THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
" WALLACE . . . TOOK ADVANTAGE OF JACOB'S DISTRACTED 
 ATTENTION TO MAKE A SAVAGE THRUST." 
 
 (See page 404.) 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK 
 
 BY 
 
 WILSON BARRETT 
 
 AND 
 
 ELWYN BARRON 
 
 LONDON 
 
 JOHN MACQUEEN 
 HASTINGS HOUSE, NORFOLK STREET, W.C. 
 
 1900 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " A PRETTY assemblage, Mr. Boylston." 
 
 "As pretty, your Excellency, as I have seen in 
 New York." 
 
 " I hope the occasion may prove worthy of it. 
 Have you made a choice, Miss Sophia?" inclining 
 his head toward the young lady who sat in the farther 
 corner of the carriage. 
 
 " I am between the two horns of a dilemma, your 
 Excellency," Miss Boylston answered, laughingly. 
 " My sympathies run with the Virginian ; but I con- 
 fess my judgment leans toward the English horse. 
 So you see I am at contraries whether to risk my 
 judgment or my sentiments, for I should be vastly 
 sorry to find either amiss." 
 
 " Then back your sentiments," the Governor urged 
 in good humour, " for 'tis a common experience that 
 a young lady's most trustworthy guide is her heart." 
 
12 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " My daughter is not of that opinion, I promise 
 you. She prides herself in a mind " 
 
 "La, papa," interrupted Miss Boylston, "you must 
 not expose my pretensions to the ridicule of his 
 Excellency." 
 
 " Pardon me, Miss Boylston, but you can make no 
 pretensions that I am not ready to allow with addi- 
 tions. But what is your reason for preferring the 
 Virginian ? " 
 
 " None you will think substantial." 
 
 " Gad, no, your Excellency, for I must tell you that 
 Sophy has come back from her winter in Boston 
 with some ill-fitting notions of colonial dignity that 
 she airs with prodigious impudence." 
 
 " Humph ! " said the Governor, looking in an 
 amused way at Miss Boylston, " if 'tis on that ground 
 that you incline to the Virginian, I must change my 
 advice and bid you back your judgment against your 
 sentiments. 'Twere a pity if so much beauty and 
 grace were thrown into the wrong basin of the bal- 
 ance. Let us leave sedition to the vulgar." 
 
 "La, your Excellency, I hope 'tis no sedition to 
 wish that a home-bred horse may win against a for- 
 eign product ? " 
 
 " Indeed, no, dear Miss Boylston ; but an English 
 horse is home-bred." 
 
 " I think, Sophy, his Excellency tripped you up 
 there." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 13 
 
 "Then, in the sheer obstinacy of a revengeful 
 spirit, I shall throw my fortune with the Vir- 
 ginian." 
 
 "If you win" ," the Governor began, hesitatingly, 
 as he cast about in his mind for a suitable penalty. 
 
 " You shall lead me out for the first dance at the 
 next Fort ball," Miss Boylston suggested, saucily. 
 
 " Agreed. I can think of no better way to punish 
 you, for they say I dance atrociously." 
 
 The Governor lifted his hat and bowed with a 
 flourish, riding off to exchange civilities with the 
 de Lancy's, whose carriage had just entered the 
 enclosure. 
 
 This being the first considerable race of the mid- 
 June season, the world of fashion, not less than the 
 crowd on the lower planes of sensibility, hastened to 
 take joy of the occasion. The picturesque Church 
 Farm course idealised by the near flow of the 
 majestic Hudson and the friendly green of approach- 
 ing trees was thronged by a shifting motley of 
 brilliance and commonplace. Ladies in a finery of 
 toilet suited to the elegances of an indoor reception, 
 gentlemen in the smart attire of a dress parade, set 
 their showiness in animating contrast to the curiously 
 varied garb of plainer and poorer folk, from the prim 
 dignity of the merchant's sobriety to the uncouth 
 garment of the farmer from over the river. Here 
 and there the leather and fringed suit of a fur-hunter 
 
14 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 or an Indian fighter matched merit with the dashing 
 uniform of some of his Majesty's officers or plain 
 soldiers. Memories and traditions of the Dutch 
 combated the dominant pretensions of English fash- 
 ions, there being sabots and caps to match with 
 French high heels and wide-brimmed, lace-decorated 
 hats ; heavy, straight petticoats and stiff-laced bodices 
 to rebuke the ample skirts and low corsages of the 
 London mode. The democracy of pleasure was 
 shown, too, in the vehicular array as well as in 
 the trappings of the saddled cattle. Against the 
 imported carriage of the Governor and two or three 
 families of the gentry were set the chaise and the 
 cabriolet in all degrees and grades of being from 
 smartness to dilapidation ; nor was the ox-cart want- 
 ing to lend a serious importance to the scene of 
 interest. Booths and games of the catchpenny 
 order, hawkers of fruit and buns, tumblers and 
 mountebanks, gave token of the imitative spirit with 
 which the colonists declared their origin, for the 
 English in New York were of a mind to reproduce 
 the conditions and characteristics of sports on the 
 farther side of the sea, and fancied they were within 
 the range of favourable comparison. Mr. Zenger, in 
 the glowing account furnished to his Weekly Journal, 
 notwithstanding his republican predilections, left no 
 doubt in the reader's mind of the entire success of 
 the imitation. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 15 
 
 Though any sort of race was an enchantment to 
 the wager-loving New Yorkers, whose ardour for bet- 
 ting overleaped all bounds of discretion, the contest 
 to witness which all the town had come forth to-day, 
 was exceptionally inspiring in the fact that an Eng- 
 lish thoroughbred, got over the sea with much 
 anxiety, was to contest the honours and the purse 
 with a Virginian-born stallion, brought to redoubt- 
 able horse-hood on the island. Partisan spirit ran 
 the higher for the reason that there was just then no 
 small amount of guarded friction between the vigor- 
 ous Tory and the nascent Whig elements ; and, 
 though the former affected a thorough detestation 
 of the seditious faction, as it was styled, no opportu- 
 nity was missed to prove its superiority. This race 
 was an uncommon chance, and the young bloods of 
 the royalist holding were prodigal of their money, 
 and, flashing it to right and left, gave odds with such 
 reckless confidence that the English horse very early 
 became the favourite of society in the drawing-rooms 
 no less than of society in the taverns. 
 
 The adherents of the Virginian stallion moderated 
 their wager-taking fervour without faltering in their 
 allegiance, when they learned from recent arrivals 
 from England something more of the invader's repu- 
 tation than they had known. One of these new- 
 comers was Wallace Waring, just graduated from 
 Oxford, and come to rejoin his father, Mr. Stephen 
 
1 6 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 Waring, a retired barrister of some fortune, whom 
 ill health had driven from England ten years before. 
 Young Waring had seen the English racer do some 
 notable work on his native turf, and expanded the 
 story of the exploit in a way to give that incentive 
 to inclination which results in enthusiasm. It is an 
 ancient observation that prophets, even those of the 
 equine order, suffer a diminution of credit among 
 their familiars when they are brought into question 
 by an Unknown of whom wondrous things are 
 spoken. The Virginian horse, unfortunately, had 
 been raised and trained right there on the island, 
 and, though there was among the town-folk great 
 esteem of his merits, he certainly lacked the 
 commanding distinction of an animal that had 
 done great things on a famous track and against 
 formidable rivals. Perhaps the only person who 
 never for a moment wavered from his faith was the 
 sturdy owner of the stallion, young Jacob Wilbruch, 
 a well-to-do Anglo-Dutchman, who combined some- 
 thing of the farmer with the merchant, and was more 
 student than sportsman. Cautious and sagacious 
 Evert Vanbergen, who had been the guardian of 
 Jacob's youth and young manhood, and was much 
 averse to having his training brought under the pop- 
 ular reproach, had come with sage counsel to Jacob's 
 place one morning. 
 
 " I have seen t'at Enklish horse, Jacob." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. If 
 
 " So have I, Mr. Vanbergen." 
 
 " He is a good horse, Jacob." 
 
 " There is no doubt about that." 
 
 " Fetter not pet against him." 
 
 "I have already wagered all I can afford." 
 
 "You will lose your moneys, Jacob." 
 
 " I don't think so, Mr. Vanbergen." 
 
 "Vill I put some moneys privately on t'e ot'er 
 horse for you ? " 
 
 " No ; I have confidence in Black Dan." 
 
 " Ton't pe a fool, Jacob ! " 
 
 " I won't. But don't bet against Black Dan, Mr. 
 Vanbergen." 
 
 " Jacob ! Jacob ! I ton't like to see you lose your 
 moneys." 
 
 "I am not going to lose it." 
 
 " Oh, ja, t'at's your vay ! You vas always hard- 
 nekkiglijk," and the old merchant turned away, in 
 irritated pity of Jacob's obstinacy. 
 
 And this afternoon, with the race about to come 
 off, Jacob found most people in Mr. Vanbergen's 
 way of thinking. Favour seemed to have gone over 
 bodily to the " foreigner," and only the unconquer- 
 able passion for gambling on a hazard which charac- 
 terised the times kept Black Dan in countenance. 
 But Jacob cared not a whit for that. He had slapped 
 the broad, deep chest of the stallion, smoothed down 
 the powerful shoulders, patted the wide nostrils, and 
 
1 8 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 looked into the fire-lighted eyes, very well satisfied 
 with the inspection. 
 
 " The other fellow has more speed than you have, 
 Dan ; but he hasn't got your chest and muscles. You 
 and I know what four-mile heats will mean." And 
 Black Dan had whinnied something which Jacob 
 seemed to understand. 
 
 Before the chief event could come on there were 
 to be a half-dozen of those wild and thundering 
 "quarter dashes" in which the common people 
 found a mighty delight. These dashes were always 
 between two horses running on parallel paths ; and 
 though everything depended on the volt at the start, 
 and nothing was due to skill of horsemanship, the 
 fury of the rush was a mad excitement to the game- 
 sters, and in the few seconds between start and 
 finish extravagant sums changed hands. After the 
 last of these had got the assembly into the proper 
 frame of mind to appreciate the vital incident of the 
 day, the eight horses entered for the great race were 
 led out from the paddock, amid the cheers of the 
 multitude. There was a hurrying of eager game- 
 sters to take stock of the cattle, though little atten- 
 tion was given to any but the fine bay gelding and 
 the superb black stallion generally designated as the 
 real competitors for first place. 
 
 Black Dan's mount was a negro lad as black as 
 himself, a perfect accord apparently existing between 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 19 
 
 the two. Jacob gave the boy one final word of 
 instruction. 
 
 " Don't strain to take the first heat, Jim. Second 
 place will do." 
 
 "Yas, Marse Jake." 
 
 " Your freedom, if you win, Jim." 
 
 " Yas, Marse Jake." 
 
 While the horses were cantering and caracoling up 
 the track preparing for the start, Jacob Wilbruch 
 crossed the turf to the private stand, as if in no wise 
 concerned in the results of the race. He exchanged 
 telegraphic signs, however, with a young lady of a 
 distinctive beauty but in less fashionable attire than 
 those about her, whose face gave every token of an 
 apprehensive excitement. Jacob's nod was one of 
 reassurance, for she smiled in contented way and 
 turned to whisper to the old merchant sitting beside 
 her: 
 
 "Jacob feels sure, papa." 
 
 " Oh, ja," said Mr. Vanbergen, a little gruffly, 
 "Jacob always feels t'at vay." 
 
 "Well, I feel sure, too, papa." 
 
 "T'at ton't matter. You are not going to lose 
 some moneys py your feelings." 
 
 "That may be, but I'm going to risk some on 
 them ! " 
 
 Luya ! " 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen looked at his daughter with a sur- 
 
2O IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 prise as great as his displeasure, there being nothing 
 he held more in abhorrence than bad judgment in 
 money affairs, and nothing that could more confound 
 him than such bad judgment in his daughter. But 
 Miss Luya Vanbergen had been too long accustomed 
 to rule her father to take note of his disapprobation 
 of her opinions, and she was already well down the 
 steps toward the grass-plot before Mr. Vanbergen 
 was enough recovered to understand her intention. 
 She was going in quest of some friendly victim. 
 
