The Bow of Orange Ribbon - Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (best book club books of all time txt) 📗

is the beloved of all the daughters of God. A blessing to my house she will bring."

"That is not what the world says, Bram. No, my son. It is thus, and like it: that God is angry with His people, and for that He has scattered them through all the nations of the earth."

"Such folly is that! To colonize, to 'take possession' of the whole earth, is what the men of Israel have always intended. Long before the Christ was born in Bethlehem, the Jews were scattered throughout every known country. I will say that to the dominie. It is the truth, and he cannot deny it."

"But surely God is angry with them."

"I see it not. If once He was angry, long ago He has forgiven His people. 'To the third and fourth generation' only is His anger. His own limit that is. Who have such blessings? The gold and the wine and the fruit of all lands are theirs. Their increase comes when all others' fail. God is not angry with them. The light of His smile is on the face of Miriam. He teaches her father how to traffic and to prosper. Do not the Holy Scriptures say that the blessing, not the anger, of the Lord maketh rich?"

"Well, then, my son, all this is little to the purpose, if she will not have thee for her husband. But be not easy to lose thy heart. Try once more."

"Useless it would be. Miriam is not one of those who say 'no' and then 'yes.'"

"Nearly two years you have known her. That was long to keep you in hope and doubt. I think she is a coquette."

"You know her not, mother. Very few words of love have I dared to say. We have been friends. I was happy to stand in the store and talk to Cohen, and watch her. A glance from her eyes, a pleasant word, was enough. I feared to lose all by asking too much."

"Then, why did you ask her to-night? It would have been better had your father spoken first to Mr. Cohen."

"I did not ask Miriam to-night. She spared me all she could. She was in the store as I passed, and I went in. This is what she said to me, 'Bram, dear Bram, I fear that you begin to love me, because I think of you very often. And my grandfather has just told me that I am promised to Judah Belasco, of London. In the summer he will come here, and I shall marry him.' I wish, mother, you could have seen her leaning against the black _kas_; for between it and her black dress, her face was white as death, and beautiful and pitiful as an angel's."

"What said you then?"

"Oh, I scarce know! But I told her how dearly I loved her, and I asked her to be my wife."

"And she said what to thee?"

"'My father I must obey. Though he told me to slay myself, I must obey him. By the God of Israel, I have promised it often.'"

"Was that all, Bram?"

"I asked her again and again. I said, 'Only in this one thing, Miriam, and all our lives after it we will give to him.' But she answered, 'Obedience is better than sacrifice, Bram. That is what our law teaches. Though I could give my father the wealth and the power of King Solomon, it would be worth less than my obedience.' And for all my pleading, at the last it was the same, 'I cannot do wrong; for many right deeds will not undo one wrong one.' So she gave me her hands, and I kissed them,--my first and last kiss,--and I bade her farewell; for my hope is over--I know that."

"She is a good girl. I wish that you had won her, Bram." And Lysbet put down her work and went to her son's side; and with a great sob Bram laid his head against her breast.

"As one whom his mother comforteth!" Oh, tender and wonderful consolation! It is the mother that turns the bitter waters of life into wine. Bram talked his sorrow over to his mother's love and pity and sympathy; and when she parted with him, long after the midnight, she said cheerfully, "Thou hast a brave soul, _mijn zoon, mijn Bram_; and this trouble is not all for thy loss and grief. A sweet memory will this beautiful Miriam be as long as thou livest; and to have loved well a good woman will make thee always a better man for it."


XII.

"The town's a golden, but a fatal, circle,
Upon whose magic skirts a thousand devils,
In crystal forms, sit tempting Innocence,
And beckoning Virtue from its centre."

The trusting, generous letter which Joris had written to his son-in-law arrived a few days before Hyde's departure for London. With every decent show of pleasure and gratitude, he said, "It is an unexpected piece of good fortune, Katherine, and the interest of five thousand pounds will keep Hyde Manor up in a fine style. As for the principal, we will leave it at Secor's until it can be invested in land. What say you?"

Katherine was quite satisfied; for, though naturally careful of all put under her own hands, she was at heart very far from being either selfish or mercenary. In fact, the silver cup was at that hour of more real interest to her. It would be a part of her old home in her new home. It was connected with her life memories, and it made a portion of her future hopes and dreams. There was also something more tangible about it than about the bit of paper certifying to five thousand pounds in her name at Secor's Bank.

