The Maid of Maiden Lane by Amelia E. Barr (free novels to read TXT) 📗

the Battery; and I think I have stayed beyond the hour I ought to have stayed—but the weather was so delightful.”

“The weather is very delightful, and Lieutenant Hyde is very polite. Did he speak of the violets he sent you?”

“I suppose he forgot them. Ah, there they are! How beautiful! How fragrant! I will give them to you, mother.”

“They are your own, my dear. I would not give them away.”

Then Cornelia lifted them, and shyly buried her face in their beauty and sweetness; and afterwards took the card in her hand and read “Lieutenant George Hyde.” “But, mother,” she said, “Arenta called him Joris.”

“Joris is George, my dear.”

“Certainly, I had forgotten. Joris is the Dutch, George is the English form. I think I like George better.”

“As you have neither right nor occasion to call him by either name, it is of no consequence Take away your flowers and put them in water—the young man is very extravagant, I think. Do you know that it is quite noon, and your father will be home in a little while?”

And there was such kind intent, such a divining sympathy in the simple words, that Cornelia’s heart grew warm with pleasure; and she felt that her mother understood, and did not much blame her. At the same time she was glad to escape all questioning, and with the violets pressed to her heart, and her shining eyes dropped to them, she went with some haste to her room. There she kissed the flowers, one by one, as she put them in the refreshing water; and then, forgetting all else, sat down and permitted herself to enter the delicious land of Reverie. She let the thought of Hyde repossess her; and present again and again to her imagination his form, his face, his voice, and those long caressing looks she had seen and felt, without seeming to be aware of them.

A short time after Cornelia came home, Doctor Moran returned from his professional visits. As he entered the room, his wife looked at him with a curious interest. In the first place, the tenor of her thoughts led her to this observation. She wished to assure herself again that the man for whom she had given up everything previously dear to her was worthy of such sacrifice. A momentary glance satisfied her. Nature had left the impress of her nobility on his finely-formed forehead; nothing but truth and kindness looked from his candid eyes; and his manner, if a little dogmatic, had also an unmistakable air of that distinction which comes from long and honourable ancestry and a recognized position. He had also this morning an air of unusual solemnity, and on entering the room, he drew his wife close to his heart and kissed her affectionately, a token of love he was not apt to give without thought, or under every circumstance.

“You are a little earlier to day,” she said. “I am glad of it.”

“I have had a morning full of feeling. There is no familiarity with Death, however often you meet him.”

“And you have met Death this morning, I see that, John?”

“As soon as I went out, I heard of the death of Franklin. We have truly been expecting the news, but who can prepare for the final ‘He is gone.’ Congress will wear mourning for two months, I hear, and all good citizens who can possibly do so will follow their example. The flags are at half-mast, and there is sorrow everywhere.”

“And yet, John, why?” asked Mrs. Moran. “Franklin has quite finished his work; and has also seen the fruit of all his labours. Not many men are so happy. I, for one, shall rejoice with him, and not weep for him.”

“You are right, Ava. I must now tell you that Elder Semple died this morning. He has been long sick, but the end came suddenly at last.”

“The dear old man! He has been sick and sorrowful, ever since his wife died. Were any of his sons present?”

“None of them. The two eldest have been long away. Neil was obliged to leave New York when the Act forbidding Tory lawyers to practice was passed. But he was not quite alone, his old friend Joris Van Heemskirk was with him to the last moment. The love of these old men for each other was a very beautiful thing.”

“He was once rich. Did he lose everything in the war?”

“Very near all. His home was saved by Van Heemskirk, and he had a little money ‘enough to die wi’’ he said one day to me; and then he continued, ‘there’s compensations, Doctor, in having naething to leave. My lads will find no bone to quarrel over.’ I met a messenger coming for me this morning, and when I went to his bedside, he said, with a pleasant smile, ‘I’ll be awa’ in an hour or twa now, Doctor; and then I’ll hae no mair worrying anent rebellion and democrats; I’ll be under the dominion o’ the King o’ kings and His throned Powers and Principalities; and after a’ this weary voting, and confiscations, and guillotining, it will be Peace—Peace—Peace:’—and with that word on his lips, the ‘flitting’ as he called it was accomplished.”

“There is nothing to mourn in such a death, John.”

“Indeed, no. It was just as he said ‘a flitting.’ And it was strange that, standing watching what he so fitly called the ‘flitting,’ I thought of some lines I have not consciously remembered for many years. They reflect only the old Greek spirit, with its calm acceptance of death and its untroubled resignation, but they seemed to me very applicable to the elder’s departure:

Not otherwise to the hall of Hades dim He fares, than if some summer eventide A Message, not unlooked for, came to him; Bidding him rise up presently, and ride Some few hours’ journey, to a friendly home.”

“There is nothing to fear in such a death.”

“Nothing at all. Last week when Cornelia and I passed his house, he was leaning on the garden gate, and he spoke pleasantly to her and told her she was a ‘bonnie lassie.’ Where is Cornelia?”

“In her room. John, she went to Duyckinck’s this morning for me, and George Hyde met her again, and they took a walk together on the Battery. It was near the noon hour when she returned.”

“She told you about it?”

“Oh yes, and without inquiry.”

“Very good. I must look after that young fellow.” But he said the words without much care, and Mrs. Moran was not satisfied.

“Then you do not disapprove the meeting, John?” she asked.

“Yes, I do. I disapprove of any young man meeting my daughter every time she goes out. Cornelia is too young for lovers, and it is not desirable that she should have attentions from young men who have no intentions. I do not want her to be what is called a belle. Certainly not.”

“But the young men do not think her too young to be loved. I can see that Rem Van Ariens is very fond of her.”

“Rem is a very fine young man. If Cornelia was old enough to marry, I should make no objections to Rem.