III.

"_The proverb holds, that to be wise and love

Is hardly granted to the gods above._"

"Well, well, to-day goes to its forefathers, like all the rest; and, as

for what comes after it, every thing is in the love and counsel of the

Almighty One."

This was Joris Van Heemskirk's last thought ere he fell asleep that

night, after Elder Semple's cautious disclosure and proposition. In his

calm, methodical, domestic life, it had been an "eventful day." We say

the words often and unreflectingly, seldom pausing to consider that such

days are the results which months, years, perchance centuries, have made

possible. Thus, a long course of reckless living and reckless gambling,

and the consequent urgent need of ready money, had first made Captain

Hyde turn his thoughts to the pretty daughter of the rich Dutch

merchant.

Madam Semple, in her desire to enhance the importance of the Van

Heemskirks, had mentioned more than once the handsome sums of ready

money given to each of Katharine's sisters on their wedding-day; and

both Colonel Gordon and his wife had thought of this sum so often, as a

relief to their nephew's embarrassments, that it seemed almost as much

Hyde's property as if he had been born to inherit it. At first

Katherine, as its encumbrance, had been discussed very heartlessly,--she

could be left in New York when his regiment received marching orders, if

it were thought desirable; or she could be taken to England, and settled

as mistress of Hyde Manor House, a lonely mansion on the Norfolk fens,

which was so rarely tenanted by the family that Hyde had never been

there since his boyhood.

"She is a homespun little thing," laughed the colonel's fashionable

wife, "and quite unfit to go among people of our condition. But she

adores you, Dick; and she will be passably happy with a house to manage,

and a visit from you when you can spare the time."

"Oh, your servant, aunt! Then I am a very indifferent judge; for indeed

she has much spirit below her gentle manner; and, upon my word, I think

her as fine a creature as you can find in the best London society. The

task, I assure you, is not easy. When Katherine is won, then, in faith,

her father may be in no hurry of approval. And the child is a fair,

innocent child: I am very uneasy to do her wrong. The ninety-nine

plagues of an empty purse are to blame for all my ill deeds."

"Upon my word, Dick, nothing can be more commendable than your temper.

You make vastly proper reflection, sir; but you are in troubled

waters,--admit it,--and this little Dutch-craft may bring you

respectably into harbour.

It was in this mood that Katherine and her probable fortune had been

discussed; and thus she was but one of the events, springing from lives

anterior to her own, and very different from it. And causes nearly as

remote had prepared the way for her ready reception of Hyde's homage,

and the relaxation of domestic discipline which had trusted her so often

and so readily in his society--causes which had been forgotten, but

which had left behind them a positive and ever-growing result. When a

babe, she was remarkably frail and delicate; and this circumstance,

united to the fact of her being the youngest child, had made the whole

household very tender to her, and she had been permitted a much larger

portion of her own way than was usually given to any daughter in a Dutch

family.

Also, in her father's case, the motives influencing his decision

stretched backward through many generations. None the less was their

influence potent to move him. In fact, he forgot entirely to reflect how

a marriage between his child and Captain Hyde would be regarded at that

day; his first thoughts had been precisely such thoughts as would have

occurred to a Van Heemskirk living two hundred years before him. And

thus, though we hardly remember the fact, it is this awful solidarity of

the human family which makes the third and fourth generations heirs of

their forefathers, and brings into every life those critical hours we

call "eventful days."

Joris, however, made no such reflections. His age was not an age

inclined to analysis, and he was still less inclined to it from a

personal standpoint. For he was a man of few, but positive ideas; yet

these ideas, having once commended themselves to his faith or his

intelligence, were embraced with all his soul. It was this spirit which

made him deprecate even religious discussions, so dear to the heart of

his neighbour.

[Illustration: He heard her calling him to breakfast]

"I like them not, Elder," he would say; "of what use are they, then?

The Calvinistic faith is the true faith. That is certain. Very well,

then; what is true does not require to be examined, to see if it be

true."

Semple's communication regarding Captain Hyde and his daughter had

aroused in him certain feelings, and led him to certain decisions. He

went to sleep, satisfied with their propriety and justice. He awoke in

precisely the same mood. Then he dressed, and went into his garden. It

was customary for Katherine to join him there; and he frequently turned,

as he went down the path, to see if she were coming. He watched eagerly

for the small figure in its short quilted petticoat and buckled shoes,

and the fair, pink face shaded by the large Zealand hat, with its long

blue ribbons crossed over the back. But this morning she did not come.