 Meantime, Lieutenant Willett, one of the most 
 gracefully dissipated of his Majesty's young officers, 
 and Mr. Philip Ashton had sauntered up to Wilbruch 
 with the easy air of gentlemen who feel a genial 
 tolerance of the follies of an inferior intelligence. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Wilbruch," Lieutenant Willett began,, 
 with a smile, " are you still advising your friends to 
 lay their money on Black Dan ? " 
 
 " I have advised no one to lay his money on Black 
 Dan, lieutenant," Jacob answered, good-naturedly. 
 
 "How about you own money?" Ashton asked. 
 " Does it support your preference ? " 
 
 "As far as I have thought wise, Mr. Ashton." 
 
 "Gad, I'm sorry to hear you say so, for I have 
 still a few guineas I should love to set to breeding. 
 Come, a simple fifty ? " 
 
 "You might oblige him to that extent," the 
 lieutenant urged, as Jacob shook his head. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 21 
 
 " I run my horse for his own credit and for some 
 little pride of my own, lieutenant, and not to fill my 
 purse by emptying those of my neighbours." 
 
 "Gad, lieutenant, Mr. Wilbruch is a moralist of 
 economies. Tis a saving sort of virtue. Then you 
 will not lay me fifty on your horse ? " 
 
 " I think not, Mr. Ashton." 
 
 " But I will, Mr. Ashton," said Miss Vanbergen, 
 coming up at the moment. " And, that you may not 
 feel slighted, lieutenant, I'll be as accommodating 
 in your interest." 
 
 Both gentlemen bowed in a deprecating way. 
 
 "I am sure," said the lieutenant, "that Mr. 
 Ashton no more than I can have a wish to rob Miss 
 Vanbergen." 
 
 " But if you care to be rid of your purse " 
 
 "La, Mr. Ashton," cried Miss Vanbergen, inter- 
 rupting the gentleman addressed, " I shall have the 
 greatest need of my purse to hold what I shall win 
 from you both, if you have the courage to venture." 
 
 "Faith, I haven't the courage, Miss Vanbergen," 
 the lieutenant laughed. 
 
 "Nor I," echoed Mr. Ashton, in equal good 
 humour. "But if you really seek a wager, as I 
 was going to say, you have but to offer yourself 
 to Miss Boylston, who is so eager in the matter as 
 to be out of temper because none of her friends will 
 oppose her." 
 
22 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " And she is ready to give the handsomest odds," 
 the lieutenant added. 
 
 " I applaud the way you turn me off, gentlemen ; 
 but I am the better pleased to have you scorn my 
 wager for the reason that I much prefer to place 
 my savings with Miss Boylston. I thank you for 
 letting me know her inclination. But take my advice, 
 put your money on Black Dan. That is the best 
 way to keep it. Jacob, give me your arm to Miss 
 Boylston's carriage. Let us see, gentlemen, who 
 shall be readiest of us to put something into the 
 contribution -box next Sunday." 
 
 Miss Vanbergen made a half-curtsey as she took 
 Wilbruch's arm and moved away, throwing back at 
 the two young gentlemen such a smile of malicious 
 good humour as made them aware that there was 
 nothing on the island more provokingly pretty 
 than Luya Vanbergen's face, in which young love- 
 liness and keen intelligence had established a 
 compromise. 
 
 "Who the deuce is she?" eagerly asked Wallace 
 Waring, joining the lieutenant and Ashton as Luya 
 retired with Wilbruch. " That is one of your towns- 
 women, Ashton, you must have kept hidden from 
 me, and I shall hold a spite against you for it ! Who 
 is she ? What's her name ? Eh ? " 
 
 Ashton laughed. 
 
 " Have you been * shot through with a pretty 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2$ 
 
 wench's blue eye/ my dear Waring ? The blue eye 
 of a trader's daughter, into the bargain ? " 
 
 " Make no jests about it! Upon my word, 'tis the 
 first sight since I arrived in your cursed wilderness 
 that has reconciled me to my expatriation. Tell 
 me, lieutenant, who she is ! " Waring betrayed an 
 impatience which the lieutenant smilingly received. 
 
 " Miss Luya Vanbergen, daughter of one of the 
 rich Dutchmen who seem to be able to teach our 
 English merchants something in the way of trade. 
 Have you a mind to negotiate ? " 
 
 " If so, you will have to take account of the stout 
 fellow beside her there, for I think Mr. Wilbruch has 
 bespoke the merchandise." 
 
 " Which of you will do me the favour to introduce 
 me ? " Waring demanded. " I shall have a fever till 
 I know the lady." 
 
 "Then I'll be your physician," Ashton said, link- 
 ing his arm into Waring' s. " But I can tell you, and 
 the lieutenant here will certify the fact, that more 
 than one . of us have vainly undertaken to play 
 Lothario in this direction " 
 
 " Hang it, Ashton ! " Waring exclaimed, warmly 
 and with a look of genuine indignation, " I shall take 
 a second allusion of the sort as an affront ; and, by 
 your leave, I shall find another means to the lady's 
 acquaintance." 
 
 Waring released his arm from that of Mr. Ashton, 
 
24 W OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 lifted his hat with perhaps too stern a touch of trag- 
 ical seriousness in his manner and walked away in 
 dignified contempt of the pacificatory protests of the 
 young gentlemen. 
 
 " A pretty temper, that ! " said the lieutenant. 
 
 "A pepper-pod, egad ! " assented Mr. Ashton. 
 
 " If he were not such a gay devil of a rake over a 
 bottle and the card-table, I should think him the 
 damnable pattern of a prig." 
 
 " He's none of that. But you may stab me to the 
 heart with a herring-bone if he hasn't plunged mad 
 into love with the first sight of the Dutchman's 
 daughter." 
 
 " Then heaven send him some good of her ! Egad ! 
 they're off ! " 
 
 The shout of the people had attracted the lieuten- 
 ant's attention, and he looked toward the track in 
 time to see the eight horses charging in a bunch at 
 full speed ; and in the next instant they had passed 
 in a flash of colours, the mass thundering by, pretty 
 well together, with the English horse on the inner 
 curve and Black Dan on the outside, quite half a 
 length to the rear. 
 
 " A good start." 
 
 "Yes, we have the advantage," Ashton replied, 
 with an approving smile. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE horses, being in motion, became, of course, 
 the focus of every interest. Eyes and thoughts 
 were upon the dark patch circling rapidly against 
 the green undulations of the course, a roar of voices 
 indicating every slight change in the relative posi- 
 tions of the striving animals. 
 
 Jacob and Miss Vanbergen, having paused to wit- 
 ness the start, had not yet reached Miss Boylston's 
 carriage when the racers swept by to the completion 
 of the first mile. Black Dan, though holding the 
 third place, was quite a length and a half behind 
 the English horse, which seemed to keep the lead 
 with ease. A great shout of triumph attested the 
 satisfaction of the majority of the spectators, and 
 Miss Vanbergen looked with anxious inquiry into the 
 impassive face of her escort. 
 
 " What do you think, Jacob ? " 
 
 " I think Jim is giving Black Dan too much head." 
 
 " Too much head ! But he is way behind, Jacob ! " 
 
 "Not far enough behind, Luya." 
 
 " Not far enough behind ? Why, Jacob ! Do you 
 want Black Dan to lose the race ? " 
 
 2 5 
 
26 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " You know little Jim ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He is riding for his freedom." 
 
 " Ah, then he understands ! " 
 
 " Yes, Jim understands. He is only to push Dan 
 in the last heats." 
 
 They came up to the carriage on the seat of which 
 Miss Boylston was standing, a brilliant glow of ex- 
 citement in her face and eyes, and a gaiety of enthu- 
 siasm in her speech. Miss Boylston enjoyed the 
 distinction of being the belle of the polite world of 
 New York, and Miss Vanbergen, whose social prog- 
 ress had brought her only to the outer rim of the 
 charmed circle, thought the distinction well bestowed, 
 and looked with unconcealed admiration upon the 
 distinguished young lady. 
 
 "What a pity 'tis," Miss Boylston was saying, 
 "that I am allowed only a spectator's interest in 
 the sport ! I think some one might have been 
 gallant enough to pretend a faith in the black horse ! 
 La! here is Mr. Wilbruch. Surely, Mr. Wilbruch, 
 you are not like the others ! You will venture a 
 trifle on your own horse to give me a pleasure, I 
 warrant me ! Will you not ? " 
 
 "We have come with that object," Miss Van- 
 bergen answered for Jacob. " We heard of your 
 disappointment, and mean to console you. I will 
 take your offer." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 27 
 
 " La, Miss Vanbergen ! " Miss Boylston cried, af- 
 fecting only then to have seen the young lady. " How 
 do you do ? I did not suppose you had a mind for 
 hazards, I have never seen you at the tables. But 
 do you wager on conviction, or from friendship to 
 Mr. Wilbruch? Though it can matter but little 
 to which sentiment you sacrifice, I am ashamed 
 to take advantage of your devotion." Miss Boylston 
 spoke with amiable condescension. 
 
 " You need have no scruples, Miss Boylston, to 
 take advantage of my readiness to wager on Black 
 Dan's winning. I have a faith nothing wavering." 
 Miss Vanbergen's vivacious manner gave no evidence 
 that she felt the condescension of the aristocratic 
 young lady who believed that persons in trade had 
 in some way missed the divine leavening. 
 
 "And you allow her, Mr. Wilbruch ?" 
 
 "I have not the right to prevent her," Jacob 
 answered, simply. " But I think she will run no risk." 
 
 " Infatuation ! " exclaimed Miss Boylston. " But 
 look ! See where your horse is now ! " 
 
 The troop charged by for the second time as she 
 pointed, no longer in a bunch, but each one trailing 
 more and more behind the leader, with Black Dan 
 another length toward the rear. One would have 
 imagined the race to have been won, so mighty was 
 the roar of exultation as the beasts went straining 
 by the stand. 
 
28 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Are you still for a wager, Miss Vanbergen ? " 
 cried Miss Boylston, looking down at the couple. 
 " Do you think, now, there is no risk, Mr. Wil- 
 bruch ? " 
 
 " Fifty guineas, Miss Boylston, and I ask no 
 odds ! " 
 
 Miss Vanbergen had the manner of one throwing 
 an empire into the scales of destiny. Even Jacob 
 smiled, and Miss Boylston, laughingly, but with the 
 eager pleasure of an abandoned gamester, seized 
 upon the reckless advantage, Mr. Boylston, who had 
 listened in amused silence, graciously consenting to 
 hold the stakes. 
 
 " You are not as shrewd a bargainer as your 
 father, I fear, Miss Vanbergen," he laughed, as 
 that young lady thrust her crisp bank-notes into his 
 hand. 
 
 " You will find that I am a Vanbergen, after all, 
 Mr. Boylston," she answered, gaily, as she turned 
 away with Jacob, recognising a new thrill in the joy 
 of life now that she had given a gage to fortune. 
 This was her first wager, and she revelled in a sense 
 of heroic doing. Black Dan was no longer a mere 
 horse, under the spur and the whip ; he was an 
 embodied idea, self-consciously moving toward a goal 
 imperatively set for his attainment. Possibly, too, 
 Miss Vanbergen was intuitively aware of the fact 
 that the exhilarating incident was the beginning of 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK; 29 
 
 a rivalry which should have to do with stocks not 
 altogether of banking value. 
 
 Jacob and Miss Vanbergen were standing near the 
 paling above the wicket when the horses came 
 around in the third mile, and as they passed Jacob 
 called out : 
 
 " Yes, Jim." 
 
