocial conveniences and tyrannies. Early as it was, there were manymembers and senators present--eating, drinking coffee, and talking ofFranklin, or of the question of the Senate sitting with closed doors,or of some other of the great little subjects then agitating society.Hyde took no notice of any of these disputes until a man--evidently anEnglishman--called Franklin "a beggar-on-horseback-Yankee." Then he putdown his knife and fork, and looked steadily at the speaker, sayingwith the utmost coolness and firmness--

  "You are mistaken, sir. The beggar-on-horseback is generally supposedto ride to the devil. Franklin rode to the highest posts of politicalhonour and to the esteem and affection of worthy men in all thecivilized world."

  "I understand, I understand, sir," was the reply. "The infatuation of anation for some particular genius or leader is very like that of a manfor an ugly woman. When they do get their eyes opened, they wonder whatbewitched them."

  "Sir, what is unreasonable is irrefutable." With these words he rose,pushed aside his chair with a little temper, and, turning, metJefferson face to face. The great man smiled, and put his handaffectionately on Hyde's shoulder. He had evidently heard theconversation, for when he had made the usual greetings, he added--

  "You spoke well, my young friend. Now, I will give you a piece ofadvice--when any one abuses a great man in your presence, ask them whatkind of people, THEY admire. You will certainly be consoled." Withthese words he took Hyde's chair; and Hyde, casting his eyes a momenton this tall, loose-limbed man, whose cold blue eyes and red hairemphasized the stern anger of his whole appearance, was well disposedto leave the scurrilous Englishman to his power of reproof. Besides,the badge of mourning which Jefferson wore had reminded him of his ownneglect. Probably, it was the want of this badge that had made thestranger believe he was speaking to one who would sympathize with hisviews.

  So he went at once to his tailor's and procured the necessary band ofcrape for his arm. But these events took time, and though he rode hardafterwards, it was quite half-past nine when he drew rein at the doorof Richmond Hill. A slave in a fine livery was lounging there; and hegave him his card. In a few moments the man returned with an invitationto dismount and come into the breakfast-room. Thus far, he had sufferedhimself to be carried forward by the impulse of his heart; and he stillput firmly down any wonder as to what he should say or do.

  He was shown into a bright little parlour with open windows. A table,elegantly and plentifully spread, occupied the centre of the room; andsitting at it were the Vice-President and Mrs. Adams; and also theironly daughter, the beautiful, but not very intellectual, Mrs. Smith. Itwas easy to see that the meal was really over, and that the trio hadbeen simply lingering over the table because of some interestingdiscussion; and it was quite as easy to understand that his entrancehad put an end to the conversation. Mrs. Adams met him with genuine,though formal, kindness; Mrs. Smith with courtesy; and theVice-President rose, bowed handsomely, hoped he was well, and thenafter a minute's reflection said--

  "We were talking about the official title proper for GeneralWashington. What do you think, Lieutenant? Or have you heard GeneralHyde express any opinion on the subject?"

  "Sir, I do not presume to understand the ceremonials of government. Myfather is of the opinion, that 'The President of the United States' hasa Roman and republican simplicity, and that any addition to it would bederogatory and childish."

  "My dear young man, the eyes of the world are upon us. To give a titleto our leaders and rulers belongs to history. In the Roman republicgreat conquerors assumed even distinctive titles, as well as nationalones."

  "Then our Washington is superior to them. Let us be grateful that hehas not yet called himself--Americanus. I like Doctor Kunz's idea ofWashington best, but I see not how it could be put into a civil title."

  "Doctor Kunz! Doctor Kunz! Oh yes, of the Dutch congregation. Pray whatis it?"

  "'And there came up a lion out of Judah.' My grandfather is an elder inthat church, and he said the verse and the sermon on it lifted thepeople to their feet."

&
nbsp; "That might do very well for one side of a state seal; but it is aproper prefix we need. I don't think we can say 'Your Majesty thePresident.'"

