"Then they ought to know; but for many years I have been saying, 'England was mad'; and she grows no wiser."

"Englishmen move so slowly."

"Of course. All the able Englishmen are on this side of the Atlantic.

Lord! how many from the other side could be changed for the one Great One on this side. What do you think? It was my silk, lace, ribbons and fallals Harry Bradley was taking across the river. The little vanities were for my old friend Martha. I am sorry she missed them."

Neil looked at her with an admiring smile. "How do you manage?" he asked.

"I have arranged my politics long since, and quite to my satisfaction.

So has Jacobus. He left New York flying the English flag, but the ocean has a wonderful influence on him; his political ideas grow large and free there; he becomes--a different man. Society has the same effect on me. When I see American women put below that vulgar Mrs. Reidesel----"

"Oh, no, Madame!"

"Oh, yes, sir. In the fashionable world we are all naught unless Mrs.

General Reidesel figures before us; then, perhaps, we may acquire a kind of value. See how she is queening it in General Tryron's fine mansion.

And then, this foreign mercenary, Knyphausen, put over American officers and American citizens! It is monstrous! Not to be endured! I only bear it by casting my heart and eyes to the Jersey Highlands. There our natural ruler waits and watches; here, we wait and watch, and some hour, it must be, our hopes shall touch G.o.d's purposes for us. For that hour we secretly pray. It is not far off." And Neil understood, as he met her shining eyes and radiant smile, that there are times when faith may indeed have all the dignity of works.

Then the young man, inexpressibly cheered and strengthened, went rapidly home; and when Madame heard her son's steps on the garden walk she knew that something pleasant had happened to him. And it is so often that fortune, as well as misfortune, goes where there is more of it that Neil was hardly surprised to see an extraordinarily cheerful group around an unusually cheerful fireside when he opened the parlor door. The Elder, smiling and serene, sat in his arm-chair, with his finger-tips placidly touching each other. Madame's voice had something of its old confident ring in it, and Maria, with heightened color and visible excitement, sat between her grandparents, an unmistakable air of triumph on her face.

"Come to the fire, Neil," said his mother, making a place for his chair.

"Come and warm yoursel'; and we'll hae a cup o' tea in ten or fifteen minutes."

"How cheerful the blazing logs are," he answered. "Is it some festival?

You are as delightfully extravagant as Madame Jacobus. Oh, if the old days were back again, mother!"

"They will come, Neil. But wha or what will bring us back the good days we hae lost forever out o' our little lives while we tholed this weary war? However, there is good news, or at least your father thinks so.

Maria has had an offer o' marriage, and her not long turned eighteen years auld, and from an English lord, and your father has made a bonfire o'er the matter, and I've nae doubt he would have likit to illuminate the house as weel."

The Elder smiled tolerantly. "Janet," he answered, "a handsome young man, without mair than his share o' faults and forty thousand pounds a year, is what I call a G.o.dsend to any girl. And I'm glad it has come to our little Maria. I like the lad. I like him weel. He spoke out like a man. He told me o' his castle and estate in Lancashire, and o' the great coal mines on it; the lands he owned in c.u.mberland and Kent, his town house in Belgrave Square, and forbye showed me his last year's rental, and stated in so many words what settlement he would make on Maria. And I'm proud and pleased wi' my new English grandson that is to be. I shall hold my head higher than ever before; and as for Matthews and Peter DuBois, they and their dirty Police Court may go to----, where they ought to have been years syne, but for G.o.d Almighty's patience; and I'll say nae worse o' them than that. It's a great day for the Semples, Neil, and I am wonderfully happy o'er it."

"It's a great day for the Medways," answered Madame. "I could see fine how pleased he was at the Gordon connection, for when I told him Colonel William Gordon, son o' the Earl o' Aberdeen--him wha raised the Gordon Highlanders a matter o' three years syne--was my ain first cousin, he rose and kissed my hand and said he was proud to call Colonel Gordon his friend. And he knew a' about the Gordons and the warlike Huntleys, and could even tell me that the fighting force o' the clan was a thousand claymores; a most intelligent young man! And though I dinna like the thought o' an Englishman among the Gordons, there's a differ even in Englishmen; some are less almighty and mair sensible than others."