 The negro boy raised his whip in the air, making 
 a sign that he had heard and understood, and at the 
 heat's end Black Dan was an easy second. 
 
 This little manoeuvre passed unobserved by the 
 crowd, the stallion's advance being attributed, not 
 to his own merits, but to the deficiencies of the 
 third horse at the finish, and the crowd, swarming 
 on to the track, pressed around the English horse 
 with that idolatrous ardour which muscular success 
 always produces in the vulgar mind. 
 
 Miss Vanbergen, left alone for the moment, and 
 thinking with Jacob that " Dan is not worrying," 
 was turning toward the stand with the dutiful inten- 
 tion to rejoin her father, when a handsome young 
 gentleman in the elegance of fashion stepped before 
 her with a profound bow, at the same time giving 
 the jauntiest possible tilt to the silver-hilted sword 
 hanging at his side. 
 
 " I beg Miss Vanbergen's pardon." 
 
 The surprise which lifted Miss Vanbergen's pretty 
 eyebrows discovered the more clearly to her pleased 
 
30 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 glance the natural and fashioned allurements of the 
 young stranger, and her mind was inclined to be 
 lenient with such well-appearing impudence. She 
 paused, indulgent. 
 
 " I am Mr. Wallace Waring, at your service,' 1 
 raising his head to look at her, but with his body 
 still interrogatively inclined, and his hat held defer- 
 entially before him. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Stephen Waring' s son, no doubt ? I 
 had heard of your expected arrival." 
 
 She showed no disposition to move on, and he 
 thought there was a sort of parlant privilege in her 
 smile. 
 
 " I should have waited to have some one commend 
 me to your favour ; but, if you will accept of my 
 self-introduction, you shall have my certificates of 
 character when I can find them." 
 
 " I think we must have common acquaintances, 
 Mr. Waring. It should not be so difficult to find 
 your certificates. Were there none convenient ? " 
 She gave a mischievous glance and nod toward the 
 throng of gay people moving to and fro about them. 
 
 " I was seeking my father when I came upon you. 
 As your father and mine seem to have business 
 interests in common " 
 
 " Oh, as for that," Miss Vanbergen answered, 
 making a moue of comical misprise, "you are quite 
 in the way to begin by slipping into a mistake." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 31 
 
 " May I ask how ? " 
 
 " You should know better than I that your father 
 would not thank you for hinting that he has anything 
 to do with trade." 
 
 This was a challenge to prejudice which the young 
 gentleman chose to regard as a symptom of friendli- 
 ness. He put on his hat, smiled in a way to declare 
 a spirit superior to paternal foibles, and said, as he 
 offered Miss Vanbergen his arm : 
 
 " Since we are come so quick to an understanding, 
 Miss Vanbergen, I make bold to think you will let 
 me certify in my own behalf." 
 
 " I will permit you to escort me to my father," she 
 assented, taking his arm, frankly, and smiling into 
 his face ; " but I do not wish you to conclude from 
 that that I shall know you the next time I see you." 
 
 " But when, then, may I assume that you know 
 me?" 
 
 "When I have seen you under my father's roof." 
 
 " You give me leave to call ? " 
 
 " If you can find some one to fetch you." 
 
 " If not my father, I know not who may be agree- 
 able to you, I am yet so much a stranger here." 
 
 " I shall judge of your eagerness to make my 
 acquaintance by the length of time you take to find 
 a sponsor." 
 
 As Miss Vanbergen was not without her quota 
 of feminine vanities, it may be imagined that she 
 
32 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 received very complacently the flattering extrava- 
 gances called forth by her not too artless remark. 
 Mr. Waring, who had not been spoiled by an academic 
 devotion to his studies at the university, was well 
 schooled in the fulsome art of flattery, so esteemed 
 in a time when gallantry and skill with the bottle 
 were the conspicuous traits of a gentleman. 
 
 In spite of her declared theories as to the right 
 beginnings of acquaintance and his ready endorse- 
 ment of her views, the line of approach to the place 
 in the stand got insensibly twisted and tangled into 
 a labyrinth of wanderings ; and the horses, five only 
 of the starters, were being led on to the track for the 
 second heat when the young people finally arrived 
 at the steps. Neither of them was conscious of a 
 deviation from the direct course ; and if it were pos- 
 sible to believe that sentimental elements may fuse as 
 instantly as chemical properties are blended, it might 
 be concluded that the strangers of a few minutes 
 before were qualified lovers in the present moment. 
 Happily, both were enough ignorant of the alchemy 
 of love to imagine that nothing more unifying had 
 come between them than the merits of the horse-race. 
 
 Mr. Waring had been a fiery partisan of the Eng- 
 lish racer. Miss Vanbergen had replied to his attempt 
 to persuade her of his superior knowledge of horse- 
 flesh by the illogical but unanswerable declaration : 
 
 " La, Mr. Waring, I dare say you are very right in 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 33 
 
 what you say, but Black Dan is going to win the 
 race, because Jacob let me risk my money on him, 
 and Jacob would not have done that if he did not 
 know that Black Dan can win." 
 
 -Jacob?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Wilbruch, you know." 
 
 "Is Mr. Wilbruch so " he hesitated, the expres- 
 sion of his face intelligibly completing the sentence. 
 
 "Jacob is the best friend I have in the world," she 
 said, heartily, replying to his unspoken inquiry. 
 
 " Anything more ? " 
 
 " Good gracious, Mr. Waring ! Are you inquisi- 
 tive ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," bowing with that excess of 
 dignity which suggests the resentment one must 
 needs repress. 
 
 " I don't mind telling you, though," she said, much 
 gratified by her interpretation of his sudden reserve, 
 " that Jacob and I have grown up together, he was 
 my father's ward till he came of age, and any one 
 who cares for my esteem must have a friendly spirit 
 for Jacob. And for that reason I don't want you to 
 waste any more money betting against Jacob's horse." 
 
 She laughed and went up the steps, acknowledging 
 his reverence with a saucy nod of the head, leaving 
 him with the annoying reflection that, for the first 
 time in his life, his brain had been too sodden to 
 command the functions of speech. 
 
34 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 As he turned away to cross the sward to the track 
 from which the crowd was being cleared, Mr. Stephen 
 Waring came up to him. 
 
 " What have you been doing with yourself, Wal- 
 lace ? I've been looking for you. Come with me ; I 
 wish to introduce you to the Boylstons." 
 
 " First, I want to make some arrangement of my 
 bets. I find I'm on the wrong horse." 
 
 "You haven't been playing this Black Dan, 
 surely ? " Mr. Waring asked, incredulously. 
 
 "No ; but that is what I am going to do." 
 
 " Ridiculous ! You might as well wager on the 
 resurrection of your great-grandmother. Stand by 
 your colours. But I want you to know Miss Boyls- 
 ton," taking his arm and moving along with him ; 
 " she is the one creature in the colony I should like 
 to have catch your fancy." 
 
 "You are not thinking to put me in bondage, I 
 hope, sir ? " 
 
 " If you call it bondage to be in the favour of the 
 handsomest girl and the greatest heiress in New 
 York, that is what I am thinking of. It is what I 
 was thinking of when I sent for you. I've set my 
 heart upon it. I want the girl in the family," tapping 
 Wallace's arm good-humouredly. 
 
 " The girl or her money, sir ? " 
 
 "The girl and her money, Wallace! It is th< 
 combination that interests me." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Miss BOYLSTON, having left the carriage, was 
 holding a petty levee improvised under one of the 
 great elms that shaded an end of the lawn, and tea 
 was being served in tiny cups to the group about 
 her. She was in the vein to receive Mr. Wallace 
 Waring most graciously, and installed him in the 
 seat of honour beside her with such an air of cordial 
 interest that he fell at once into accord with her 
 spirit, to the secret delight of his father, who was 
 much given to making grave deductions from exter- 
 nal show. If the lady's state of mind could have 
 served as the basis of conclusions, Mr. Waring might 
 have reared his hopes with security, for, out of ques- 
 tion, Miss Boylston was more than sensible to the 
 masculine charm of person and manner exerted by 
 Mr. Wallace Waring. She admitted, in the smile 
 that followed her first glance, his merit as a figure of 
 fashion, and, finding from his conversation that he 
 did not fall hopelessly below her own intellectual 
 level, allowed to herself that he might be no mean 
 conquest, if her inclination should move her to the 
 35 
 
36 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 undertaking. Moreover, having sounded the shoals 
 and depths of the fixed society of her native place 
 without coming upon a virile treasure more to her 
 liking than Lieutenant Willett, whom she thought 
 too much in love with his epaulets to have much 
 affection left to bestow on a wife, Miss Boylston was 
 the readier to try the quality of the newcomer. She 
 became so much occupied with the initial skirmish 
 as to forget or disregard the horse-race which others 
 of her party had less reason to ignore, and she did 
 not fully realise that she was quite alone with Mr. 
 Wallace until a sudden great commotion and much 
 noise in the crowd informed them of an unusual 
 excitement. 
 
 Wallace, who had been less engrossed in the 
 frolics of their conversation, and who had a sports- 
 manlike passion for the turf that respect for the sex 
 could not altogether stifle, sprang to his feet with 
 profane enthusiasm, as he shouted : 
 
 "By gad, madam, I believe the black horse has 
 got the lead ! " 
 
 " Impossible ! " exclaimed Miss Boylston, starting 
 up in her turn. 
 
 " But a fact, as I'm a man of honour ! Look ! 
 You can see for yourself! There they come by 
 the third quarter pole!" 
 
 They were hurrying toward the open part of the 
 enclosure as he spoke, and the long reach of the 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 37 
 
 "home stretch" was in full view as they stopped on 
 a little rise of ground near the paling fence. 
 
 "Yes, the black horse is ahead," Miss Boylston 
 admitted, in tremulous excitement, " but I vow, Mr. 
 Waring, I think the English bay is coming up 
 again." 
 
 In truth, the English horse, Royal Oak on the 
 betting sheets, after slipping to second place, was 
 forging again into the lead, under the whip of the 
 jockey, and had recovered most of the lost ground 
 when they swept by the judge's stand, rushing on 
 into the second mile of the heat neck and neck 
 together. 
 
 It is not necessary to say how large a part in the 
 scene of hilarious disorder was played by the ladies, 
 but the assembly in general attested tumultuously 
 its relish of lusty sport when spiced with surprises, 
 and the feat of Royal Oak was a prodigiously fine 
 shock to enthusiasm. 
 
 When the racers came around, completing the 
 second mile, Royal Oak was half a length ahead 
 once more, but the more cool-headed onlookers, and 
 Miss Boylston herself was one of these, noted and 
 remarked upon the fact that Royal Oak was under 
 the whip, but that Black Dan's rider crouched in the 
 saddle like an inanimate carving in ebony. 
 
 " That is a killing pace ! " said Miss Boylston. 
 And others said so, too, when they learned that 
 
38 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 the two miles had been covered in something under 
 the four minutes. At the end of the third mile the 
 relative positions of the first two horses were much 
 the same as they were at its beginning ; but now, as 
 in the first heat, Jacob, leaning impassively against 
 the paling, shouted, as the rivals rushed by : 
 
 Yes, Jim ! " 
 
 The ebony figure raised his whip in the air as 
 before, but this time the thin lash came singing 
 down upon the stallion's flank, and Black Dan made 
 a leap to the front. Another slash and another leap, 
 and then the steady lunging in a lead that was not to 
 be overcome. The English horse had felt the whip 
 too much to be stung into greater energy by its fran- 
 tic use. He did not gain an inch for all the welts 
 lacing his reeking coat. 
 
 Every one seemed bent on getting on to the track 
 when the heat was done, with Black Dan the winner. 
 The stands were abandoned, the commoners surged 
 in a mass from their places, and in the confusion and 
 excitement every scruple went down before the gen- 
 erous democracy of sport. The spirit of fair play 
 was so untroubled in the crowd that even those in 
 danger of losing snug fortunes by the unexpected 
 turn of affairs tempered their disappointment by 
 admiration of the animal who had set their pulses 
 bounding. 
 