But Hyde knew well the importance of Katherine's fortune. It enabled him to face his relatives and friends on a very much better footing than he had anticipated. He was quite aware, too, that the simple fact was all that society needed. He expected to hear in a few days that the five thousand pounds had become fifty thousand pounds; for he knew that rumour, when on the boast, would magnify any kind of gossip, favourable or unfavourable. So he was no longer averse to meeting his former companions: even to them, a rich wife would excuse matrimony. And, besides, Hyde was one of those men who regard money in the bank as a kind of good conscience: he really felt morally five thousand pounds the better. Full of hope and happiness, he would have gone at a pace to suit his mood; but English roads at that date were left very much to nature and to weather, and the Norfolk clay in springtime was so deep and heavy that it was not until the third day after leaving that he was able to report for duty.

His first social visit was paid to his maternal grandmother, the dowager Lady Capel. She was not a nice old woman; in fact, she was a very spiteful, ill-hearted, ill-tempered old woman, and Hyde had always had a certain fear of her. When he landed in London with his wife, Lady Capel had fortunately been at Bath; and he had then escaped the duty of presenting Katherine to her. But she was now at her mansion in Berkeley Square, and her claims upon his attention could not be postponed; and, as she had neither eyes nor ears in the evenings for any thing but loo or whist, Hyde knew that a conciliatory visit would have to be made in the early part of the day.

He found her in the most careless dishabille, wigless and unpainted, and rolled up comfortably in an old wadded morning-gown that had seen years of snuffy service. But she had out-lived her vanity. Hyde had chosen the very hour in which she had nothing whatever to amuse her, and he was a very welcome interruption. And, upon the whole, she liked her grandson. She had paid his gambling-debts twice, she had taken the greatest interest in his various duels, and sided passionately with him in one abortive love-affair.

"Dick is no milksop," she would say approvingly, when told of any of his escapades; "faith, he has my spirit exactly! I have a great deal more temper than any one would believe me capable of"--which was not the truth, for there were few people who really knew her ladyship who ever felt inclined to doubt her capabilities in that direction.

So she heard the rattle of Hyde's sword, and the clatter of his feet on the polished stairs, with a good deal of satisfaction. "I have him here, and I shall do my best to keep him here," she thought. "Why should a proper young fellow like Dick bury himself alive in the fens for a Dutchwoman? In short, she has had enough, and too much, of him. His grandmother has a prior claim, I hope, and then Arabella Suffolk will help me. I foresee mischief and amusement.--Well, Dick, you rascal, so you have had to leave America! I expected it. Oh, sir, I have heard all about you from Adelaide! You are not to be trusted, either among men or women. And pray where is the wife you made such a fracas about? Is she in London with you?"

"No, madam: she preferred to remain at Hyde, and I have no happiness beyond her desire."

"Here's flame! Here's constancy! And you have been married a whole year! I am struck with admiration."

"A whole year--a year of divine happiness, I assure you."

"Lord, sir! You will be the laughing-stock of the town if you talk in such fashion. They will have you in the play-houses. Pray let us forget our domestic joys a little. I hear, however, that your divinity is rich."

"She is not poor; though if"--

"Though if she had been a beggar-girl you would have married her, rags and all. Swear to that, Dick, especially when she brings you fifty thousand pounds. I'm very much obliged to her; you can hardly, for shame, put your fingers in my poor purse now, sir. And you can make a good figure in the world; and as your cousin Arabella Suffolk is staying with me, you will be the properest gallant for her when Sir Thomas is at the House."

"I am at yours and cousin Arabella's service, grandmother."

"Exactly so, Captain; only no more quarrelling and fighting. Learn your catechism, or Dr. Watts, or somebody. Remember that we have now a bishop in the family. And I am getting old, and want to be at peace with the whole world, if you will let me."

Hyde laughed merrily. "Why, grandmother, such advice from you! I don't trust it. There never was a more perfect hater than yourself."

"I know, Dick. I used to say, 'Lord, this person is so bad, and that person is so bad, I hate them!' But at last I found out that every one was bad: so I hate nobody. One cannot take a sword and run the whole town through. I have seen some very religious people lately; and you will find me very serious, and much improved. Come and go as you please, Dick: Arabella and you can be perfectly happy, I dare say, without minding me."

"What is the town doing now?"

"Oh, balls and dances and weddings and other follies! Thank the moon, men and women never get weary of these things!"

"Then you have not ceased to enjoy them, I hope."