"He spoke very highly o' the Americans," answered the Elder. "He said 'we were all o' one race, the children o' the same grand old mother.'"

"The Americans are obligated for his recognition," replied Madame a trifle scornfully. "To be sure, it's a big feather in our caps when Lord Medway calls cousins with us."

"What does Maria say?" asked Neil. And Maria raised her eyes to his with a look in them of which he only had the key. So to spare her talking on the subject, he continued: "I also have had a piece of good fortune to-day. I met Madame Jacobus, went home with her to dinner, and she has offered me the position of her business agent, with a salary of two hundred pounds a year."

"It's a vera springtide o' good fortune," said the Elder, "and I am a grateful auld man."

"Weel, then," cried Madame, "here comes the tea and the hot scones; and I ken they are as good as a feast. It's a thanksgiving meal and no less; come to the table wi' grateful hearts, children. I'm thinking the tide has turned for the Semples; and when the tide turns, wha is able to stop it?"

The turn of the tide! How full of hope it is! Not even Maria was inclined to shadow the cheerful atmosphere. Indeed, she was grateful to Lord Medway for the fresh, living element he had brought into the house.

Life had been gloomy and full of small mortifications to her since the unfortunate Bradley affair. Her friends appeared to have forgotten her, and the dancing and feasting and sleighing went on without her presence.

Even her home had been darkened by the same event; her grandfather had not quite recovered the shock of his arrest; her grandmother had made less effort to hide her own failing health. Neil had a heartache about Agnes that nothing eased, and the whole household felt the fear and pinch of poverty and the miserable uncertainty about the future.

Maria bore her share in these conditions, and she had also began to wonder and to worry a little over Lord Medway's apparent indifference.

If he really loved her, why did he not give her the recognition of his obvious friendship? His presence and attentions would at least place her beyond the spite and envy of her feminine rivals. Why did he let them have one opportunity after another to smile disdain on her presence, or to pointedly relegate her to the outer darkness of non-recognition? When she had examined all her slights and sorrows, Lord Medway's neglect was the most cutting thong in the social scourge.

Madame Jacobus, however, was correct in her opinion. Medway was making in these days of lonely neglect a progress which would have been impossible had he spent them at the girl's side. And if he had been aware of every feeling and event in the lives of the Semples, he could not have timed his hour of reappearance more fortunately, for not only was Maria in the depths of despondency, but the Elder had also begun to believe his position and credit much impaired. He had been pa.s.sed, avoided, curtly answered by men accustomed to defer to him; and he did not take into consideration the personal pressure on these very men from lack of money, or work, or favor; nor yet those accidental offenses which have no connection with the people who receive them. In the days of his prosperity he would have found or made excuses in every case, but a failing or losing man is always suspicious, and ready to antic.i.p.ate wrong.

But now! Now it would be different. As he drank his tea and ate his b.u.t.tered scone he thought so. "It will be good-morning, Elder. How's all with you? Have you heard the news? and the like of that. It will be a different call now." And he looked at Maria happily, and began to forgive her for the calamity she had brought upon them. For it was undeniable that even in her home she had been made to feel her responsibility, although the blame had never been voiced.

She understood the change, and was both happy and angry. She did not feel as if any one--grandfather, grandmother, Lord Medway, or Uncle Neil--had stood by her with the loyal faith they ought to have shown.

All of them had, more or less, suspected her of imprudence and reckless disregard of their welfare. All of them had thought her capable of ruining her family for a flirtation. Even Agnes, the beginning and end of all the trouble, had been cold and indifferent, and blamed, and left her without a word. And as she did not believe herself to have done anything very wrong, the injustice of the situation filled her with angry pain and dumb reproach.