 Miss Vanbergen had managed to get to Jacob's 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 39 
 
 side, and his broad shoulders cleared her a path to 
 the centre of the track, where, the formalities over, a 
 ring was formed about the two horses who were to 
 run the final heat without other competitors. 
 
 " Wasn't it glorious ! Aren't you proud, Jacob ? 
 Did he not really surprise you ? " 
 
 " No, I knew what Black Dan had in him." Then, 
 looking at her with a smile as subtle as his honest 
 lips could fashion, he added, "I've had some talks 
 with Dan along the Boston High Road." 
 
 " Oh, Jacob ! I would not have thought you were 
 so crafty. Do you think he can do as well next 
 time ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it.' 1 
 
 Jacob led Miss Vanbergen up to the stallion being 
 blanketed by the grooms and with Jim standing, 
 saddle on arm, beside him. All the Whig world 
 roared out its joy of Black Dan in acclamation of 
 his owner. 
 
 " Three cheers for Jacob Wilbruch ! " cried out 
 a leather-garmented woodsman, flourishing his long 
 rifle aloft, and the cheers were given with energy. 
 
 "And three cheers for Royal Oak," Jacob re- 
 sponded, lifting his hat. Right lusty was the thrice 
 repeated answer. 
 
 The excitement continued after the horses had 
 been led away to the stables. An even-tempered 
 hubbub in the main, but not without some turbulence, 
 
40 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 for it is not in the nature of every man to drink 
 unguardedly and lose money with tranquillity. Nor 
 was it from the ranks of the vulgar that the greatest 
 disorder arose. At a time when gallantry and the 
 bottle were the gauges of a gentleman's quality, 
 sobriety was necessarily excluded from the list of 
 cardinal virtues ; and a young man of fashion would 
 rather have worn blemished lace on his front than 
 have suffered the question of his bibulous proficiency. 
 It was, then, quite consistent with the ordering of 
 exceptions to a general rule that Mr. Vinton Spencer, 
 a young gentleman refined to an effeminate nicety in 
 dress and appearance, should have been in a state of 
 mind to whip out his sword and thrust viciously at 
 the negro boy, Jim, on his way to the stable, crying : 
 
 " There is the damned black imp that will bring us 
 to destruction." 
 
 The first thrust having failed to do more than 
 make a hole in the sleeve of Jim's blouse, Mr. 
 Spencer was of a purpose to better the assault, 
 when the sword was wrested from his hand by Mr. 
 Jacob Wilbruch and broken into halves over that 
 gentleman's knee. 
 
 "That was not well done, Mr. Wilbruch," cried 
 Lieutenant Willett, stepping to the support of the 
 furious Mr. Spencer. 
 
 " I am of opinion it was superbly done, Lieutenant 
 Willett ! " exclaimed Mr. Wallace Waring, who had 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 41 
 
 left Miss Boylston in order to see Black Dan rubbed 
 down. 
 
 "He shall answer for it," screamed Mr. Spencer, 
 flinging himself forward at Jacob, but restrained by 
 some friendly hands. 
 
 "You think it well done to break a gentleman's 
 sword in that fashion, Mr. Waring ? " 
 
 "I have seen no gentleman's sword broken, 
 Lieutenant Willett." 
 
 "Do you insult me, sir?" shouted Mr. Spencer, 
 turning his rage from Jacob to Wallace. 
 
 " I think not," Wallace answered, coolly eyeing the 
 young man's threatening attitude. 
 
 " Mr. Waring," said Lieutenant Willett, as he took 
 Spencer by the arm, " there is no occasion to your 
 taking up a quarrel that cannot concern you. 'Tis 
 between my friend and Mr. Wilbruch. Mr. Spencer 
 was at some fault to thrust at the nigger, but the 
 nigger was insolent " 
 
 "In that you are wrong, lieutenant," said Jacob, 
 speaking for the first time; "Jim had said nothing." 
 
 " But he grinned into our faces, damn him ! " Mr. 
 Spencer exclaimed. " Insolence enough in that to 
 cost him his ears ! " 
 
 "Whatever the provocation to the act of my 
 friend," continued the lieutenant, "Mr. Wilbruch 
 offended against taste and honour in breaking his 
 sword. You cannot dissent from that." 
 
42 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "If a man make a dastardly use of his sword, 
 Lieutenant Willett, he is too much complimented 
 if an honest gentleman take the trouble to break it 
 for him. Mr. Wilbruch, I would be glad to see your 
 horse at nearer view ; will you allow me the favour ?" 
 
 " You shall hear from me ! " Mr. Spencer prom- 
 ised, as Jacob and Wallace went on toward the 
 stables, followed by Jim, who was rather proud to 
 have been the cause of so threatening a disagree- 
 ment between his betters. 
 
 The group attracted by the disturbance was not 
 disposed, it must be admitted, to take Wallace War- 
 ing's view of the provoking incident. The breaking 
 of a gentleman's sword in that summary way was 
 thought to be an act of ruffianly brutality, grossly 
 out of proportion to the trifling circumstance of 
 spitting a nigger, killing a black being only a 
 finable offence, under the wholesome law of the 
 day. 
 
 Mr. Spencer was therefore surrounded by sympa- 
 thisers as he leaned on the arm of Lieutenant Wil- 
 lett, going over to the Drovers' Inn, where they 
 might discuss their grievances to some purpose during 
 the wait for the final heat. 
 
 At the inn, one of the listeners to the highly 
 coloured variations upon the facts which it pleased 
 the imaginative Mr. Spencer to declaim was Gaspard 
 Renaud, said to have been of service to the colony 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 43 
 
 in some forgotten Indian campaign. This ancient 
 well-doing seemed to have secured to Gaspard a per- 
 petual right to be dissolutely indolent, the monotony 
 of his existence being relieved by occasional expedi- 
 tions after wolf scalps, the bounty on which gave 
 him enough for his scant needs during three or four 
 months of idleness. It was said of Gaspard that he 
 could put out a turkey's eye at a distance of three 
 hundred yards. Gaspard listened very attentively, 
 smoking his short black pipe. 
 
 After a time Lieutenant Willett left with a com- 
 mission to present the compliments of Mr. Vinton 
 Spencer to Mr. Jacob Wilbruch, most of the party 
 returning with him to the track. Mr. Spencer re- 
 mained to finish a bottle and some vagrant reflections 
 not of a character to give sunniness to his counte- 
 nance. When the bell rang to call the horses to 
 the course, Mr. Spencer paid his reckoning, flung 
 the petty change among some boys playing at bowls 
 on a stretch of turf, got on his feet unsteadily, and 
 set himself moving in the direction of the crowd. 
 Gaspard Renaud rose, knocked the ashes from his 
 pipe, and slouched away from the inn aimlessly, by 
 the merest chance following in the steps of Mr. 
 Spencer. 
 
 The story of the assault upon the negro boy Jim, 
 much exaggerated by repetitions, and numerous alter- 
 cations in which the arguments of the fist were 
 
44 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 substituted for those of the tongue, had done all that 
 was necessary to swell the normal interest in the 
 race into an intemperate zeal of partisanship. Natu- 
 rally enough, the non-betters were the more tumultu- 
 ous in the expression of their ardour, and, not being 
 hindered by material considerations, were the more 
 ready to change sides that they might be with the 
 victor, whatever his colour. When the horses came 
 on to the track for the decisive struggle, the least 
 discriminating ear in the multitude would have had 
 no difficulty in deciding that the preponderance of 
 noise was on the side of Black Dan. Some of the 
 more cautious gamesters quietly protected their bets 
 on Royal Oak, but the young gentlemen, with sports- 
 manlike fidelity to the cause espoused, were generally 
 of a spirit to stand by the " foreigner," though they 
 refrained from adding to the money value of their 
 sentiments. Indeed, very little new money was being 
 wagered, when, just as the horses were off, with 
 Royal Oak a feather in advance, Mr. Vinton Spencer 
 came, flushed and feverish, into the midst of a group, 
 flourishing a handful of notes aloft, and shouting : 
 
 " Five to one on Royal Oak for as much as you 
 please ! " 
 
 " I'll take that for a hundred ! " said Mr. Allen 
 Bradford, who had been a supporter of Black Dan 
 from the outset. 
 
 " No, no, Bradford," interposed Lieutenant Willett, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 45 
 
 in what was meant to be an undertone, " don't you 
 see that Vint is drunk ? " 
 
 " Drunk ! " protested Mr. Spencer. " I am as 
 sober as yourself, lieutenant. I know what I am 
 about, I promise you. Out with your money, Brad- 
 ford ; Willett shall hold the pigs for us. There are 
 mine." 
 
 "There are no such odds; Mr. Bradford will not 
 take advantage of your liberality. At best, 'tis an 
 even chance." 
 
 " You are wrong, lieutenant," Mr. Spencer urged, 
 with a significant shake of the head, " but I'm for 
 Bradford on an even hundred, if he will take me." 
 
 But Mr. Bradford, agreeing with the lieutenant 
 upon the injudicious character of Mr. Spencer's 
 emotion, declined the offer politely, and the tipsy 
 young gentleman meandered through the throng in 
 quest of more obliging amateurs. 
 
 Every one was more engrossed in the eager excite- 
 ment of watching the swift-moving figures gliding 
 like silhouettes against the splash of ensanguined gold 
 left by the runaway sun. Two better matched racers 
 had never pounded the turf of the Church Farm oval. 
 They rounded the first mile so well together that the 
 tail of one might have swished the rump of the other, 
 and the delighted onlookers discharged a vocal salvo 
 that probably reechoed from the Brooklyn Heights. 
 
 Wallace Waring had found his way to Miss Van- 
 
46 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 bergen, and had become magnetised into a confirmed 
 Dan-ite by the fire of her enthusiasm. 
 
 " You see what Mr. Wilbruch's tactics have been, 
 to keep the horses at their highest speed from start 
 to finish. He relies on Black Dan's powers of en- 
 durance to win." 
 
 " And Black Dan could go on for ever that way," 
 cried Miss Vanbergen, in a transport. 
 
 " But Royal Oak is getting too much of it," Wal- 
 lace replied, with more cheerfulness than was relig- 
 iously in keeping with his early devotion to that 
 valiant animal. 
 
 Round came the flyers again, and again they van- 
 ished down the quarter stretch, the bay throwing off 
 clots of foam, the black shining like a spaniel fresh 
 from a waterway. At the half-mile pole, Jim's arm 
 rose and fell twice in quick succession, and Black 
 Dan had made two of his masterful bounds which 
 gave him a neck to the fore. In that position the 
 third mile was completed and the fourth begun. The 
 crowd became delirious. The race was won. Strain 
 as he might, Royal Oak could not hope to inch past 
 that tireless engine leaping with great even springs, 
 as if the first instead of the last of the twelve 
 hard miles were loosening his muscles. Cheers and 
 laughter and shouts, bravoes and screams from the 
 crowd, a frantic throwing aloft of hats and a mad 
 wave of handkerchiefs, as the horses, hidden a 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 47 
 
 moment from view by a clump of bushes near the 
 three-quarter pole, came swerving around the bend 
 into the straight sweep home. But in that instant 
 the foremost horse was seen to rear in the air, lunge 
 forward, and fall in a heap, the dark mass lying 
 motionless as Royal Oak sped on and finished alone. 
 Over the clump of bushes, a thing unnoticed by any 
 one in the dumfounded multitude, a thin white patch 
 of cloud floated for a moment and dissolved in the 
 breeze. 
 
 Jacob was the first to leap the paling and start on 
 a run up the track, but thousands were close behind 
 him, men and women and children, the gentry and 
 those of low degree following breathlessly, stirred, 
 maybe, by a nobler emotion than curiosity, for 
 the boy Jim had not risen from that still mass 
 on the beaten turf. 
 
