The Maid of Maiden Lane Part 11

"Not until your cousin died was there any thought of such a thing. And long before that, we had built and begun to love dearly this home. I wish, then, it had been G.o.d's will that your cousin had not died."

"My father-"

"Ah, Joris, your father has always longed in his heart for England. Like a weaning babe that never could be weaned was he. In many ways, he has lately shown me that he felt himself to be a future English earl. And thou too? Wilt thou become an Englishman? Then this fair home I have made for thee will forget thy voice and thy footstep. Woe is me! I have planted and planned, for whom I know not."

"You have planned and planted for your Joris. I swear to you that I like England as little as you do. I despise the tomfoolery of courts and ceremonies. I count an earl no better than any other honourable gentleman. I desire most of all to marry the woman I love, and live here in the home that reminds me of you wherever I turn. I want your likeness on the great stairway, and in all the rooms; so that those who may never see your face may love you; and say, 'How good she looks! How beautiful she is!'"

"So true art thou! So loving! So dear to me! Even in England I can be happy if I think of thee Here-filling these big rooms with good company; riding, shooting, over thine own land, fishing in thy own waters, telling thy boys and girls how dear grandmother had this pond dug-this hedge planted-these woods filled with game-these streams set with willows-these summerhouses built for pleasure. Oh, I have thought ever as I worked, I shall leave my memory here-and here-and here again-for never, Joris, never, dear Joris, while thou art in this world, must thou forget me!"

"Never! Never, oh never, dear, dear mother!"

And that night they said no more. Both felt there would be plenty of time in the future to consider whatever changes it might have in store for them.

CHAPTER VI

AUNT ANGELICA

The first changes referred especially to Hyde's life, and were not altogether approved by him. His pretence of reading law had to be abandoned, for he had promised to remain at home with his mother, and it would not therefore be possible for him to dawdle about Pearl Street and Maiden Lane watching for Cornelia. But he had that happy and fortunate temper that trusts to events; and also, he soon began to realize that if circ.u.mstances alter cases, they also alter feelings.

For, looking upon Hyde Manor as the future home of himself and his wife-and that wife, happily, Cornelia-he found it very easy to take an almost eager interest in all that concerned its welfare and beauty. "How good! How unselfish he is!" thought his mother. "Never before has he been so ready to listen and so willing to please me." But, really, the work soon became delightful to him. The pa.s.sion for land and for its improvement-the ruling pa.s.sion of an Englishman-was not absent in George; it was only latent, and the idea of home, of his own personal home, developed it with amazing rapidity. He was soon able to make excellent suggestions to his mother; for her ideas, beautiful enough in the cultivation of flat surfaces, did not embody the grander possibilities of the higher lands near the river. But George saw every advantage, and with great ability directed his little gang of labourers among the rocks and woody crags of the yet unplanted wilderness.

In spite of their anxiety about the General, in spite of George's longing to see Cornelia, these early summer days, with their glory of sunshine and shade and their miracles of growth, were very happy days; though madame reached her happiness by putting the future quite out of her thoughts, and George reached his by antic.i.p.ating the future as the fruition of the present. Never since his early boyhood had madame and her son been so near and so dear to each other; for her brother-in-law's probable death and her husband's dangerous journeying released her from social engagements, and permitted her to spend her time in the employments and the companionship she loved best of all.

George, while accepting for himself the same partial seclusion, had more freedom. He rode into town three or four times every week; got the news of the clubs and the streets; loitered about Maiden Lane and the shopping district; and when disappointed and vexed at events went to his Grandmother Van Heemskirk for sympathy. For, as yet, he hesitated about naming Cornelia to his mother. He was sure she was aware of his pa.s.sion, and her reticence on the subject made him fear she was going to advocate the fulfilment of his father's promise. And he had such a singular delicacy about the girl he loved that he could not endure the thought of bandying her name about in an angry discussion. Added to this fine sense was an adoring love for his mother. She was in anxiety enough, and would be, until she heard of her husband's safety; why, then, should he add his anxiety to hers?

Yet he was not happy about Cornelia. Since that unfortunate morning at Richmond Hill they had never met. If she saw him go up or down Maiden Lane, she made no sign. Several times Arenta's face at her parlour window had given him a pa.s.sing hope; but Arenta's own love affairs were just then at a very interesting point; and, besides, she regarded the young Lieutenant's admiration for her friend as only one of his many transient enthusiasms.