Lord Medway's straightforward proposal cleared all the clouds away. It gave her a position at once that even her grandfather respected. She was no longer a selfish child, whose vanity and folly had nearly ruined her family. She was the betrothed wife of a rich and powerful n.o.bleman, and she knew that even socially reprisals of a satisfactory kind would soon be open to her. The dejected, self-effacing manner induced by her culpable position dropped from her like a useless garment; she lifted her handsome face with confident smiles; she was going, not only to be exonerated, but to be set far above the envy and jealousy of her enemies. For Medway had asked her to go sleighing with him on the following day, and she expected that ride to atone for many small insults and offenses.

Twice during the night she got up in the cruel cold to peep at the stars and the skies. She wanted a clear, sunny day, such a day as would bring out every sleigh in the fashionable world; and she got her desire. The sun rose brilliantly, and the cold had abated to just the desirable point; the roads, also, were in perfect condition for rapid sleighing, and at half-past eleven Medway entered the parlor, aglow with the frost and the rapid motion.

His fine presence, his hearty laugh, his genial manners, were irresistible. He bowed over Madame's hand, and then drew Maria within his embrace. "Is she not a darling? and may I take her for an hour or two, grandmother?" he asked. And Madame felt his address to be beyond opposition. He had claimed her kinship; he had called her "grandmother,"

and she gave him at once the key of her heart.

As they stood all three together before the fire, a servant man entered and threw upon the sofa an armful of furs. "I have had these made for you, Maria," said Medway. "Look here, my little one! Their equals do not exist outside of Russia." And he wrapped her in a cloak of the finest black fox lined with scarlet satin, and put on her head a hood of scarlet satin and black fox, and slipped her hands into a m.u.f.f of the same fur lined with scarlet satin; and when they reached the waiting sleigh he lifted her as easily as a baby into it, and seating himself beside her, off they went to the music in their hearts and the music in the bells; and the pace of the four horses was so great that Madame declared "all she could see was a bundle of black fur and flying scarlet ribbons."

That day Maria's cup of triumph was full and running over. Before they had reached the half-way house they had met the entire fashionable world of New York, and every member of it had understood that Maria Semple and Lord Medway would now have to be reckoned with together. For Medway spoke to no one and returned no greeting that did not include Maria in it. Indeed, his neglect of those who made this omission was so pointed that none could misconstrue it. Maria was, therefore, very happy. She had found a friend and a defender in her trouble, and she was, at least, warmly grateful to him. He could see it in her shining eyes, and feel it, oh, so delightfully! in her unconscious drawing closer and closer to him, so that finally his hands were clasping hers within the m.u.f.f of black fox, and his face was bending to her with that lover-like, protecting poise there was no mistaking.

"Are you satisfied, Maria? Are you happy?" he asked, when the pace slackened and they could talk a little.

"Oh, yes!" she answered. "But why did you wait so long? I was suffering.

I needed a friend; did you not understand?"

"But you had a sorrow I could not share. I did not blame you for it. It was but natural you should weep a little, for the young man had doubtless made some impression. He was a gallant fellow, and between life and death carried himself like a prince. I am glad I was able to save his life; but I did not wish to see you fretting about him; that was also natural."

She did not answer, nor did he seem to expect an answer. But she was pleased he did not speak slightingly of Harry. Had he done so, she felt that she would have defended him; and yet, in her deepest consciousness she knew this defense would have been forced and uncertain. The circ.u.mstances were too painful to be called from the abyss of past calamity. It was better everything should be forgotten. And with the unerring instinct of a lover, Medway quickly put a stop to her painful reverie by words that seldom miss a woman's appreciation. He told her how much he had longed to be with her; how tardily the weeks had flown; how happy it made him to see her face again. He called her beautiful, bewitching, the loveliest creature the sun shone on, and he said these things with that air of devoted respect which was doubly sweet to the girl, after the social neglect of the past weeks. Finally he asked her if she was cold, and she answered:

"How can I be cold? These exquisite furs are cold-proof. Where did you get them? I have never seen any like them before."