 Black Dan had fallen shot through the heart, and 
 the boy lay crushed beneath him. 
 
 Nigger boy Jim rode for his freedom that day. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR. ZENGER'S paper, appearing two days later, in 
 its appointed time of the week, contained an adequate 
 though brief review of the Church Farm events and 
 casualties. Patriotic zeal tended somewhat to em- 
 bitter Mr. Zenger's comment, and he possibly went 
 beyond the proper limits of journalistic license in 
 denouncing " the vicious interruption of the race in 
 the barbarous killing of a noble animal and the 
 incidental sacrifice of a human, though humble, life." 
 He could see in the affair only another of those acts 
 of tyrannous oppression which the policy of wretched 
 King George and his unscrupulous ministers em- 
 ployed to crush the rising spirit of independence 
 in the colonies. He had no sort of doubt that a 
 royalist conspiracy against the expansion of native 
 genius had determined this " atrocious dishonour of 
 sport," and burned with indignation that the judges 
 had declared for "no race," instead of awarding the 
 victory to the splendid creature slain in the very 
 moment of his certain triumph. 
 
 This was the concluding paragraph of Mr. Zenger's 
 article : 
 
 4 8 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 49 
 
 " In the confusion and indignation of the people, 
 the perpetrator of the deed had time to make off 
 before search for him was thought of. Then, Mr. 
 Wilbruch and Mr. Wallace Waring, the new-arrived 
 son of our distinguished townsman, Mr. Stephen 
 Waring, set off together, followed by a hundred or 
 more stout citizens and farmers, to scour the neigh- 
 bourhood for the miscreant. They were able to 
 track him to Beekman's Swamp, but the nature of 
 the place and the coming on darkness were to the 
 advantage of the fugitive, and trace of him was lost, 
 though the chase was not given over until far into 
 the night and after a party with torches had beaten 
 the swamp as well as might be. The pity of it is 
 that the villain has, for the time, escaped vengeance ; 
 but Mr. Wilbruch has offered, as may be seen by his 
 advertisement elsewhere printed in this paper, a re- 
 ward of 100 for the fellow's apprehension, a 
 reward large enough, in all conscience, to give 
 some hope of justice being done right speedily, it 
 being out of question that the fellow has accom- 
 plices." 
 
 While the polite subscribers to Mr. Zenger's paper 
 were reading this article and wondering how it would 
 compare with the account Mr. de Foreest should pre- 
 sent in the Evening Post of the next Monday, the 
 point of honour between Mr. Vinton Spencer and 
 Mr. Jacob Wilbruch was in a way to be settled in 
 
50 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 a bowery garden at Golden Hill. Mr. Spencer 
 was accompanied by Lieutenant Willett. Jacob 
 had gratefully accepted the volunteered services of 
 Wallace Waring, a friendly sympathy having been 
 established between the two by the circumstances 
 of their acquaintance. 
 
 Mr. Philip Ashton and Mr. Allen Bradford were 
 also of the party. The six young men, having ex- 
 changed greetings, strolled down into a secluded 
 part of the garden without betraying to the good 
 dame who kept the house any sinister purpose, and 
 set themselves promptly to the business of their 
 meeting. 
 
 Some perfunctory things were said in a genteel 
 fashion as to the conveniences of a reconciliation, 
 and Mr. Wilbruch had declared with much frankness 
 that he knew of no reason why he should wish to do 
 Mr. Vinton Spencer an injury. Mr. Spencer in his 
 turn, with a strangeness of manner that piqued the 
 lieutenant, made answer : 
 
 " I must cross swords with Mr. Wilbruch for my 
 credit's sake." 
 
 And cross swords they did right prettily, the 
 astonishing skill and lightness of Mr. Spencer being 
 a match for the superior strength and tolerable deft- 
 ness of Mr. Wilbruch' s play ; so that it occasioned 
 no small surprise when, after five minutes of danger- 
 ous thrusting and parrying, Mr. Spencer's sword made 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 51 
 
 a" lively parabola into a bush six feet away, leaving 
 that gentleman's breast quite at the mercy of his 
 adversary's point. 
 
 Mr. Wilbruch saluted as if it had been the friend- 
 liest of fencing bouts, and signalled Mr. Spencer to 
 recover his sword. 
 
 Mr. Spencer cast an irresolute glance in the direc- 
 tion of his sword, drew the sleeve of his shirt across 
 his forehead, and, to the utter consternation of Lieu- 
 tenant Willett, cried out : 
 
 " It's all a damned farce, my pretending to defend 
 my honour. I haven't got any honour." 
 
 "What the devil are you saying, Spencer!" ex- 
 claimed the lieutenant, the others showing no less 
 perplexity of countenance. 
 
 " I'm not fit to fight with a man of honour, for 
 I'm a blackguard." 
 
 " Spencer ! " 
 
 " It's true ! I'm worse than a blackguard ! For 
 it was I who brought about that thing of the race. 
 I paid for the shot that killed Black Dan ! " 
 
 This was an incredible sort of confession. The 
 men were stupefied by it. They stood staring at 
 Spencer in silence. Jacob had made an involuntary 
 movement forward, and his hand gripped harder the 
 hilt of his sword, but unbelief arrested him. The 
 thing was too monstrous. 
 
 " I don't remember it all," Spencer went on, like 
 
 
52 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 one unworthy and indifferent to judgment; "the 
 most of it is a mere shadow in my mind. But I 
 remember a man came to me, and asked, 'What 
 would it be worth to you if the black horse should 
 lose ? ' I don't know what I answered, but I know 
 he said, ' Give me twenty pounds, and the black horse 
 shall stumble if he is ahead in the last mile.' I don't 
 know what I was thinking of. I gave him the money. 
 I didn't realise anything about it all until I saw the 
 little nigger boy, and knew that I had killed him. 
 I hadn't thought of anything like that, I know. I 
 hadn't even thought of harm to the horse. I didn't 
 know what that devil had in mind to do. I was only 
 thinking of a stumble. But I'm a blackguard in the 
 best of it. I only crossed swords with Mr. Wilbruch 
 because I didn't want to be thought a coward among 
 the rest." 
 
 Spencer turned to take up his coat. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Lieutenant Willett, addressing 
 the others, "I give you my word I knew nothing of 
 this." 
 
 "That as a matter of course, lieutenant," said Mr. 
 Bradford, bowing, Jacob and Wallace acquiescing in 
 like manner. 
 
 Jacob moved over toward Spencer. 
 
 " Who was the man ? " he asked, by no means in 
 a conciliatory tone. 
 
 Spencer looked up, a momentary tinge of resent- 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 53 
 
 ment giving a dignity to the pallor of his delicately 
 feminine face. 
 
 "You don't expect me to answer that question, 
 Mr. Wilbruch ? " 
 
 " But I do expect you to answer it ! " 
 
 "Then I decline. The fellow acted at my instiga- 
 tion. I won't denounce him. I stand in his place. 
 I take the responsibility." 
 
 " He is right," said Wallace, taking Jacob's arm. 
 " The real culprit is here. It would need Mr. Spen- 
 cer's testimony to convict the fellow who fired the 
 shot, and I fancy Mr. Spencer will not care to send 
 another man to wear a prison garb that belongs on 
 his own shoulders." 
 
 " You put the case too bluntly, Mr. Waring," said 
 Mr. Ashton. " I protest I think Mr. Spencer more 
 the victim of circumstances than you seem willing 
 to allow." 
 
 "That may be claimed for any man who finds 
 himself in a false position, Mr. Ashton," Wallace 
 replied. " Few of us, I take it, would be at fault if 
 circumstances were wholly in our control." 
 
 "We are not to discuss ethics, I suppose," the 
 lieutenant said, taking up Spencer's sword as he 
 spoke. "The question is as to what course Mr. 
 Wilbruch is resolved to pursue. You are the only 
 material sufferer by the accident, Mr. Wilbruch, 
 and, though the loss is not to be repaired alto- 
 
54 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 gether, I am sure Mr. Spencer will arrange to meet 
 the money value of your property." 
 
 "And I know not what more can be asked," Mr. 
 Ashton volunteered, as he dipped his fingers into his 
 snuff-box and inhaled a pinch, judicially. 
 
 "The money value is the least consideration," 
 Jacob answered. "I think my boy Jim was mur- 
 dered as much as if the bullet had been fired into 
 his heart. I don't know what the law might think 
 of it ; I think of it as murder, and I make no 
 compromise with crime." 
 
 Spencer paled and looked askance at Jacob. 
 
 "Do you mean that you will lodge complaint 
 against him ? " demanded the lieutenant. 
 
 " No ; but I shall use what means I may to dis- 
 cover the man who fired that shot." 
 
 The lieutenant handed the sword to Spencer, who 
 was about to put it in place at his side, when Wallace 
 made a sign to arrest him. 
 
 " Wait one moment. I think we are agreed with- 
 out words to keep Mr. Spencer's confession a secret 
 among ourselves ; but I think it proper we should 
 take account of his well, offences ; and, for my 
 part, I shall object to seeing the chief badge of a 
 gentleman hanging at the hip of one who has " 
 
 " Mr. Waring," Spencer interrupted, taking his 
 sword by the blade, and tendering Wallace the hilt, 
 " I make no excuses for my conduct ; I resent noth- 
 
IN 1 OLD NEW YORK. 55 
 
 ing you have to say, since the worst you can say of 
 me must fall short of what I have said of myself. But 
 intention must have something to do with dishonour. 
 I claim some little on that score. You may take my 
 sword ; I am content to be without it until you 
 return it to me as gentleman to gentleman." 
 
 This was an unconsciously well-contrived theatrical 
 effect on Mr. Spencer's part. The young gentlemen, 
 taken by surprise, were inclined to regard it as an 
 effectively eloquent bit of heroic sentiment, and it 
 touched the magnanimous side of them rather com- 
 mandingly. Mr. Waring, taking the sword with 
 some indecision, bowed, as if apologising for the 
 act, and, in his turn, handed the weapon to Jacob. 
 Mr. Wilbruch, holding it in an embarrassed way for 
 a little time, during which time he seemed to be 
 balancing the steel against some mental scruples, 
 said, at length : 
 
 " I am willing to allow Mr. Spencer to decide for 
 himself when he shall wear it." 
 
 Whereupon, he returned the sword to its owner. 
 
 Lieutenant Willett had a cynical appreciation of 
 the sentimental vapours which make life rosy for 
 so many of us, and he discovered a comical element 
 in the serious aspects of the three principal figures 
 in the scene. 
 
 "Well," he said, with a smile that was nigh of 
 kin to a laugh, " since we are all of an accord in the 
 
56 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 matter, put your sword in its scabbard, Spencer, and 
 let us to the Black Horse Tavern, where I shall be 
 pleased to entertain the party at dinner." 
 
 But they went their several ways, Wallace with 
 Jacob to make his first call upon Miss Luya Van- 
 bergen. 
 
 Mr. Spencer set out two days later, filled with a 
 heroic fantasy, to join the New England volunteers 
 besieging Louisburg. He arrived in time to witness 
 the surrender of the French after a scandalous and 
 ineffectual defence of their almost impregnable fort. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 MR. STEPHEN WARING was a man of reflective 
 ambitions. That is to say, he planned not for his 
 own, but for his son's aggrandisement. Amiable 
 enough, as the world goes, he nourished some preju- 
 dices that gave a slight obliquity to his character, 
 and made him rather more attentive to material than 
 to moral values, but which were not pronounced 
 enough to put in peril the intense respectability in 
 which his soul reposed. He had never been able to 
 forgive his grandfather the misdemeanour of crowd- 
 ing into a family already overstocked with six lusty 
 boys, and, in rebuke of that ancestral want of fore- 
 thought, he determined that his own first-born and 
 last-born should be incorporated in one. " Since 
 the law takes it upon itself to discriminate between 
 early and late comers," he declared, in the bitterness 
 of his envious youth, " I'll see to it that my heirs 
 arrive together. That is the only way in which I 
 can be just to all my children." Whether or not he 
 would have adhered to the resolution had Fate not 
 come to his support, it is hardly worth while to con- 
 sider. When Mrs. Waring saw that Wallace was 
 
 57 
 
58 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 well ushered into being, she seemed to conclude 
 that she had performed to the full her Christian 
 duty, and the sigh that slipped through the wan 
 lips parted by a smile was the flight of her spirit 
 to its reward. 
 