"If there was anything real in it," she reflected, "Cornelia would have talked about him; and that she has never done." Then she began to remember, with pride, the very sensible behaviour of her own lover. "My Athanase," she reflected, "did not give me an hour's rest until we were engaged. He insisted on talking to father about our marriage settlements and our future-in fact, he made of love a thing possible and practical. A lover like Joris Hyde is not, I think, very fortunate."

She did not understand that the quality of love in its finest revelation desires, after its first sweet inception, a little period of withdrawal-it wonders at its strange happiness-broods over it-is fearful of disturbing emotions so exquisite-prefers the certainty of its delicious suspense to a more definite understanding, and finds a keen strange delight in its own poignant anxieties and hopes. These are the birth pangs of an immortal love-of a love that knows within itself, that it is born for Eternity, and need not to hurry the three-score-and-ten years of time to a consummation.

Of such n.o.ble lineage was the love of Cornelia for Joris Hyde. His gracious, beautiful youth, seemed a part of her own youth; his ardent, tender glances had filled her heart with a sweet trouble that she did not understand. It was the most natural thing in the world that she should wish to be apart; that she should desire to brood over feelings so strangely happy; and that in this very brooding they should grow to the perfect stature of a luminous and unquenchable affection.

Joris was moved by a sentiment of the same kind, though in a lesser degree. The masculine desire to obtain, and the delightful consciousness that he possessed, at least, the tremendous advantage of asking for the love he craved, roused him from the sweet torpor to which delicious, dreamy love had inclined him.

"I have thought of Cornelia long enough," he said one delightful summer morning; "with all my soul I now long to see her. And it is not an impossible thing I desire. In short, there is some way to compa.s.s it." Then a sudden, invincible persuasion of success came to him; he believed in his own good fortune; he had a conviction that the very stars connived with a true lover to work his will. And under this enthusiasm he galloped into town, took his horse to a stable, and then walked towards Maiden Lane.

In a few moments he saw Arenta Van Ariens. She was in a mist of blue and white, with flowing curls, and fluttering ribbons; and a general air of happiness. He placed himself directly in her path, and doffed his beaver to the ground as she approached.

"Well, then," she cried, with an affected air of astonishment, "who would have thought of seeing you? Your retirement is the talk of the town."

"And pray what does the town say?"

"Some part of it says you have lost your fortune at cards; another part says you have lost your heart and got no compensation for it. 'Tis strange to see the folly of young people of this age," she added, with a little pretended sigh of superior wisdom.

"As if you, also, had not lost your heart!" exclaimed Hyde.

"No, sir! I have exchanged mine for its full value. Where are you going?"

"With you."

"In a word, no. For I am going to Aunt Angelica's."

"Upon my honour, it is to your Aunt Angelica's I desire to go most of all!"

"Now I understand. You have found out that Cornelia Moran is going there. Are you still harping on that string? And Cornelia never said one word to me. I do not approve of such deceit. In my love affairs I have always been open as the day."

"I a.s.sure you that I did NOT know Miss Moran was going there. I had not a thought of Madame Jacobus until we met. To tell the very truth, I came into town to look for you."

"For me? And why, pray?"

"I want to see Miss Moran. If I cannot see her, then I want to hear about her. I thought you, of all people, could tell me the most and the best. I a.s.sured myself that you had infinite good temper. Now, pray do not disappoint me."

"Listen! We meet this afternoon at my aunt's, to discuss the dresses and ceremonies proper for a very fine wedding."

"For your own wedding, in fact-Is not that so?"

"Well, then?"

"Well, then, who knows more on that subject than Joris Hyde? Was I not, last year, at Lady Betty Somer's splendid nuptials; and at f.a.n.n.y Paget's, and the Countess of Carlisle's? Indeed, I maintain that in such a discussion I am an absolute necessity. And I wish to know Madame Jacobus. I have long wished to know her. Upon my honour, I think her to be one of the most interesting women in New York!"

"I will advise you a little. Save your compliments until you can say them to my aunt. I never carry a word to any one."

"Then take me with you, and I will repeat them to her face."

"So? Well, then, here we are, at her very door. I know not what she will say-you must make your own excuses, sir."

As she was speaking, they ascended the white steps leading to a very handsome brick house on the west side of Broadway. It had wide iron piazzas and a fine shady garden at the back, sloping down to the river bank; and had altogether, on the outside, the very similitude of a wealthy and fashionable residence. The door was opened by a very dark man, who was not a negro, and who was dressed in a splendid and outlandish manner-a scarlet turban above his straight black hair, and gold-hooped earrings, and a long coat or tunic, heavily embroidered in strange devices.

