"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 pa.s.sionate 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Hyde flung off the touch with a pa.s.sionate 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 gla.s.ses 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 bra.s.s 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sing, 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 a.s.sure 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 s.p.a.ce, 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 a.s.sembly 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 pa.s.sionate affection.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 superst.i.tious 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 embarra.s.s 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 b.u.t.tons, 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.