He walked alone to his lily bed, and stooped a little forlornly to

admire the tulips and crocus-cups and little purple pansies; but his

face brightened when he heard her calling him to breakfast, and very

soon he saw her leaning over the half door, shading her eyes with both

her hands, the better to watch his approach.

Lysbet was already in her place; so was Joanna, and also Bram; and a

slim black girl called Dinorah was handing around fricasseed chicken and

venison steaks, hot fritters and johnny-cake; while the rich Java berry

filled the room with an aroma of tropical life, and suggestions of the

spice-breathing coasts of Sunda. Joris and Bram discussed the business

of the day; Katherine was full of her visit to Semple House the

preceding evening. Dinorah was no restraint. The slaves Joris owned,

like those of Abraham, were born or brought up in his own household;

they held to all the family feelings with a faithful, often an

unreasonable, tenacity.

And yet, this morning, Joris waited until Lysbet dismissed her handmaid,

before he said the words he had determined to speak ere he began the

work of the day. Then he put down his cup with an emphasis which made

all eyes turn to him, and said,--

"_Katrijntje_, my daughter, call not to-day, nor call not any day, until

I tell you different, at Madam Semple's. The people who go and come

there, I like them not. They will be no good to you. Lysbet, what say

you in this matter?"

"What you say, I say, Joris. The father is to be obeyed. When he will

not, the children can not."

"Joanna, what say you?"

"I like best of all things to do your pleasure, father."

"And you, Bram?"

"As for me, I think you are very right. I like not those English

officers,--insolent and proud men, all of them. It would have been a

great pleasure to me to strike down the one who yesterday spurned with

his spurred boot our good neighbour Jacob Cohen, for no reason but that

he was a Jew"--

"Heigho! go softly, Bram. That which burns thee not, cool not."

"As he passed our store door where I stood, he said 'devil,' but he

meant me."

"Only God knows what men mean. Now, then, little one, thy will is my

will, is it not?"

She had drawn her chair close to her father's, and taken his big hand

between her own, and was stroking and petting it as he spoke; and, ere

she answered, she leaned her head upon his breast.

"Father, I like to see the English lady; and she is teaching me the new

stitch."

"_Schoone Lammetje_! There are many other things far better for thee to

learn; for instance, to darn the fine Flemish lace, and to work the

beautiful 'clocks' on thy stockings, and to make perfect thy Heidelberg

and thy Confession of Faith. In these things, the best of all good

teachers is thy mother."

"I can do these things also, father. The lady loves me, and will be

unhappy not to see me."

"Then, let her come here and see thee. That will be the proper thing.

Why not? She is not better than thou art. Once thy mother has called on

her; thou and Joanna, a few times too often. Now, then, let her call on

thee. Always honour thyself, as well as others. That is the Dutch way;

that is the right way. Mind what I tell thee."

His voice had gradually grown sterner; and he gently withdrew his hand

from her clasp, and rose as a man in a hurry, and pressed with affairs:

"Come, Bram, there is need now of some haste. The 'Sea Hound' has her

cargo, and should sail at the noon-tide; and, as for the 'Crowned

Bears,' thou knowest there is much to be said and done. I hear she left

most of her cargo at Perth Amboy. Well, well, I have told Jerome Brakel

what I think of that. It is his own affair."

Thus talking, he left the room; and Lysbet instantly began to order the

wants of the house with the same air of settled preoccupation. "Joanna,"

she said, "the linen web in the loom, go and see how it is getting on;

and the fine napkins must be sent to the lawn for the bleaching, and

to-day the chambers must be aired and swept. The best parlour Katherine

will attend to."

Katherine still sat at the table; her eyes were cast down, and she was

arranging--without a consciousness of doing so--her bread-crumbs upon

her Delft plate. The directions roused her from her revery, and she

comprehended in a moment how decisive her father's orders were intended

to be. Yet in this matter she was so deeply interested that she

instinctively made an appeal against them.

"Mother, my mother, shall I not go once more to see Madam Gordon? So

kind she has been to me! She will say I am ungrateful, that I am rude,

and know not good manners. And I left there the cushion I am making, and

the worsteds. I may go at once, and bring them home? Yes, mother, I may

go at once. A young girl does not like to be thought ungrateful and

rude."