"He was an Algerine pirate," whispered Arenta. "My Uncle Jacob brought him here-and my aunt trusts him-I would not, not for a moment."

As soon as the front door closed, Joris perceived that he was in an unusual house. The scents and odours of strange countries floated about it. The hall contained many tall jars, full of pungent gums and roots; and upon its walls the weapons of savage nations were crossed in idle and harmless fashion. They went slowly up the highly polished stairway into a large, low parlour, facing the vivid, everyday business drama of Broadway; but the room itself was like an Arabian Night's dream, for the Eastern atmosphere was supplemented by divans and sofas covered with rare cashmere shawls, and rugs of Turkestan, and with cushions of all kinds of oriental splendour. Strange tables of wonderful mosaic work held ivory carvings of priceless worth; and porcelain from unknown lands. G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses from the yellow Gehenna of China and the utterable idolatry of India, looked out with brute cruelty, or sempiternal smiles from every odd corner; or gazed with a fascinating prescience from the high chimney-piece upon all who entered.

The effect upon Hyde was instantaneous and uncanny. His Saxon-Dutch nature was in instant revolt against influences so foreign and unnatural. Arenta was unconsciously in sympathy with him; for she said with a shrug of her pretty shoulders, as she looked around, "I have always bad dreams after a visit to this room. Do these things have a life of their own? Look at the creature on that corner shelf! What a serene disdain is in his smile! He seems to gaze into the very depths of your soul. I see that there is a curtain to his shrine; and I shall take leave to draw it." With these words she went to the scornful divinity, and shut his offending eyes behind the folds of his gold-embroidered curtain.

Hyde watched her flitting about the strange room, and thought of a little brown wren among the poisonous, vivid splendours of tropical swamp flowers. So out of place the pretty, thoughtless Dutch girl looked among the spoils of far India, and Central America, and of Arabian and African worship and workmanship. But when the door opened, and Madame Jacobus, with soft, gliding footsteps entered, Hyde understood how truly the soul, if given the wherewithal, builds the habitation it likes best. Once possessed of marvellous beauty, and yet extraordinarily interesting, she seemed the very genius of the room and its strange, suggestive belongings. She was unusually tall, and her figure had kept its undulating, stately grace. Her hair, dazzlingly white, was piled high above her ample brow, held in place with jewelled combs and glittering pins. Her face had lost its fine oval and youthful freshness, but who of any feeling or intelligence would not have far preferred the worn countenance, expressing in a thousand sensitive shades and emotions the story of her life and love? And if every other beauty had failed, Angelica's eyes would have atoned for the loss. They were large, softly-black, slow-moving, or again, in a moment, flashing with the fire that lay hidden in the dark pit of the iris.

It was said that her slaves adored her, and that no man who came within her influence had been able to resist her power-no man, perhaps, but Captain Jacobus; and he had not resisted, he had been content to exercise over her a power greater than her own. He had made her his wife; he had lavished on her for ten years the spoils of the four quarters of the world; and his worship of her had only been equalled by her pa.s.sionate attachment to him. Ten years of love, and then parting and silence-unbroken silence. Yet she still insisted that he was alive, and would certainly come back to her. With this faith in her heart, she had refused to put on any symbol of loss or mourning. She kept his fine house open, his room ready, and herself constantly adorned for his home-coming. Society, which insists on uniformity, did not approve of this unreasonable hope. It expected her to adopt the garments of widowhood for a time, and then make a match in accordance with the great fortune Captain Jacobus had left her. But Angelica Jacobus was a law unto herself; and society was compelled to take her with those apologizing shrugs it gives to whatever is original and individual.

She came in with a smile of welcome. She was always pleased that her fine home should be seen by those strange to it; and perhaps was particularly pleased that General Hyde's son should be her visitor. And as Joris was determined to win her favour, there was an almost instantaneous birth of good-will.

"Let me kiss your hand, madame," said the handsome young fellow, lifting the jewelled fingers in his own. "I have heard that my father had once that honour. Do not put me below him;" and with the words he touched with his warm lips the long white fingers.

Her laugh rang merrily through the dim room, and she answered-"You are d.i.c.k Hyde's own son-nothing else. I see that"-and she drew the young man towards the light and looked with a steady pleasure into his smiling face as she asked-

"What brought you here this morning, sir?"