"She has a good heart;" then suddenly, "come, come into my home, yes, come in and see her."

He walked toward the back of the shop and Neil followed him into a large, low room, where there was a table covered with a white cloth.

Another white cloth, folded lengthwise, shielded the bread and the china laid ready for the noonday meal. Cohen stood at the entrance and permitted Neil to pa.s.s in. As he did so, a small, dark Jew rose and bringing forward a chair, said, "Welcome be the guest."

"This is Mr. Belasco," said Cohen, and then Neil knew the woman who was standing behind Mr. Belasco's chair. It was the still beautiful Miriam.

The happiness of perfect love lighted the dusky white of her complexion and filled her glorious eyes. A brilliant silk kerchief was thrown over her black hair, and she wore a rich, flowing garment of many colors.

There were gems in her ears and around her neck, and her slim, brown fingers sparkled with sapphires and diamonds. Behind her was the whitewashed wall of a room on which was traced some black Hebrew characters--wise or comforting pa.s.sages from the Psalms or the Prophets; and on shelves of ordinary wood, a quant.i.ty of beautiful china, some silver vessels, and a copper lamp with seven beaks, brightly polished.

Before her sat Belasco, his swarthy face revealing both power and intellect, purposely veiled beneath a manner of almost obsequious deference. But his voice, like Cohen's, was full of those vague tones of softness and melody, of which Orientals preserve the eternal poetry, with the eternal secret. Outside, but within sight and hearing, was the vibrant, noisy, military life of New York--western turmoil--hurry of business--existence without pause; but here, in this grave, unornamented room, with its domestic simplicity and biblical air, was the very atmosphere of the East.

Neil, who really possessed the heart and the imagination of a poet, felt the vibration of the far-off life, and even while addressing Mr.

Belasco, had visions of palm-trees and of deserts and of long, long journeys with the caravans of camels, from oasis to oasis. He was standing amid the children of the patriarchs. These souls were of older race than himself; they had the n.o.blest of kindreds, a country that was the mother of nations.

With the ideal respect born of such thoughts he offered his hand to Mrs.

Belasco. Then she called her children and proudly exhibited them to Neil, and in a few moments a slave brought in a dish of lamb stewed with rice and herbs, some dates, a plate of little cakes strewed with caraway seeds, and some strong coffee. A roll of bread was at each plate, and Cohen broke his with Neil. Miriam did not eat with them; she waited silently on their wants, her face beaming with pleasure and goodwill.

And Neil felt as if he had suddenly pa.s.sed through a little wooden door into the life of the far East.

He said something like this, and Cohen answered, "G.o.d has said to us, as to His servant Abraham, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred. We are the wayfarers of the Eternal, confessing still, as Moses in the Law taught us--'a Syrian ready to perish was my father.'"

Deut. 26:5.

It was an unlooked-for and wonderful hour, and Neil left the shop of Jacob Cohen a very different being from the depressed, anxious man who had entered it an hour previously. His first thought was his father and mother, and he went to his office, wrote the following note, and sent a messenger with it to them:

MY HONORED AND BELOVED PARENTS: I have sold a plot of land in Mill Street for four hundred pounds, and the fines will be paid to-morrow. We shall not require to borrow a farthing from any one. Be at ease. I will come to you as soon as I have written the necessary transfer papers.

Your affectionate son, NEIL.

Then an unconquerable desire to see Agnes, or at least to do something for her, took entire possession of him; and he laid aside his business, and went as rapidly as possible to the Bradley house. But Agnes would not see him. She asked to be left alone, and Neil understood her need of solitude, and respected it. In Maiden Lane he met Lord Medway, who said, "I have been at your office seeking you, Mr. Semple. Young Bradley is to be put outside the city at two o'clock to-day."

"He is pardoned then, on what conditions?"

"He will be shot on sight if he comes within five miles of New York; and I fear he will not have a pleasant escort to the barricade."

"You mean that he will be drummed out by the military and a.s.saulted by the mob?"

"Yes, the court said, as a vagabond and spy and common rogue against His Majesty's government and interests."

"Oh! I suppose the court is right; there is nothing to be done."

"His father has sent a number of men with some message to all the respectable burghers he can influence; and I think Bradley can influence a great many, either through their fear of him, or their respect for him."