  "I should think not," replied Mrs. Adams with an air of decision.

  "Chief Justice McKean thinks 'His Serene Highness the President of theUnited States' is very suitable. Roger Sherman is of the opinion thatneither 'His Highness' nor 'His Excellency' are novel and dignifiedenough; and General Muhlenberg says Washington himself is in favour of'High Mightiness,' the title used by the Stadtholder of Holland."

  "That would please the Dutch-Americans," said Mrs. Adams--"if a titleat all is necessary, which I confess I cannot understand. Is it to be'High Mightiness' then?" she asked with a little laugh.

  "I think not. Muhlenberg, however, has seriously offended the Presidentby making a joke of the proposition; and I must say, it was ill-timedof Muhlenberg, and not what I should have expected of him."

  "But what was the joke?"

  "Something to the effect that if the office was certain to be held bymen as large as Washington, the title of 'High Mightiness' would not beamiss; but that if a little man--say like Aaron Burr--should beelected, the title would be a ridiculous one. The fact is, Muhlenbergis against any title whatever but that of 'President of the UnitedStates.'"

  "And how will you vote, John?"

  "In favour of a title. Certainly, I shall. Your Majesty is a very goodprefix. It would draw the attention of England, and show her that wewere not afraid to assume 'the majesty' of our conquest."

  "And if you wish to please France," continued Mrs. Adams--"which seemsthe thing in fashion--you might have the prefix 'Citizen.' 'CitizenWashington' is not bad."

  "It is execrable, Mrs. Adams; and I am ashamed that you should make it,even as a pleasantry."

  "Indeed, my friend, there is no foretelling what may be. The Frenchfever is rising every day. I even may be compelled to drop theoffensive 'Mistress' and call myself Citoyenne Adams. And, after all, Ido believe that the President regards his citizenship far above hisoffice. What say you, Lieutenant?"

  "I think, madame, that fifty, one hundred, one thousand years afterthis day, it will be of little importance what prefix is put before thename of the President. He will be simply GEORGE WASHINGTON in everyheart and on every page."

  "That is true," said Mrs. Adams. "Fame uses no prefixes. It is Pompey,Julius Caesar, Pericles, Alfred, Hampden, Oliver Cromwell. Or it is asuffix like Alexander the Great; or Richard Coeur-de-Lion. I have noobjection to Washington the Great, or Washington Coeur-de-Lion."

  "Washington will do for love and for fame," continued Hyde. "The nextgeneration may say MR. Madison, or MR. Monroe, or MR. Jay; but theywill want neither prefix nor suffix to Washington, Jefferson,Franklin,--and, if you permit me, sir--Adams."

  The Vice-president was much pleased. He said "Pooh! Pooh!" and stood upand stepped loftily across the hearth-rug, but the subtle complimentwent warm to his heart, and the real worth of the man's nature camestraight to the front, as he looked, under its influence, the honest,positive, honourable gentleman that every great occasion found him tobe.

  "Well, well," he answered; "heartily, and from our souls, we must doour best, and then trust to Truth and Time, our name and our memory.But I must now go to town--our affairs give us no holidays." And theninstantly the room was in a fuss and a flurry. No Englishman could havemade a more bustling exit; and, indeed, even in his physical aspect,John Adams was a perfect picture of the traditional John Bull. Hisnatural temperament carried out this likeness: high-mettled as agame-cock during the Revolutionary war, he was, in politics,passionate, dogmatic and unconciliating, and in social life ceremoniousand showy as any Englishman could be.

  After he had gone, Mrs. Adams proposed a walk in the lovely garden; andHyde hoped then to obtain a few words with her. But Mrs. Smithaccompanied them, and introduced immediately a grievance she hadevidently been previously discussing. With a provoking petulance shetold and re-told some slight which Sir John Temple had offered Mr.Smith: adding always "Lady Temple is very civil to me; but I cannot,and I will not, exchange visits with any lady who does not pay myWilliam an equal civility." Enlarging and enlarging on this text, Hydefound no opportunity to get a word in on his own affairs; and then,suddenly, as they turned into the main avenue, Doctor Moran andCornelia appeared.