"More than that, Katherine; a young girl should not like to disobey a

good father. You make me feel astonished and sorry. Here is the key of

the best parlour; go now, and wash carefully the fine china-ware. As to

the rose-leaves in the big jars, you must not let a drop of water touch

them."

"My cushion and my worsteds, mother!"

"Well, then, I will send Dinorah for them with a civil message. That

will be right."

So Lysbet turned and left the room. She did not notice the rebellious

look on her daughter's face, the lowering brows, the resentment in the

glance that followed her, the lips firmly set to the mental purpose. "To

see her lover at all risks"--that was the purpose; but how best to

accomplish it, was not clear to her. The ways of the household were so

orderly, so many things brought the family together during the day,

Lysbet and Joanna kept such a loving watch over her, the road between

their own house and the Semples' was so straight and unscreened, and she

was, beside, such a novice in deception,--all these circumstances

flashing at once across her mind made her, for a moment or two, almost

despair.

But she lifted the key given her and went to the parlour. It was a

large, low room, with wainscoted walls, and a big tiled fireplace nearly

filling one end of it. The blinds were closed, but there was enough

light to reveal its quaint and almost foreign character. Great jars with

dragons at the handles stood in the recesses made by large oak cabinets,

black with age, and elaborately carved with a marvellous nicety and

skill. The oval tables were full of curious bits of china, dainty

Oriental wicker work, exquisite shells on lacquered trays, wonderfully

wrought workboxes and fans and amulets. The odours of calamus and myrrh

and camphor from strange continents mingled with the faint perfume of

the dried rose leaves and the scent-bags of English lavender. Many of

these rare and beautiful things were the spoils brought from India and

Java by the sea-going Van Heemskirks of past generations. Others had

come at long intervals as gifts from the captains of ships with whom the

house did business. Katherine had often seen such visitors--men with

long hair and fierce looks, and the pallor of hot, moist lands below the

tan of wind and sunshine. It had always been her delight to dust and

care for these various treasures; and the room itself, with its

suggestive aromas, was her favourite hiding-place. Here she had made her

own fairy tales, and built the enchanted castles which the less

fortunate children of this day have clever writers build for them.

And at length the prince of her imagination had come! As she moved about

among the strange carven toys and beautiful ornaments, she could think

only of him,--of his stately manner and dark, handsome face. Simple,

even rustic, she might be; but she understood that he had treated her

with as much deference and homage as if she had been a princess. She

recalled every word he said to her as they sat under the water beeches.

More vividly still she recalled the tender light in his eyes, the

lingering clasp of his hand, his low, persuasive voice, and that

nameless charm of fashion and culture which perhaps impressed her more

than any other thing.

Among the articles she had to dust was a square Indian box with drawers.

It had always been called "the writing-box," and it was partly filled

with paper and other materials for letter-writing. She stood before the

open lid thoughtfully, and a sudden overwhelming desire to send some

message of apology to Mrs. Gordon came into her heart. She could write

pretty well, and she had seen her mother and Joanna fold and seal

letters; and, although she was totally inexperienced in the matter, she

determined to make the effort.

[Illustration: The quill pens must be mended]

There was nothing in the materials then to help her. The letter paper

was coarse; envelopes were unknown. She would have to bring a candle

into the room in order to seal it; and a candle could only be lit by

striking a spark from the flint upon the tinder, and then igniting a

brimstone match from it,--unless she lit it at the kindled fire, which

would subject her to questions and remonstrances. Also, the quill pens

must be mended, and the ink renewed. But all these difficulties were

overcome, one by one; and the following note was intrusted to the care

of Diedrich Becker, the old man who worked in the garden and milked the

cows:

To MISTRESS COLONEL GORDON: HONOURED MADAM: My father forbids that I

come to see you. He thinks you should upon my mother call. That you will

judge me to be rude and ungrateful I fear very much. But that is not

true. I am unhappy, indeed. I think all the day of you.

Your obedient servant,

KATHERINE VAN HEEMSKIRK.

"'The poor child," said Mrs. Gordon, when she had read the few anxious

sentences. "Look here, Dick;" and Dick, who was beating a tattoo upon

the window-pane, turned listlessly and asked, "Pray, madam, what is it?"