"What does he propose to do? He can not prevent this public demonstration, and he ought not to try to do so. His son has got off miraculously well. It is his place to submit and be grateful."

"He tells me the last man drummed out of town was nearly killed by the missiles thrown at him, and did lose the sight of one eye. He proposes to prevent the mob's playfulness, if he can."

"But how?"

"He has asked a number of the tradesmen and merchants in the city to send their apprentices and clerks, and thus, by influence and example, keep the unruly element in check. No one can prevent their presence. In fact, good citizens are expected to countenance the rogue's punishment.

I may show myself at some point of the route," he added, with a laugh; "I have a little friend who may ask me about it," and he looked curiously at Neil, wondering if Maria had told him how the miracle had been performed which saved Harry's life.

But Neil made no sign, and Medway continued: "I wish you would dine with me this evening, Mr. Semple. I have something of importance to tell you. I dine at five, shall we say at The King's Arms. Afterward I will walk home with you, if I may."

"I will join you at five o'clock. What time does the young man begin his march, and from what point?"

"From Whitehall Slip to Dock Street, Hanover Square, Queen Street, Crown Street, William Street, King George Street to the Boston Road, and so to the eastern gate of the barrier. I rather think the companions of the journey will be few in number ere they reach the barrier. They start about two o'clock I believe. You will not forget dinner at five?"

Then the young men parted and Neil went to his office to consider his movements. Events had happened with a celerity that made him nervous and uncertain. He was used to method and plenty of time. Hurry, under any circ.u.mstances, destroyed his balance. Between his father and mother, Agnes, Maria, John Bradley and his son, Jacob Cohen and Lord Medway, he felt as if in a whirlwind. He wanted an hour of solitude in which to collect himself. But his office, that usually quiet, methodical place, was this day full of unrest. His partner was fuming at Harry Bradley's release, and wondering "what on earth was the use of the law, or the necessity for lawyers to interpret it?"

"There is now no necessity for either law or lawyers," answered Neil; "we may pack our books and lock our door."

"Neil, I have been thinking how I could manage to get two hundred for you."

"It is not necessary. I am sorry I spoke to you on the subject."

"I hope you have reconsidered the question of resignation."

"I sent in my resignation this morning."

"Of course the commissioners will include me with you."

"Not necessarily."

"Yes, necessarily; and I think you have been very selfish and unkind."

"My honor."

"My wife and children! They are of as much account as your honor."

Then Neil rose and went out again; there seemed no peace anywhere, he had scarcely reached the street when he heard in the distance the mocking strains of the drums and the fifes. They sounded so intolerable that he fled to his home to escape their cruel clamor. His mother saw his approach and was at the door to meet him. Her face looked strangely grey and thin, but it had something too of its old spirit and cheerfulness as she said:

"Neil, my dear lad, your letter set our old hearts singing. How did you manage it? Who helped you?"

"G.o.d and Jacob Cohen helped me," he answered. "The Jew has bought my land in Mill Street, and the strange thing is that he bought it out of respect and sympathy for my father. I am as sure of that as I am that Jacob Cohen is the only Christian in New York who remembered us for past kindness or cared for us in present trouble. I want to rest an hour, mother; I have an appointment with Lord Medway at five o'clock, and I feel like a leaf that has been blown hither and thither by the wind for two days. You might tell Maria that Agnes Bradley's brother will be outside of New York, a free man, in an hour."

"I am glad he is out o' our life, anyway. Much sorrow and loss he has brought us, and you will see that Maria's good name will be none the better for being mixed up with the affair."

"That is Macpherson's fault. For her sake, and for your sake, he might have held his tongue. I will not forgive him."

"His duty, Neil----"

"Nonsense! He could have given the information without bringing in Maria's name. He was mad with wounded vanity, it was a miserable, cowardly bit of revenge."

"I don't think he is a coward."

"He is; any man is a coward who takes his spite out on a woman, and you have been so kind, so motherly to him. He is a disgrace to the tartan: but I want an hour's rest, and tell father to be perfectly easy about the money. I shall have it in the morning. It rests on Cohen's word; I know no better human security."

"Are you not hungry?"

"I had dinner with the Cohens, a simple, excellent meal."

"The world is tapsalteerie; I wonder at nothing that happens. Did you see the young man? I mean Bradley's son?"