  Quite as suddenly, Mrs. Adams divined the motive of Hyde's early visit;she opened her eyes wide, and looked at him with a comprehension soclear and real that Hyde was compelled to answer, and acknowledge hersuspicion by a look and movement quite as unequivocal. Yet thisinstantaneous understanding contained neither promise nor sympathy; andhe could not tell whether he had gained a friend or simply made aconfession.

  Doctor Moran was evidently both astonished and annoyed. He stepped outof his carriage and joined Mrs. Adams but kept Cornelia by his side, sothat Hyde was compelled to escort Mrs. Smith. And Cornelia, beyond avery civil "Good-morning, sir," gave him no sign. He could watch herslight, virginal figure, and the bend of her head in answering Mrs.Adams gave him transient glimpses of her fair face; but there was nomessage in all its changes for him. In fact, in spite of Mrs. Smith'slittle rill of social complaining, he felt quite "out" of the innercircle of the company's interests, and he was also deeply mortified atCornelia's apparent indifference.

  When the party reached the steps before the house door, though Mrs.Adams certainly invited him to remain, he had come to the conclusionthat he was just the one person NOT wanted at that time; yet as he hadplenty of self-command he completely hid beneath a gay and charmingmanner the chagrin and disappointment that were really tormenting him.For one moment he caught Cornelia's eyes, but his glance was too rapidand inquisitive. She was embarrassed, and a little frightened by it;and with a deep blush turned towards Mrs. Smith and said somethingtrivial about the weather and the fine view. He could not understandthis attitude. Feelings of tenderness, anger, mortification,--feelingsstrong and threefold crowded his beating heart and vivid brain. Helonged to set his restless thoughts to rapid movement--to gallop--toejaculate--to do any foolish thing that would relieve his sense ofvexation and defeat. But until he was out of sight and hearing he rodeslowly, with the easy air of a man who was only sensitive to the beautyof his surroundings, and thoroughly enjoying them.

  He kept this pace till quite outside the precincts of Richmond Hill,then he struck his horse with a passion that astonished the animal andthe next moment shamed himself. He stooped instantly and apologized tothe quivering creature; and was as instantly forgiven. Then he began totalk to himself in those elliptical, unfinished sentences, which theinner man understands, and so thoroughly finishes--"If I were notmorally sure--It is as plain as can be--How in the name ofwonder?--I'll say so much for myself--I am sorry that I went there--Acouple of uninteresting women--This for you, sir!--Whistled myself upthis morning on a fool's errand--No more! no more to save mylife!--Grant me patience--Mrs. Smith giving herself a parcel ofairs--Oh, adorable Cornelia!"

  Such reflections, blended with pet names and apologies to his horse,brought him in sight of the Van Heemskirk house, and he instantly felthow good his grandmother's sympathy would be. He saw her at the door,leaning over the upper-half and watching his approach.

  "I knew it was thee!" she cried; "always, the clatter of thy horse'shoofs says plainly to me, 'Grand-moth-er! grand-moth-er!grand-moth-er!' Now, then, what is the matter with thee? Disappointed,wert thou last night?"

  "No--but this morning I have been badly used; and I am angry at it."Then he told her all the circumstances of his visit to Richmond Hill,and she listened patiently, as was her way with all complainers.

  "In too great haste art thou," were her first words. "No worse I thinkof Cornelia, because a little she draws back. To want, and to have thywant, that has been the way with thee all thy life long. Even thy swordand the battlefield were not denied thee; but a woman's love!--that isto be won. Little wouldst thou value it, lightly wouldst thou hold it,if it were thine for the wishing. Thy mother has taught
thee to expecttoo much."