"Of all earthly things, a letter from that poor child, Katherine Van

Heemskirk. She has more wit than I expected. So her father won't let her

come to me. Why, then, upon my word, I will go to her."

Captain Hyde was interested at once. He took the letter his aunt

offered, and read it with a feeling of love and pity and resentment.

"You will go to-morrow?" he asked; "and would it be beyond good breeding

for me to accompany you?"

"Indeed, nephew, I think it would. But I will give your service, and say

everything that is agreeable. Be patient; to-morrow morning I will call

upon our fair neighbour."

The next morning was damp, for there had been heavy rain during the

night; but Captain Hyde would not let his aunt forget or forego her

promise. She had determined to make an unceremonious visit; and early in

the day she put on her bonnet and pelisse, and walked over to the Van

Heemskirks. A negro woman was polishing the brass ornaments of the door,

and over its spotless threshold she passed without question or delay.

A few minutes she waited alone in the best parlour, charmed with its far

off air and Eastern scents, and then Madam Van Heemskirk welcomed her.

In her heart she was pleased at the visit. She thought privately that

her Joris had been a little too strict. She did not really see why her

beautiful daughters should not have the society and admiration of the

very best people in the Province. And Mrs. Gordon's praise of Katharine,

and her declaration that "she was inconsolable without the dear

creature's society," seemed to the fond mother the most proper and

natural of feelings.

"Do but let me see her an hour, madam," she said. "You know my sincere

admiration. Is not that her voice? I vow, she sings to perfection And

what a singular melody! Please to set wide the door, madam."

"It is the brave song of the brave men of Zealand, when from the walls

of Leyden they drove away the Spaniards;" and madam stood in the open

door, and called to her daughter, "Well, then, Katharine, begin again

the song of 'The Beggars of the Sea.'"

"We are the Beggars of the Sea,--

Strong, gray Beggars from Zealand we;

We are fighting for liberty:

Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"Hardy sons of old Zierikzee,

Fed on the breath of the wild North Sea.

Beggars are kings if free they be:

Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"'_True to the Wallet_,' whatever betide;

'_Long live the Gueux_,'--the sea will provide

Graves for the enemy, deep and wide:

Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"Beggars, but not from the Spaniard's hand;

Beggars, 'under the Cross' we stand;

Beggars, for love of the fatherland:

Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"Now, if the Spaniard comes our way,

What shall we give him, Beggars gray?

Give him a moment to kneel and pray:

Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!"

At the second verse, Mrs. Gordon rose and said, "Indeed, madam, I find

my good-breeding no match against such singing. And the tune is

wonderful; it has the ring of trumpets, and the roar of the waves, in

it. Pray let us go at once to your daughters."

"At work are they; but, if you mind not that, you are welcome indeed."

Then she led the way to the large living, or dining, room, where

Katherine stood at the table cleaning the silver flagons and cups and

plates that adorned the great oak sideboard.

Joanna, who was darning some fine linen, rose and made her respects with

perfect composure. She had very little liking, either for Mrs. Gordon or

her nephew; and many of their ways appeared to her utterly foolish, and

not devoid of sin. But Katherine trembled and blushed with pleasure and

excitement, and Mrs. Gordon watched her with a certain kind of curious

delight. Her hair was combed backward, plaited, and tied with a ribbon;

her arms bare to the shoulders, her black bodice and crimson petticoat

neatly shielded with a linen apron: and poised in one hand she held a

beautiful silver flagon covered with raised figures, which with patient

labour she had brought into shining relief.

"Oh," cried the visitor, "that is indeed a piece of plate worth looking

at! Surely, child, it has a history,--a romance perhaps. La, there are

words also upon it! Pray, madam, be so obliging as to read the

inscription;" and madam, blushing with pride and pleasure, read it

aloud,--

"'Hoog van Moed,

Klein van Goed,

Een zwaard in de hand:

Is 't wapen van Gelderland.'"

"Dutch, I vow! Surely, madam, it is very sonorous and emphatic; vastly

different, I do assure you, from the vowelled idioms of Italy and Spain.

Pray, madam, be so civil as to translate the words for me."

"'Of spirit great,

Of small estate,

A sword in the hand:

Such are the arms of Guelderland.'

