As to the doubters, they were completely silenced when the next issue of

the "New York Gazette" appeared; for among its most conspicuous

advertisements was the following: Married, Oct. 19, 1765, by the Rev. Mr. Somers, chaplain to his

Excellency the Governor, Richard Drake Hyde, of Hyde Manor, Norfolk, son

of the late Richard Drake Hyde, and brother of William Drake Hyde, Earl

of Dorset and Hyde, to Katherine, the youngest daughter of Joris and

Lysbet Van Heemskirk, of the city and province of New York.

Witnesses: NIGEL GORDON, H.M. Nineteenth

Light Cavalry.

GEORGE EARLE, H.M. Nineteenth

Light Cavalry.

ADELAIDE GORDON, wife of Nigel

Gordon.

This announcement took every one a little by surprise. A few were really

gratified; the majority perceived that it silenced gossip of a very

enthralling kind. No one could now deplore or insinuate, or express

sorrow or astonishment. And, as rejoicing with one's friends and

neighbours soon becomes a very monotonous thing, Katherine Van

Heemskirk's fine marriage was tacitly dropped. Only for that one day on

which it was publicly declared, was it an absorbing topic. The whole

issue of the "Gazette" was quickly bought; and then people, having seen

the fact with their own eyes, felt a sudden satiety of the whole affair.

On some few it had a more particular influence. Hyde's brother officers

held high festival to their comrade's success. To every bumper they read

the notice aloud, as a toast, and gave a kind of national triumph to

what was a purely personal affair. Joris read it with dim eyes, and then

lit his long Gouda pipe and sat smoking with an air of inexpressible

loneliness. Lysbet read it, and then put the paper carefully away among

the silks and satins in her bottom drawer. Joanna read it, and then

immediately bought a dozen copies and sent them to the relatives of

Batavius, in Dordrecht, Holland.

Neil Sample read and re-read it. It seemed to have a fascination for

him; and for more than an hour he sat musing, with his eyes fixed upon

the fateful words. Then he rose and went to the hearth. There were a few

sticks of wood burning upon it, but they had fallen apart. He put them

together, and, tearing out the notice, he laid it upon them. It meant

much more to Neil than the destruction of a scrap of paper, and he stood

watching it, long after it had become a film of grayish ash.

Bram would not read it at all. He was too full of shame and trouble at

the event; and the moments went as if they moved on lead. But the

unhappy day wore away to its evening; and after tea he gathered a great

nosegay of narcissus, and went to Isaac Cohen's. He did not "hang about

the steps," as Joris in his temper had said. Miriam was not one of those

girls who sit in the door to be gazed at by every passing man. He went

into the store, and she seemed to know his footstep. He had no need to

speak: she came at once from the mystery behind the crowded place into

the clearer light. Plain and dark were her garments, and Bram would have

been unable to describe her dress; but it was as fitting to her as are

the green leaves of the rose-tree to the rose.




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