 Mr. Waring was, at that time, a barrister whose 
 talents the British public had not yet learned to 
 esteem, and he knew to the nicest tilt of the scales 
 how many ounces of meat a week were within the 
 limits of genteel poverty. As he believed poverty 
 to be as much a disease as any other infirmity of 
 the flesh, he devoted himself to its cure in his own 
 case. Though little came of his efforts in the first 
 years, a persevering energy, fortified by an unshak- 
 able faith in himself, proved ultimately to be a 
 sovereign remedy, and when Wallace arrived at col- 
 legiate years he found none of his demands upon 
 the paternal source of supply too extravagant for 
 immediate acknowledgment, and that, too, without 
 a precept being attached to the cheque. 
 
 Had Mr. Waring's physical forces been equal to 
 the strain put upon them by his mental vitality, he 
 might have ended his fortunate days on the King's 
 Bench, and been be-lorded to his heart's content. 
 The distribution being unequal, he was compelled, 
 while yet in the flower of his age, to quit the bar, 
 and go voyaging for health. He left Wallace in 
 the care of relatives who were grateful to profit by 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 59 
 
 his keep, and came on a visit to the colonies. Than 
 New York Bay and its surroundings the prodigal 
 earth could offer the eye no more perfect vision 
 of beauty, before Mammon had laid waste God's 
 handiwork, and Mr. Waring was enchanted as his 
 ship sailed into the port. The hospitality of his 
 reception completed the charm, and his visit imper- 
 ceptibly grew into residence ; before he was well 
 aware of it, he had " interests " in the thriving town. 
 Here Mr. Waring's prejudices became convictions. 
 His had been a life of money-getting, with only the 
 remote possibility of honours in old age. His son 
 must start life with the money already in hand. He 
 had married for love, without a thought of bettering 
 his material condition or extending his social influ- 
 ence. His son must take a more practical view of 
 hymeneal usage. He had entered into competition 
 with an army of eager aspirants under the restric- 
 tions of an ancient and tradition-environed society. 
 His son should have the advantages of a new field 
 and a limited rivalry. 
 
 Detesting trade as the very foundation of vul- 
 garity, Mr. Waring was shrewd enough to see that 
 the mercantile spirit of the steadily developing port 
 was the Prospero of the island. He resolved to 
 make use of trade without becoming identified with 
 its agents. After a season of careful investigation, 
 he ascertained that the most sagacious, or, at any 
 
60 IN OLD NEW YORK:. 
 
 rate, the luckiest of the more extensive merchants 
 was Evert Vanbergen, the grandson of one Claes 
 Vanbergen, a stout Hollander who had come over 
 when Kieft was governor of New Amsterdam, by 
 grace of the West Indies Company. Mr. Waring 
 decided to sound the Dutchman. 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen lived in a quaint Dutch house, the 
 grass-plat in front of which ran down to unite with 
 the turf of the wide Parade, where Fashion came of 
 an afternoon to idle an hour or two in the shade 
 of the wide branching elms. He sat, a picture of 
 round content and prosperous ease, on his front 
 stoop, one afternoon, leisurely smoking his long- 
 stemmed pipe, when Mr. Waring strolled by, con- 
 triving to drop his handkerchief as he passed. Mr. 
 Vanbergen, who always reached conclusions by a 
 deliberate process of intellection, regarded the lace- 
 trimmed fabric so long without signalling its owner 
 that Mr. Waring began to doubt the success of his 
 strategem, and was on the point of turning back when 
 Mr. Vanbergen called. Recovering his handkerchief, 
 Mr. Waring addressed some pleasantries of thanks 
 to the complacent Dutchman, and paused to add a 
 compliment on the view to be had from the door- 
 steps. 
 
 "Ja," Mr. Vanbergen assented, while a good- 
 humoured light spread over his ruddy face, " 'tis 
 very fine, Mr. Waring." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 6 1 
 
 " You know me, then ? " Mr. Waring asked. 
 
 "Oh, ja," Mr. Vanbergen laughed, "ve know all 
 t'e strangers t'at coom." 
 
 In a few minutes the two men were seated together 
 on the stoop bench, talking amicably of the town's 
 prospects and of the steady increase of the English 
 population, Mr. Vanbergen having that gracious air 
 of proprietary benevolence with which a native always 
 enlightens a visitor as to the merits and wonders 
 of a community. Having shaped the conversa- 
 tion favourably to his purpose, Mr. Waring at length 
 intimated that he had an idle capital which he should 
 not object to put to use if he could find a proper 
 person with whom to entrust it. 
 
 "Ja," said Mr. Vanbergen, complacently puffing 
 out the fumes of his fragrant Virginia leaf, " 'tis 
 a goot t'ing to to." 
 
 The gaze of his indolent gray eyes went over the 
 Parade and beyond the Battery, exploring the patch- 
 less blue of the sky curving over the scarcely ruffled 
 turquoise of the bay and blending with the azure 
 haze that covered, like a delicate enamel, the Jersey 
 distance. There was no avidity in that serene face. 
 Mr. Waring recognised the necessity of a straight- 
 forward, unequivocal proposition. The Dutchman 
 offered too ingenuous or too subtle a resistance for 
 the employment of tactical methods. 
 
 "In short, Mr. Vanbergen," Mr. Waring began, 
 
62 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 with affable candour, " what I learn of your character 
 and business capacity informs me that I can make 
 no better use of my money than to associate it with 
 your enterprise. If I put in a sum to equal or 
 approximate your capital, you would double your 
 undertakings and probably quadruple your profits. 
 You are a business man, there is no need that I 
 waste words." 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen went regularly to the church and 
 said his nightly prayers with pious devotion, but, 
 for all that, trade was his religion, not because the 
 love of gain was in his soul, but because far-reaching 
 commerce was a superb trial of genius as he con- 
 ceived it, and to be a great merchant as a result of 
 one's own achieving was, in his opinion, to compass 
 the glory of the earth. His present ambition was to 
 be first among the merchants of New York, and the 
 doubling of his operative power would place him so 
 near to the realisation of that haunting dream that 
 Mr. Waring' s suggestion of the thing produced in 
 him a joy that was apoplectic in its effects. The rud- 
 diness of his face was intensified into darkness. His 
 eyes stared fixed and protruding. His tongue seemed 
 to fill his mouth. A stupor came upon him. Mr. 
 Waring, looking at the gay crowd in the Parade, was 
 unaware of Mr. Vanbergen' s peril, and ascribed the 
 silence to the deliberation of his host. He allowed 
 time for the momentous reflection, and when at last 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 63 
 
 he turned with a question, Mr. Vanbergen was puff- 
 ing his pipe as calmly as a contented creature should 
 smoke. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Vanbergen?" 
 
 "Veil, Mr. Varing?" 
 
 " What do you say to my offer ? " 
 
 "Veil, Mr. Varing, I t'ink t'at I petter manatge 
 my pusiness by myself. I haf my own vay, ant I 
 ton't t'ink some ot'er man's vays vould suit me." 
 
 " Then, Mr. Vanbergen, we can easily come to an 
 arrangement, and you anticipate what I was in the 
 way to propose. I should wish to leave the manage- 
 ment of our interests wholly in your hands. In fact, 
 I do not intend to be known in the matter at all. I 
 have no taste for trade. To be open with you, I could 
 not afford to have it supposed that I was engaged in 
 business. Any agreement between us would be of a 
 private and confidential nature. I should not inter- 
 fere with you in any way. We should simply divide 
 the profits. All our transactions would be here at 
 your house, you would not see me at your place of 
 business." 
 
 " Ho ! T'en you are ashamet of t'e pusiness, Mr. 
 Varing?" 
 
 "You are aware, Mr. Vanbergen, that a man of 
 my position " He hesitated, unwilling to wound 
 the sensibilities of the easy-tempered merchant. 
 
 "Ho! I unterstant I unterstant," Mr. Van- 
 
64 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 bergen interposed, with a suspicion of irritation in 
 the tone. " You are a gentleman, and gentlemans 
 are much too fine for trate. Veil, t'e one goot t'ing 
 apout tam fools is t'at t'ey ton't know vat tam fools 
 t'ey are." 
 
 " Mr. Vanbergen ! " 
 
 " Oh, you can't help it ! I ton't plame you ; 
 I only feel sorry ven a man is tam fools, t'at is all, 
 Mr. Varing. It is not' ing vat you t'ink if your 
 money haf sense. I can to very veil vitout you, Mr. 
 Varing, if I haf your money." 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen laughed, self-restored to good- 
 nature, and in the course of the next half-hour they 
 had come to an understanding that put them on very 
 good terms the one with the other ; and at the end 
 of six weeks Mr. Waring had formally entered into 
 the state of dormant partner, a state he found more 
 and more to his liking as the years went by with 
 gradually increasing returns from Mr. Vanbergen's 
 ever expanding trade. 
 
 And these years of plenty were those in the course 
 of which Wallace Waring advanced from Eton to 
 Oxford, quit Oxford without discredit for a finishing 
 tour of Europe, played ducks and drakes with his 
 allowance in learning the follies of the several capi- 
 tals, and, finally, with undisguised reluctance, set 
 sail for the New World to join the father he had 
 seen but once in the eight or ten years, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 65 
 
 "In sending for you," the parent had written in 
 his mandatory letter, " I am governed by the liveli- 
 est concern for your welfare. You are now at an 
 age when each of your acts must be considered with 
 reference to your future, and I hope to find you as 
 much concerned for the brilliancy as I have been 
 solicitous for the material solidity of that future. 
 You have been taught self-reliance from your boy- 
 hood, and I have put so little restraint upon your 
 conduct relying entirely for good results upon the 
 perfect trust of our mutual relations that I have 
 been blamed for cultivating in you a prodigal habit 
 that augured ill for your manhood. I need not 
 assure you, my dear Wallace, that I am both proud 
 and thankful to find myself so free from cause to 
 blame the indulgence so much deplored by those of 
 our family who should have known to judge you 
 better. I have nothing with which to reproach you. 
 Even your ' reckless extravagances,' so invariably a 
 subject of reprobation in the letters of your Uncle 
 Northcote, have been a source of satisfaction to me, for 
 I have argued from them that you kept yourself in 
 such company as I would have you cultivate. I think 
 it the part of a gentleman to maintain a place among 
 his social equals by as much freedom of purse as 
 good breeding and the limits of his fortune will per- 
 mit. Tis better to err in the direction of excess 
 than toward niggardliness, for the one is a fault of 
 
66 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 judgment that may be rectified with advice; the 
 other indicates a blemish of character that is most 
 certain to degenerate into a vice. 
 
 "But there comes a time when a luxurious idle- 
 ness must indicate a want of ambition and betray a 
 moral deficiency which makes impossible the round- 
 ing out of manly honour. Though I believe you to 
 be in no danger from dissipation, and that you would 
 of your own accord presently give your attention 'to 
 some ennobling occupation, I am resolved to have you 
 with me, confident that the opportunities here offered 
 are more favourable to your rapid advancement than 
 those you are like to find in your native city. I 
 have some plans which, if you will lend yourself to 
 them, can hardly fail to secure to you that entrance 
 into the social and political life of this community 
 which will mean more to you in a few years' time 
 than any dancing attendance upon the wearing and 
 wasting possibilities of London life. Do not let 
 your aversion to what you term 'colonial crude- 
 ness' deceive your judgment. My word for it, you 
 will have much reason to correct your prejudices. 
 