  "And my grandmother?"

  "That is so. A very foolish old woman is thy grandmother. Too much sheloves thee, or she had not sent thee to Arenta's last night with herbest ivory winders."

  "Oh, Arenta is a very darling! Had she been present this morning, shehad taken the starch out of all our fine talk and fine manners. Weshould have chattered like the swallows about pleasant homely things;and left title-making to graver fools."

  "If, now, thou had fallen in love with Arenta, it had been a goodthing."

  "If I had not seen Cornelia, I might have adored Arenta--but, then,Arenta has already a lover."

  "So? And pray who is it?"

  "Of all men in the world, the gay, handsome Frenchman, AthanaseTounnerre, a member of the French embassy. How a girl so plainly Dutchcan endure the creature confounds me."

  "Stop a little. The grandmother of Arenta was French. Very well Iremember her--a girl all alive, from head to foot; never still. Thygrandfather used to say, 'In her veins is quick-silver, not blood,'And, too soon, she wore away her life; Arenta's mother was but a baby,when she died."

  "Ah! So it is! We are the past, as well as the present. As for myself--"

  "Thou art thy father over again; only sweeter, and better--that is theDutch in thee--the happy, easy-going Dutch--if only thou wert not solazy."

  "That is the English in me--the self-indulgent, masterful English. Sothen, Arenta, being partly French, back to the French she goes. 'Tispassing strange."

  "Of this, art thou sure?"

  "I have listened to the man. Every one has. He wears Arenta's name onhis sleeve. He drinks her health in all companies. He will talk to anystranger he meets, for an hour at a time, about his 'fair Arenta.' Ican but wonder at the fellow. It is inconceivable to me; for though Iam passionately taken with Cornelia Moran, I hide her close in myheart. I should want to strike any man who breathed her name. Yet it issaid of Athanase de Tounnerre that he paid a visit to every one heknew, in order to tell them of his felicity."

  "And her father? To such a marriage what will he say?"

  Hyde stretched out his legs and struck them lightly with his ridingwhip. Then, with a smile, he answered, "He will be proud enough in hisheart. Arenta would certainly leave him soon, and the Dutch are verysensible to the charm of a title. His daughter, the Marquise deTounnerre, will be a very great woman in his eyes."

  "That is the truth. I was glad for thy mother to be a lady, and go toCourt, and see the Queen. Yes, indeed! in my heart I was proud of it'Twas about that very thing poor Janet Semple and I became unfriends."

  "Indeed, it is the common failing; and at present, there is no one likethe French. I will except the President, and Mr. Adams, and Mr.Hamilton, and say the rest of us are French mad."

  "Thy grandfather, and thy grandmother too, thou may except. And as forthy father, with a great hatred he names them."

  "My father is English; and the English and French are natural andsalutary enemies. I once heard Lord Exmouth say that France was toEngland all that Carthage was to Rome--the natural outlet for thetemper of a people so quarrelsome that they would fight each other ifthey had not the French to fight."

  "Listen! That is thy father's gallop. Far off, I know it. So early inthe morning, what is he coming for?"

  "He had an intention to go to Mr. Semple's funeral."

  "That is good. Thy grandfather is already gone--" and she looked sopointedly down at her black petticoat and bodice, that Hyde answered--

  "Yes; I see that you are in mourning. Is it for Mr. Franklin, or forMr. Semple?"

  "Franklin was far off; by my fireside Alexander Semple often sat; andat my table often he ate. Good friends were we once--good friends arewe now; for all but Love, Death buries."

  At this moment General Hyde entered the room. Hurry and excitement werein his face, though they were well controlled. He gave his hand toMadame Van Heemskirk, saying--

  "Good-morning, mother! You look well, as you always do:"--then turningto his son and regarding the young man's easy, smiling indifference, hesaid with some temper, "What the devil, George, are you doing here, soearly in the day? I have been through the town seekingyou--everywhere--even at that abominable Club, where Frenchmen andvagabonds of all kinds congregate."