[Illustration: A Guelderland flagon]

"You must know," continued Madam Van Heemskirk, "that my husband's

father had a brother, who, in a great famine in Guelderland, filled one

hundred flat boats with wheat of Zealand,--in all the world it is the

finest wheat, that is the truth,--and help he sent to those who were

ready to perish. And when came better days, then, because their hearts

were good, they gave to their preserver this flagon. Joris Van

Heemskirk, my husband, sets on it great store, that is so."

Conversation in this channel was easily maintained. Madame Van Heemskirk

knew the pedigree or the history of every tray or cup, and in

reminiscence and story an hour passed away very pleasantly indeed.

Joanna did not linger to listen. The visitor did not touch her liking or

her interest; and besides, as every one knows, the work of a house must

go on, no matter what guest opens the door. But Katherine longed and

watched and feared. Surely her friend would not go away without some

private token or message for her. She turned sick at heart when she rose

as if to depart. But Mrs. Gordon proved herself equal to the emergency;

for, after bidding madam an effusive good-by, she turned suddenly and

said, "Pray allow your daughter to show me the many ornaments in your

parlour. The glimpse I had has made me very impatient to see them more

particularly."

The request was one entirely in sympathy with the mood and the previous

conversation, and madam was pleased to gratify it; also pleased, that,

having fully satisfied the claims of social life, she could with

courtesy leave her visitor's further entertainment with Katherine, and

return to her regular domestic cares. To her the visit had appeared to

be one of such general interest, that she never suspected any motive

beneath or beyond the friendliness it implied. Yet the moment the

parlour-door had been shut, Mrs. Gordon lifted Katharine's face between

her palms, and said,--

"Faith, child, I am almost run off my head with all the fine things I

have listened to for your sake. Do you know _who_ sent me here?"

"I think, madam, Captain Hyde."

"Psha! Why don't you blush, and stammer, and lie about it? 'I think,

madam, Captain Hyde,'" mimicking Katherine's slight Dutch accent. "'Tis

to be seen, miss, that you understand a thing or two. Now, Captain Hyde

wishes to see you; when can you oblige him so much?"

"I know not. To come to Madam Semple's is forbidden me by my father."

"It is on my account. I protest your father is very uncivil."

"Madam, no; but it is the officers; many come and go, and he thinks it

is not good for me to meet them."

"Oh, indeed, miss, it is very hard on Captain Hyde, who is more in love

than is reasonable Has your father forbidden you to walk down your

garden to the river-bank?"

"No, madam."

"Then, if Captain Hyde pass about two o'clock, he might see you there?"

"At two I am busy with Joanna."

"La, child! At three then?"

"Three?"

The word was a question more than an assent; but Mrs. Gordon assumed the

assent, and did not allow Katharine to contradict it. "And I promised to

bring him a token from you,--he was exceedingly anxious about that

matter; give me the ribbon from your hair."

"Only last week Joanna bought it for me. She would surely ask me, 'Where

is your new ribbon?'"

"Tell her that you lost it."

"How could I say that? It would not be true."

The girl's face was so sincere, that Mrs. Gordon found herself unable to

ridicule the position. "My dear," she answered, "you are a miracle. But,

among all these pretty things, is there nothing you can send?"

Katherine looked thoughtfully around. There was a small Chinese cabinet

on a table: she went to it, and took from a drawer a bow of orange

ribbon. Holding it doubtfully in her hand, she said, "My St. Nicholas

ribbon."

"La, miss, I thought you were a Calvinist! What are you talking of the

saints for?"

"St. Nicholas is our saint, our own saint; and on his day we wear

orange. Yes, even my father then, on his silk cap, puts an orange bow.

Orange is the Dutch colour, you know, madam."

"Indeed, child, I do _not_ know; but, if so, then it is the best colour

to send to your true love."

"For the Dutch, orange always. On the great days of the kirk, my father

puts blue with it. Blue is the colour of the Dutch Calvinists."

"Make me thankful to learn so much. Then when Councillor Van Heemskirk

wears his blue and orange, he says to the world, 'I am a Dutchman and a

Calvinist'?"

"That is the truth. For the _Vaderland_ the _Moeder-Kerk_ he wears their

colours. The English, too, they will have their own colour!"

"La, my dear, England claims every colour! But, indeed, even an English

officer may now wear an orange favour; for I remember well when our

Princess Anne married the young Prince of Orange. Oh, I assure you the

House of Nassau is close kin to the House of Hanover! And when English

princesses marry Dutch princes, then surely English officers may marry

Dutch maidens. Your bow of orange ribbon is a very proper love-knot."

