The Maid of Maiden Lane

"Poor Arenta!" said the Doctor when Cornelia had finished the wretched epistle. "She is however showing the mettle of the race from which she sprang. The spirit of the men who fought Alva is in her, and I think she will be a match for Marat, if it comes to that. Suppose you go and see Van Ariens, and give him all the comfort you can. Are you too weary?"

"I should like to see him, I am not tired now. Home is such a good doctor."

"I think you will find him in his house. He comes from his office very early these days."

Cornelia crossed the street and was going to knock at the door, when Van Ariens hastily opened it. His broad face shone with pleasure, and when Cornelia told him her errand, he was in a hurry of loving anxiety to hear what his child had written.

"I understand," he said, when he had heard the letter. "She is frightened, the poor little one! but she will smile and say 'it is nothing.' That is her way. However, I yet think I must go to her."

"Do not," urged Cornelia. "France is now at war with Holland, and you would be recognized as a Dutchman."

"That is so. My tongue would tell tales on me; and to go--even to heaven--by the guillotine, is not what a good man would wish. No indeed!"

"And you may see by Arenta's letter, that she does not fear the guillotine. Come over to-night and talk to my father and mother, and I will tell you what I saw in Philadelphia."

"Well then, I will come."

"Is Madame Jacobus back in New York yet?"

"She is in London."

"But why in London?"

"That, I know not. Two reasons I can suppose, but which is right, or if either be right, that is beyond my certainty."

"Is her sister-in-law dead?"

"She is dead. Her husband was an Englishman; perhaps then it is about some property in England she has gone. If it is not that, of nothing else can I think but Captain Jacobus. But my sister Angelica had ever two ways--nothing at all she would say about her money or her business; but constantly, to every one, she would talk of her husband. I think then it is money or property that has taken her to England. For if it had been Jacobus, to the whole town she would have told it." Then he took both Cornelia's hands in his, and looking at her earnestly said-"Poor Rem! Impossible is it?"

"Quite impossible, sir," she answered.

"When he got thy letter refusing his love and offer, he went to Boston. I think he will not come back to me. I am very sorry," he said simply, and he let her hands drop.