  "I was at the Vice-President's, sir," answered George, with a comicalassumption of the Vice-President's manner.

  "You were WHERE?"

  "At Richmond Hill. I made an early call on Mrs. Adams."

  Then General Hyde laughed heartily. "You swaggering dandy!" he replied."Did you take a bet at the Belvedere to intrude on His Loftiness? Andhave you a guinea or two on supping a cup of coffee with him? Upon myhonour, you must now be nearly at the end of your follies. Mother,where is the Colonel?"

  "He has gone to Elder Semple's house. You know--"

  "I know well. For a long time I have purposed to call on the oldgentleman, and what I have neglected I am now justly denied. I meant,at least, to pay him the last respect; but even that is to-dayimpossible. For I must leave for England this afternoon at fiveo'clock, and I have more to do than I can well accomplish."

  George leaped to his feet at these words. Nothing could have been moreunexpected; but that is the way with Destiny, her movements are everunforeseen and inevitable. "Sir," he cried, "what has happened?"

  "Your uncle is dying--perhaps dead. I received a letter this morningurging me to take the first packet. The North Star sails thisafternoon, and I do not wish to miss her, for she flies Englishcolours, and they are the only ones the Barbary pirates pretend torespect. Now, George, you must come with me to Mr. Hamilton's office;we have much business to arrange there; then, while I pay a farewellvisit to the President, you can purchase for me the things I shallrequire for the voyage."

  So far his manner had been peremptory and decided, but, suddenly, asweet and marvellous change occurred. He went close to Madame VanHeemskirk, and taking both her hands, said in a voice full of thosetones that captivate women's hearts--

  "Mother! mother! I bid you a loving, grateful farewell! You have everbeen to me good, and gentle, and wise--the very best of mothers. Godbless you!" Then he kissed her with a solemn tenderness, and Lysbetunderstood that he believed their parting to be a final one. She satdown, weeping, and Hyde with an authoritative motion of the head,commanding his son's attendance, went hastily out. It was then eleveno'clock, and there was business that kept both men hurrying here andthere until almost the last hour. It had been agreed that they were tomeet at the City Hotel at four o'clock; and soon after that hourGeneral Hyde joined his son. He looked weary and sad, and beganimmediately to charge George concerning his mother.

  "We parted with kisses and smiles this morning," he said; "and I amglad of it; if I went back, we should both weep; and a wet parting isnot a lucky one. I leave her in your charge, George; and when I sendher word to come to England, look well to her comfort. And be sure tocome with her. Do you hear me?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "On no account--even if she wishes it--permit her to come alone.Promise me."

  "I promise you, sir. What is there that I would not do for my mother?What is there I would not do to please you, sir?"

  "Let me tell you, George, such words are very sweet to me. As toyourself, I do not fear for you. It is above, and below reason, thatyou should do anything to shame your kindred, living or dead--theliving indeed, you might reconcile; the dead are implacable; and theirvengeance is to be feared."

  "I fear not the dead, and I love the living. The honour of Hyde is safein my keeping. If you have any advice to give me, sir, pray speakplainly."

  "With all my soul. I ask you, then, to play with some moderation. I askyou to avoid any entanglement with women. I ask you to withdrawyourself, as soon as possible, from those blusterers for Frenchliberty--or rather French license, robbery, and assassination--I tellyou there is going to be a fierce national fracas on the subject. Standby the President, and every word he says. Every word is sure to be wiseand right."


  "Father, I learnt the word 'Liberty' from your lips. I drew my swordunder your command for 'Liberty.' I know not how to discard an ideathat has grown into my nature as the veining grows into the wood."