"Indeed, madam, I never"--

[Illustration: "A very proper love-knot"]

"There, there! I can really wait no longer. _Some one_ is already in a

fever of impatience. 'Tis a quaintly pretty room; I am happy to have seen

its curious treasures. Good-by again, child; my service once more to your

mother and sister;" and so, with many compliments, she passed chatting and

laughing out of the house.

Katherine closed the best parlour, and lingered a moment in the act. She

felt that she had permitted Mrs. Gordon to make an appointment for her

lover, and a guilty sense of disobedience made bitter the joy of

expectation. For absolute truthfulness is the foundation of the Dutch

character; and an act of deception was not only a sin according to

Katherine's nature, but one in direct antagonism to it. As she turned

away from the closed parlour, she felt quite inclined to confide

everything to her sister Joanna; but Joanna, who had to finish the

cleaning of the silver, was not in that kind of a temper which invites

confidence; and indeed, Katherine, looking into her calm, preoccupied

face, felt her manner to be a reproof and a restraint.

So she kept her own counsel, and doubted and debated the matter in her

heart until the hands of the great clock were rising quickly to the hour

of fate. Then she laid down her fine sewing, and said, "Mother, I want

to walk in the garden. When I come back my task I will finish."

"That is well. Joanna, too, has let her work fall down to her lap. Go,

both of you, and get the fine air from the river."

This was not what Katherine wished; but nothing but assent was possible,

and the girls strolled slowly down the box-bordered walks together.

Madam Van Heemskirk watched them from the window for a few minutes. A

smile of love and pleasure was on her fine, placid face; but she said

with a sigh, as she turned away,--

"Well, well, if it is the will of God they should not rise in the world,

one must be content. To the spider the web is as large as to the whale

the whole wide sea; that is the truth."

Joanna was silent; she was thinking of her own love-affairs; but

Katherine, doubtful of herself, thought also that her sister suspected

her. When they reached the river-bank, Joanna perceived that the lilacs

were in bloom, and at their root the beautiful auriculas; and she

stooped low to inhale their strange, nameless, earthy perfume. At that

moment a boat rowed by with two English soldiers, stopped just below

them, and lay rocking on her oars. Then an officer in the stern rose and

looked towards Katherine, who stood in the full sunlight with her large

hat in her hand. Before she could make any sign of recognition, Joanna

raised herself from the auriculas and stood beside her sister; yet in

the slight interval Katherine had seen Captain Hyde fling back from his

left shoulder his cloak, in order to display the bow of orange ribbon on

his breast.

The presence of Joanna baffled and annoyed him; but he raised his beaver

with a gallant grace, and Joanna dropped a courtesy, and then, taking

Katherine's hand, turned toward home with her, saying, "That is the boat

of Captain Hyde. What comes he this way for?"

"The river way is free to all, Joanna." And Joanna looked sharply at

her sister and remained silent.

But Katherine was merry as a bird. She chattered of this and of that,

and sang snatches of songs, old and new. And all the time her heart beat

out its own glad refrain, "My bow of orange ribbon, my bow of orange

ribbon!" Her needle went to her thoughts, and her thoughts went to

melody; for, as she worked, she sang,--

"Will you have a pink knot?

Is it blue you prize?

One is like a fresh rose,

One is like your eyes.

No, the maid of Holland,

For her own true love,

Ties the splendid orange,

Orange still above!

_O oranje boven!_

Orange still above.

"Will you have the white knot?

No, it is too cold.

Give me splendid orange,

Tint of flame and gold;

Rich and glowing orange,

For the heart I love;

_Under_, white and pink and blue;

Orange still _above_!

_O oranje boven!_

Orange still above!"

"How merry you sing, _mijn Katrijntje_! Like a little bird you sing.

What, then, is it?"

"A pretty song made by the schoolmaster, _mijn moeder. 'Oranje Boven'_

the name is."

"That is a good name. Your father I will remind to have it painted over

the door of the summer-house."

"There already are two mottoes painted,--Peaceful is my garden,' and

'Contentment is my lot.'"

"Well, then, there is always room for two more good words, is there

not?" And Katherine gayly sung her answer,--

"Tie the splendid orange,

Orange still above!

_O oranje boven!_

Orange still above."

[Illustration: Tail-piece]

[Illustration: Chapter heading]