"I got them in St. Petersburg. I was there two years ago on a political emba.s.sy, and while I was waiting until you partly recovered yourself I had my long coat cut up and made for you. I am delighted I did it. You never looked so lovely in anything I have seen you wear. Do you like them, Maria, sweet Maria?"

She looked at him with a smile so ravishing that he had there and then no words to answer it. He spoke to the driver instead, and the horses bounded forward, and so rapid was the pace that the city was soon reached, and then her home. Neil was at the gate to meet them, and Medway lifted Maria out of the sleigh and gave her into his care. "I will not keep the horses standing now;" he said, "but shall I call to-morrow, Maria, at the same time?" And she said, "Yes," and "I have had a happy drive." So he bowed and went away in a dash of trampling horses and jingling bells, and Maria watched him a moment or two, being greatly impressed by his languid, yet masterful, air and manner, the result of wealth long inherited and of social station beyond question.

With a sigh--and she knew not why she sighed--Maria went into the house.

She was now quite forgiven; she could feel that she was once more loved without reservation, and also that she had become a person of importance. It was a happy change, and she did not inquire about it, or dampen the pleasure by asking for reasons. She took off her beautiful furs, showed them to her grandmother and grandfather, and told at what personal sacrifice Lord Medway had given them to her. And then, drawing close to the hearth, she described the people they had met, and the snubs and recognitions given and received. It was all interesting to Madame, and even to the Elder; the latter, indeed, was in extraordinary high spirits, and added quite as much salt and vinegar to the dish of gossip as either of the women.

In spite, therefore, of the bitter weather and the scarcity of all the necessaries of life, the world went very well again for the Semples; and though at the end of December, Clinton sailed southward, Lord Medway had a furlough for some weeks, so that in this respect the military movement did not interfere with Maria's social pleasures. Two days before the embarkment of the troops Colonel DeLancey called one morning on the Elder. He had sold a piece of property to the government, and in making out the t.i.tle information was wanted that only Elder Semple, who was the original proprietor, could give. DeLancey asked him, therefore, to drive back with him to the King's Arms and settle the matter, and the Elder was pleased to do so. Anything that took him among his old a.s.sociates and gave him a little importance was particularly agreeable, and in spite of the cold he went off in the highest spirits.

The King's Arms was soon reached, and he found in its comfortable parlor General Ludlow, Recorder John Watts, Jr., Treasurer Cruger, Commissioners DeGeist and Housewert, and Lawyer Spiegel. After Semple's arrival the business which had called them together was soon settled, and it being near noon, Ludlow called for a bottle of old port and some beef sandwiches. The room was warm and bright, the company friendly and well informed on political matters, and a second bottle was drunk ere they made a movement to break up the pleasant meeting. Then Ludlow arose, and for a few minutes they stood around the blazing fire, the Elder very happy in the exercise of his old influence and authority. But just as they were going to shake hands the door was flung open and Captain Macpherson appeared. For a moment he stood irresolute, then he suddenly made up his mind that he had chanced upon a great opportunity for placing himself right with the public, and so, advancing toward Elder Semple, who had pointedly turned his back upon him, he said:

"Elder, I am grateful for this fortunate occasion. I wish before these gentlemen to a.s.sure you that I did my duty with the most painful reluctance. I beg you to forgive the loss and annoyance this duty has caused you."

Then Semple turned to him. His eyes were flashing, his face red and furious. He looked thirty years younger than usual, as with withering scorn he answered:

_"Caitiff!_ Out of my sight!"

"No, sir," continued the foolish young man, "not until you listen to me.

As a soldier and a gentleman, I had a duty to perform."

"You hae covered the names o' 'soldier' and 'gentleman' wi' infamy.