  "Liberty! Yes; cherish it with your life-blood. But France has pollutedthe name and outraged the idea. Neither you nor I can wish to be sweptinto the common sewers, being by birth, nobles and aristocrats. EarlStanhope, who was heart and soul with the French Revolution while itwas a movement for liberty, has just scratched his name with his ownhand from the revolutionary Club. And Burke, who was once its mostenthusiastic defender, has now written a pamphlet which has given it,in England, a fatal blow. This news came in my letters to-day." Thentaking out his watch, he rose, saying, "Come, it is time to go to theship--MY DEAR GEORGE!"

  George could not speak. He clasped his father's hand, and then walkedby his side to Coffee House Slip, where the North Star was lying. Therewas no time to spare, and the General was glad of it; for oh, theselast moments! Youth may prolong them, but age has lost youth's rebound,and willingly escapes their disintegrating emotion. Before eitherrealized the fact, the General had crossed the narrow plank; it wasquickly withdrawn; the anchor was lifted to the chanty of "Homewardbound boys," and the North Star, with wind and tide in her favour, wasfacing the great separating ocean.

  George turned from the ship in a maze. He felt as if his life had beencut sharply asunder; at any rate, its continuity was broken, and whatother changes this change might bring it was impossible to foresee. Inany extremity, however, there is generally some duty to do; and thedoing of that duty is the first right step onward. Without reasoning onthe matter, George followed this plan. He had a letter to deliver tohis mother; it was right that it should be delivered as soon aspossible; and indeed he felt as if her voice and presence would be thebest of all comfort at that hour; so late as it was, he rode out toHyde Manor. His mother, with a lighted candle in her hand, opened thedoor for him.

  "I thought it was thy father, Joris," she said; "but what? Is thereanything wrong? Why art thou alone?"

  "There is nothing wrong, dear mother. Come, I will tell you what hashappened."

  Then she locked the door carefully, and followed her son into the smallparlour, where she had been sitting. He gave her his father's letter,and assumed for her sake, the air of one who has brought good tidings.She silently read, and folded it; and George said, "It was the mostfortunate thing, the North Star being ready for sea. Father couldhardly have had a better boat; and they started with wind and tide intheir favour. We shall hear in a few weeks from him. Are you notpleased, mother?"

  "It is too late, Joris;--twenty years too late. And I wish not to go toEngland. Very unhappy was I in that cold, grey country. Very happy am Ihere."

  "But you must have expected this change?"

  "Not until your cousin died was there any thought of such a thing. Andlong before that, we had built and begun to love dearly this home. Iwish, then, it had been God's will that your cousin had not died."

  "My father--"

  "Ah, Joris, your father has always longed in his heart for England.Like a weaning babe that never could be weaned was he. In many ways, hehas lately shown me that he felt himself to be a future English earl.And thou too? Wilt thou become an Englishman? Then this fair home Ihave made for thee will forget thy voice and thy footstep. Woe is me! Ihave planted and planned, for whom I know not."

  "You have planned and planted for your Joris. I swear to you that Ilike England as little as you do. I despise the tomfoolery of courtsand ceremonies. I count an earl no better than any other honourablegentleman. I desire most of all to marry the woman I love, and livehere in the home that reminds me of you wherever I turn. I want yourlikeness on the great stairway, and in all the rooms; so that those whomay never see your face may love you; and say, 'How good she looks! Howbeautiful she is!'"

  "So true art thou! So loving! So dear to me! Even in England I can behappy if I think of thee Here--filling these big rooms with goodcompany; riding, shooting, over thine own land, fishing in thy ownwaters, telling thy boys and girls how dear grandmother had this ponddug--this hedge planted--these woods filled with game--these streamsset with willows--these summerhouses built for pleasure. Oh, I havethought ever as I worked, I shall leave my memory here--and here--andhere again--for never, Joris, never, dear Joris, while thou art in thisworld, must thou forget me!"

  "Never! Never, oh never, dear, dear mother!"

  And that night they said no more. Both felt there would be plenty oftime in the future to consider whatever changes it might have in storefor them.