 "It is my desire that you sail not later than the 
 end of April or beginning of May of the coming 
 spring, and if the enclosed cheque be not enough 
 for your use until then, you know that my London 
 bankers have instructions to see that you suffer no 
 ill from empty pockets." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 6? 
 
 After the dutiful manner of sons who have 
 nothing to gain by disobedience, Mr. Wallace War- 
 ing set about putting himself in readiness to conform 
 to orders, making such privileged use of his remain- 
 ing time that the courtesy of the city bankers had 
 twice to be invoked before he took coach to board 
 his sailing vessel. 
 
 The young gentleman arrived in New York in 
 time to sit at table with a notable gathering of the 
 foremost citizens, met for the masculine celebration 
 of a princely birth, or some equally mighty event. 
 And when they had got down to the mahogany, 
 there began such a drinking of ardent punch to the 
 toasting of every sentiment under the sun that 
 strangers of the hour vapoured into the familiari- 
 ties of a lifetime's fellowship. Before the last cup 
 was drunk and the last pipe was broken, Wallace 
 had exchanged embraces with half the young blades 
 of the revel. 
 
 This experience, the events and incidents of the 
 race, and a pretty party at Miss Boylston's the night 
 following, made Wallace feel himself thoroughly and 
 not disagreeably initiated into the life of the com- 
 munity which destiny had appointed to his residence. 
 But it was the light from Luya Vanbergen's eyes 
 which dispelled the mists of old world longings from 
 his mind and permitted him to see in this narrowly 
 closed-in town the Beulah land of his seeking. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BETWEEN a willingness to oblige his father to a 
 reasonable extent, and an inclination to please him- 
 self in a corresponding degree, Mr. Wallace Waring 
 suffered much tribulation of mind and conscience 
 in the course of the weeks immediately succeeding 
 the " great race." In numerous visits to the family 
 mansion, he had found Miss Boylston very agreeable, 
 in spite of a worldly pride that occasionally touched 
 upon arrogance ; and he could not deny the advan- 
 tages she might give to a domestic establishment 
 organised according to the general rule of conve- 
 nience. He even went so far as to admit to himself 
 that he might not have found it difficult to adapt 
 himself to the situation so earnestly contrived by 
 his father, if his ideas had not been confused by the 
 twinkle of a pair of blue eyes in no way related to 
 Miss Sophie Boylston. 
 
 " What you say, sir," he said, in one of the 
 conversations with his father on the subject, "is not 
 to be disputed, for Miss Boylston. is well worth any 
 man's attention. But I find, for all that, that I 
 
 6S 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 69 
 
 have no sentiment toward the lady which inclines 
 me to marriage." 
 
 " Twaddle, my dear Wallace. Interest is the first 
 motive to a sensible marriage, that is, the marriage 
 of substantial character and lasting happiness," the 
 elder gentleman urged. " Sentiment is very well 
 as an incident, and may be cultivated at your leisure. 
 But judicious selection, with your judgment clear, 
 after a careful consideration of relative advantages, 
 and with an understanding of the mutual interests 
 involved, is the only rational course in marriage, my 
 boy. The sane marriage is a practical result of 
 intelligent calculation ; and the love-in-a-cottage sort 
 of thing is an intemperance, the fantastic prank of 
 a fevered brain. If you begin the partnership 
 marriage should be a partnership with an equal 
 investment of interests, and with a reciprocal respect 
 one for the other, you lay the most secure founda- 
 tion upon which marital happiness can rear itself, 
 I assure you, Wallace." 
 
 " I think, sir, that was hardly your theory when 
 you married my mother," Wallace ventured, smiling. 
 
 A shadow of old grief came into Mr. Waring's 
 eyes, and he spoke more as if he were speaking to 
 himself than answering his son. 
 
 " I thought I loved your mother, and married her 
 with scarcely a pound in my pocket. She was one 
 of the sweet souls of the world, and the hardships 
 
70 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 never took the gentleness out of her voice nor the 
 affection out of her heart. But in the three years 
 during which she struggled with me, I learned that 
 I had never loved her, that I had only gratified 
 myself in marrying her, that it was selfishness, a 
 cruel selfishness to which I had sacrificed her life, 
 though I did not realise it all until I knelt by her 
 coffin and heard her child cry from a stranger's arms 
 in the other room." 
 
 There was a little unsteadiness in Mr. Waring's 
 voice, and, to rid himself of it, he rose abruptly, 
 traversing, the room as he said, in a louder tone, 
 " Money, Wallace, is this world's god. Money and 
 position are the only powers that can unlock the 
 dungeon of greed and vanity where happiness is 
 prisoned. Hold by them, if you would save yourself 
 from an old age of reproach, self-reproach such as 
 I have suffered." 
 
 " I believe, sir, that something may be got out 
 of life which is not peddled from a huckster's cart." 
 
 Mr. Waring impatiently waved his hand to dis- 
 pose of the conceit. 
 
 ,"And from what I have been told," Wallace 
 continued, " you have small reason to advise against 
 the dictates of the heart. They say no woman was 
 happier than my mother during the time she was 
 your wife. I see no reason you have to reproach 
 yourself." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. Jl 
 
 Mr. Waring came and stood in front of the chair 
 in which Wallace lounged. There was a certain 
 sternness in his face, and he spoke with the hard- 
 ness of an upright judge passing sentence upon an 
 offender who merited no mercy. 
 
 " Your mother died the victim of poverty. Years 
 of deprivation had undermined her vitality. She 
 had not the strength to bring my child into the 
 world and live. She was a martyr. That is what 
 an improvident marriage means for a woman. Mar- 
 tyrdom ! martyrdom ! Love with empty pockets is 
 the most brutally selfish vice in the world." 
 
 Wallace, surprised by the glimpse into the morbid 
 secret of his father's mind, made no reply, and Mr. 
 Waring left the room more agitated than the occa- 
 sion seemed to justify. Wallace could not see the 
 application of his father's Sadducaic theories to his 
 own case, nor find in them an argument for greater 
 haste to arrange with Miss Boylston. Indeed, by 
 the perverse logic of the natural affections, he came 
 to the conclusion that the argument was a con- 
 vincing support of the sentimental rather than of the 
 rational marriage ; and he strolled out, going instinc- 
 tively in the direction of the Parade, with thoughts 
 of Luya Vanbergen giving form and colour to his 
 fancies. 
 
 Since his introduction to the family by Jacob, 
 Wallace had become a somewhat frequent visitor 
 
72 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 to the Vanbergens, and was now well advanced in 
 the good graces both of the merchant and Mrs. 
 Vanbergen, who thought him the very pattern of 
 a proper young gentleman. There had been, too, 
 an appreciable increase of intimacy between him and 
 Miss Vanbergen ; but in just the degree that he 
 found his sentiments rounding to a serious purpose, 
 worldly-mindedness came in with counsel against a 
 rash yielding to the blind impulses of the heart. 
 
 Journeyings about Europe in the gilded chariot of 
 folly had let some particles of cynical dust sift into 
 the conceptions of the sprightly young man, and it 
 really was nothing against the soundness of his heart 
 nor the manliness of his principles that he wavered 
 for a time between two choices, uncertain whether to 
 obey the voice within, or yield to the influence from 
 without. He was too much a man of the world to 
 be blind to the fact that Miss Boylston was better 
 equipped for social conquest than Miss Vanbergen 
 could pretend to be, and he was not without a sense 
 of the woman's importance in the campaigns of man's 
 ambition. But he was enough a creature of spirit to 
 perceive that the affinity of mind and nature is a 
 tremendous engine to the overcoming of most ob- 
 stacles in the highway to a life success, if by life 
 success he meant something more precious than the 
 approving cackle of the multitude. 
 
 So Mr. Wallace Waring continued in a pleasant 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 73 
 
 indecision midway between the factors of the inter- 
 esting problem, being in no sort of haste to arrive at 
 the final answer, thus giving some of the gossips 
 good reason to suspect that he was but another 
 of the showy breed of triflers. It had not occurred 
 to him that the solution of the problem might be 
 taken out of his hands as a result of this leisureli- 
 ness. He viewed the goings and comings of other 
 young gentlemen with the most complacent spirit 
 imaginable, wearing the frank, indulgent smile of 
 one assured of his superior address, whether in the 
 art of picking a rose or pinking a rival, if one should 
 be audacious enough to set up as his rival. Self- 
 esteem is the essence of mastery. 
 
 Walking toward the Parade, with the balance of 
 his mind tilting under the reflections raised by the 
 talk with his father, Wallace was roused from his 
 reverie by the voice of Miss Boylston, who was pass- 
 ing in her chair, and put her head out at the window 
 to call him, laughingly. 
 
 "La, Mr. Waring, are you so distracted from the 
 world that you cannot recognise your friends ? I 
 vow I think you would have let me pass." 
 
 Wallace made the most obsequious flourish with 
 his hat. 
 
 "Then it would have been for the reason that I 
 was so much occupied with your image as to mistake 
 it for yourself in person." 
 
74 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " If you would have me believe I am so much in 
 your mind, you must have care to keep me better 
 in your view. But have you seen Lieutenant Willett 
 this morning ? " 
 
 " I've been too much engaged at home," Wallace 
 said, lifting her fingers to his lips, the chairmen 
 having set down their burden. 
 
 "Then I may tell you for myself that he is to bid 
 you be one of a party to drive to the East River 
 House, on Tuesday morning, where we are to meet 
 for a fish dinner. I think you have not yet made 
 acquaintance with that resort ? " 
 
 " No ; though I am advised 'tis the one important 
 thing I have to do to complete my initiation into 
 le beau monde. Is the party to be large ? " 
 
 "A half-dozen or eight, at most. I fixed that 
 limit when mamma proposed the plan. A fete 
 champetre is so easily spoiled by a couple too many. 
 Do you know we were greatly interested in conjec- 
 turing whom you would ask ? " 
 
 "You should not have doubted that I would 
 ask Miss Boylston. If I may not have her com- 
 pany " 
 
 " La, Mr. Waring, you must make no rash re- 
 solves, as I see you are about to protest you will 
 have no company but mine ; but Lieutenant Willett 
 took the precaution to allow me no liberty of choice. 
 'Twas his condition of taking the arrangements in 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. ?$ 
 
 hand that I go with him. But if I might name a 
 substitute for myself, you would not, I'm sure, think 
 Miss Lynn too tedious a companion ? " 
 
 " Or Miss Vanbergen ? " Wallace ventured to sug- 
 gest, without betraying the preference. 
 
 Miss Boylston raised her eyebrows and cast down 
 her glance in that fashion of polite equivocation 
 which dissents while seeming to consider a question. 
 
 "Miss Vanbergen is a most amiable young lady, 
 but one sees her in company so seldom that " 
 hesitating and looking up with a smile that was 
 intended to clarify the negative of all possible 
 doubts. 
 
 Wallace did not follow the indication. 
 
 "An excellent reason," he said, giving an argu- 
 mentative twist to the end of his snug moustache, 
 " why one should wish to bring her more into view. 
 It were a pity that company should suffer the loss 
 of a beauty which is only inferior to that of Miss 
 Boylston herself." 
 
 " You wish to set a rival against me ? Or have you 
 a more private reason for your interest in the mer- 
 chant's daughter ? I hear you are become attentive 
 there." 
 
 " Have you heard whether or not I have found 
 encouragement ? " 
 
 "Gossip has not yet gone so far; when it takes 
 that turn I shall think you in some danger." 
 
76 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Are blue eyes so threatening ? " 
 " I believe Mr. Wilbruch's eyes are gray." 
 " In what are we concerned for the colour of Mr. 
 Wilbruch's eyes ? " 
 
 " La, Mr. Waring, I think you are better qualified 
 to answer the question. But if you are of a mind to 
 ask Miss Vanbergen to a seat in your chaise, you 
 would do well to consult with Mr. Wilbruch which 
 road you shall take." 
 
