"How glorious stand the valiant, sword in hand,

In front of battle for their native land!"

It was into this thundery atmosphere of coming conflict, of hopes and

doubts, of sundering ties and fearful looking forward, that Richard and

Katherine Hyde came, from the idyllic peace and beauty of their Norfolk

house. But there was something in it that fitted Hyde's real

disposition. He was a natural soldier, and he had arrived at the period

of life when the mere show and pomp of the profession had lost all

satisfying charm. He had found a quarrel worthy of his sword, one that

had not only his deliberate approval, but his passionate sympathy. In

fact, his first blow for American independence had been struck in the

duel with Lord Paget; for that quarrel, though nominally concerning Lady

Suffolk, was grounded upon a dislike engendered by their antagonism

regarding the government of the Colonies.

It was an exquisite April morning when they sailed up New York bay once

more. Joris had been watching for the "Western Light;" and when she came

to anchor at Murray's Wharf, his was the foremost figure on it. He had

grown a little stouter, but was still a splendid-looking man; he had

grown a little older, but his tenderness for his daughter was still

young and fresh and strong as ever. He took her in his arms, murmuring,

"Mijn Katrijntje, mijn Katrijntje! Ach, mijn kind, mijn kind!"

Hyde had felt that there might be some embarrassment in his own case,

perhaps some explanation or acknowledgment to make; but Joris waved

aside any speech like it. He gave Hyde both hands; he called him "mijn

zoon;" he stooped, and put the little lad's arms around his neck. In

many a kind and delicate way he made them feel that all of the past was

forgotten but its sweetness.

And surely that hour Lysbet had the reward of her faithful affection.

She had always admired Hyde; and she was proud and happy to have him in

her home, and to have him call her mother. The little Joris took

possession of her heart in a moment. Her Katherine was again at her

side. She had felt the clasp of her hands; she had heard her whisper

"mijn moeder" upon her lips.

They landed upon a Saturday, upon one of those delightsome days that

April frequently gives to New York. There was a fresh wind, full of the

smell of the earth and the sea; an intensely blue sky, with flying

battalions of white fleecy clouds across it; a glorious sunshine above

everything. And people live, and live happily, even in the shadow of

war. The stores were full of buyers and sellers. The doors and windows

of the houses were open to the spring freshness. Lysbet had heard of

their arrival, and was watching for them. Her hair was a little whiter,

her figure a little stouter; but her face was fair and rosy, and sweet

as ever.




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