 " I fear I do not quite take you, Miss Boylston." 
 " Oh, if you find me enigmatical, 'tis because Miss 
 Vanbergen's charms have blinded your eyes. But 
 you accept the invitation for Tuesday ? " 
 
 "With all my heart, even though I come alone." 
 "I think it well you should not do that. Odd 
 numbers are most confusing at a fish dinner, 
 Mr. Waring." 
 
 Miss Boylston signalled to the chairmen, permitted 
 Wallace to take another impress of her finger-tips, 
 and, with some parting pleasantries, was borne away, 
 smiling to herself over a fancy that Wallace had not 
 been in the least sensible of the thrust she had made 
 in Mr. Wilbruch's name. 
 
 But Miss Boylston was mistaken. She had 
 touched home so sharply that Wallace was sud- 
 denly aroused to a vexing consciousness of a thou- 
 sand trifles light as air which, hitherto ignored, 
 swarmed now to weigh down his confidence. Miss 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 77 
 
 Boylston, desirous merely to satisfy her own doubts 
 with regard to the trend of Wallace's affections, had 
 succeeded in turning the balance against herself. 
 She had dropped the germ of jealousy into his mind, 
 a very tiny germ to be sure, but, for all that, weighty 
 enough to excite him to an appreciation of the nature 
 of his sentiments for Luya Vanbergen. Affairs were 
 ranged in a new light, and he reviewed them with a 
 clearer perception of their relations. He began to 
 have an uneasy sense of what it means to waver and 
 hesitate simply because one has an alternative. He 
 had debated the advantages of an alliance with the 
 Boylstons until it had seemed to him that policy was 
 quite as wise a leader as inclination, and he thought 
 it might not be a surrender of too much sentiment 
 were he to yield to the exigent wishes of his father. 
 But in these debates the self-esteem which is at once 
 the basis and the danger to character had made him 
 forgetful of the fact that attentions are offered to 
 young ladies as well as to young gentlemen. While 
 hesitating whether to throw his fortune on the side 
 of interest or on the side of love, it had not occurred 
 to him that the alternative rather than the choice 
 would be forged upon him. 
 
 Miss Boylston had given a shock to his self- 
 esteem in quickening his perceptions, and as he 
 continued his walk toward the Vanbergens he 
 thought upon the new situation. The first proba- 
 
78 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 bility recognised was Jacob Wilbruch's love for Luya 
 Vanbergen. 
 
 " There isn't the smallest shadow of doubt about 
 it. I've been an ass not to see it before. The fel- 
 low worships her! And not without reason, I'll be 
 bound. 'Tis a guinea to a sixpence but they are 
 lovers, and the jade may have been laughing at my 
 confounded assurance, donkey that I am ! And 
 if she loves him egad! I'd be a knave to come 
 between ; though why a slip of such exquisite fem- 
 ininity should be in love with such a huge bulk of 
 unpolished boorishness, hang me if I can imagine. 
 She is a most damnably non-committal witch, but, 
 for all that, she has a freedom, too, that is more than 
 friendliness toward him, yet that's not conclusive. 
 The woman who hasn't some touch of the coquette 
 in her is but a marionette for a fool's paradise. Luya 
 is not the girl to wear her heart on her sleeve nor 
 one to cry her love to let. Tis true old Vanbergen 
 has told me he hopes to see Wilbruch at the head of 
 the business one fine day and that smacks devilishly 
 of an understanding. But old Vanbergen's hopes 
 need not be the oracle of his daughter's wishes, for 
 the major part of fathers are at fault in affairs of the 
 kind. Wilbruch is an honest fellow enough, and I 
 have been half-minded to like him, but I think my- 
 self a better card to match with the pretty Luya. 
 There's but one course for it. I'll make haste to 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 79 
 
 come to a knowledge of Miss Vanbergen's mind. If 
 she will not have me Humph ! That was a very 
 pretty twist that Wilbruch gave to Vinton Spencer's 
 sword." 
 
CHAFER VII. 
 
 JACOB WILBRUCH had come to have a serious 
 conference with Mr. Vanbergen. The comfortable 
 merchant was his custom ever of an afternoon 
 seated on his front stoop, leisurely smoking to the 
 digestion of a liberal dinner, well washed down with 
 Madeira. He was at the finish of the first pipeful, 
 and between his plump, large palms was crumbling 
 the leaf for a second filling, when Jacob came into 
 the Parade from Beaver Street. Mr. Vanbergen was 
 looking in the direction, watching two or three ships 
 that were lazing out to sea under a full spread of 
 limp sail, and, as he caught sight of the sturdy young 
 Anglo-Dutchman, a smile of satisfaction rippled over 
 his pudgy lips, and he raised his two hands, with the 
 tobacco between them, to signal a welcome. Though 
 Jacob was all but an inmate of the Vanbergen house, 
 and never failed of his daily call, Mr. Vanbergen 
 always seemed to regard his appearance as a special 
 event meriting a marked reception. It was the over- 
 flow of affection, for Jacob was as an elder son to 
 the merchant, and the genial old fellow had a con- 
 viction, so cherished that he had never confided it 
 
 80 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 8 1 
 
 even to Mrs. Vanbergen, that Jacob would one day 
 reward this abundant affection by making him a 
 grandfather. And each time that Jacob came to 
 the house, Mr. Vanbergen believed his coming to be 
 with a purpose to make the long-deferred confession 
 and demand. But Jacob seemed to have the sustain- 
 ing patience of his ancient homonym, and his days 
 were not yet fulfilled ; for Jacob had set himself a 
 task, the fitting of himself to be worthy of her 
 who might, God willing, wed him. 
 
 " Ha ! Hendrik, t'ere is Jacob," said Mr. Van- 
 bergen, addressing the child playing below the stoop. 
 
 Hendrik rose to his feet and looked toward Jacob, 
 who held a small basket aloft in an alluring way. 
 
 "Oh!" cried the lad, "and he has brought the 
 pigeons, as he promised ! " making off, in an ecstasy 
 to possess the coveted treasure. 
 
 Hendrik had read the story of a hawk that carried 
 a message to the saving of a royal lady's life, and he 
 had yearned with a child's unreason to possess a 
 hawk, so many royal ladies' lives were in need of 
 saving. 
 
 "Pigeons are better," Jacob had said. "I'll get 
 you some pigeons." 
 
 Hendrik made misery for Jacob, by demanding each 
 day thereafter: "When will the pigeons come? I 
 don't believe you are going to get 'em, Jacob ! " And 
 now, at the end of the second week, here were the 
 
82 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 pigeons, and Jacob rose from the level of a ques- 
 tioned integrity to the plane of heroic honour. 
 
 Hendrik rushed off with his prize to Luya, for 
 the pigeons could not be quite all they should be 
 until Luya had gazed on them. 
 
 Jacob, be it known, was a well-poised, sturdy fel- 
 low, in whom the Dutch and English elements of his 
 begetting had blended rather admirably. Above the 
 middle height, he had a muscular squareness to go 
 with the frank, strong face- which only wanted a 
 greater liveliness in the steel-gray eyes, and a little 
 more play in the curves of the firm, full lips, to be as 
 handsome as a manly face has any need to be. He 
 was not by any means the unwieldy bulk of Wallace 
 Waring' s imagining. 
 
 Evert nodded as Jacob came up the steps, and, 
 turning toward the open door at his right, called 
 out: 
 
 "Luya!" 
 
 " I haven't come to see Luya," Jacob protested, 
 regretfully, as he seated himself on the bench beside 
 Mr. Vanbergen. 
 
 "No?" asked Mr. Vanbergen, with an inflection 
 of the most mocking contradiction. 
 
 "No," Jacob responded, "I want to talk to you." 
 
 " Oh, veil, you can talk. I unterstant petter ven 
 Luya is listening, too. T'at's my vay." 
 
 Luya appeared in the doorway, her hands and her 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 83 
 
 neatly rounded arms bare to the elbow, covered with 
 flour, a mischievous patch of which had escaped to 
 her cheek when she had pushed back a loop of the 
 light brown hair from her eyes. 
 
 "Oh, it is you, Jacob," she said, with a smile of 
 familiar greeting, as Jacob rose to make an obeisance. 
 "Well, you see what I am doing. This is baking 
 day, and I can't waste time. Is this all you wanted, 
 papa ? " 
 
 " All I vanted ? Is it not enough ? Jacob is 
 going to talk to me. He likes to haf you listen ven 
 he talks. I haf seen t'at." Mr. Vanbergen said 
 this with a chuckle, making thrusts at the young 
 people with his pipe-stem to emphasise the humour. 
 
 " Papa has seen more than I have, then, Jacob, for 
 I've never found you eloquent. But if you want to 
 talk where I can hear you, you must come into the 
 kitchen. Cooks have no business on front doorsteps. 
 If you come, though, you must have care to keep 
 that fine new coat well out of the way of this," 
 making a pretence of shaking upon him some of the 
 flour from her arms. " 'Tis vastly becoming to you, 
 and quite of a proper pattern. Decidedly, you are 
 improving, Jacob." 
 
 She returned into the house, laughingly, without 
 waiting to hear if he had anything to say in reply, 
 very well divining what he thought of the picture 
 she made standing in the doorway. Though a 
 
84 /AT OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 taciturn chap in the main, Jacob's eyes knew how 
 to speak one language very well ; and he never 
 looked upon the slender grace of Luya's deftly 
 fashioned figure, or into the clear oval face set in 
 its halo of rippling hair, or felt the pretty mockery 
 of her smiling lips and eyes, without turning that 
 language into a thanksgiving prayer that compli- 
 mented Heaven on its handiwork. Strict enough 
 Lutheran in other respects, Jacob was pagan in his 
 idolatry of Evert Vanbergen's daughter. 
 
 " Pretty goot, he, Jacob ? " Evert asked, with one 
 of his most expressive chuckles, and pointing over 
 his shoulder into the house with his pipe. 
 
 Jacob again seated himself on the bench, nodding 
 a response to Evert. 
 
 " She's going to make a fine vifes for some mans 
 one of t'em tays, he ? " 
 
 " Yes," Jacob assented, with conviction. 
 
 "Ja, ja. Luya can cook almost as veil as her 
 modder, and use her neetle petter, and play on t'e 
 spinet like a teacher, and dance like a fairies. But 
 petter t'an t'at, Jacob, Luya haf a het for trate as 
 goot as any mans put mine, Jacob." 
 
 It was one of Evert 's great pleasures to consult 
 and advise with Luya in the affairs of the counting- 
 house, and he had a jovial habit of boasting, after 
 each fortunate enterprise or shrewdly managed trans- 
 action, that the success came of his obedience to 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 85 
 
 his daughter's instructions. " I to vat she tell me, 
 t'at's all," and the chuckle would ripple away from 
 the surface lips to lose itself echoingly in some 
 recess of the inner man. 
 
 Jacob did not respond for some moments to the 
 eulogy of Luya's domestic and mental virtues, but 
 sat back on the bench, one arm over the top, as if 
 he had no other object in coming to the house than 
 to take his ease on the stoop. Evert smoked on in 
 silence, peering at Jacob through half-closed eyes, 
 wondering what lay behind the more than common 
 seriousness of Jacob's manner. 
 
 Presently, Luya was heard singing in the house 
 the fragment of a ballad having to do with a noble 
 lord and a lowly maid who had "twined their two 
 loves together" without any subsequent regrets. 
 If there was not much art in the ballad, there was 
 a compensating musical sweetness in the voice, and 
 Jacob cared to say nothing while he could have the 
 tranquil bliss of listening to that song. When 
 Luya sang, he seemed to go back to a summer day 
 of his boyhood when he had gone, a truant, to the 
 big fresh-water pond beyond the Boston High Road. 
 He had stretched himself under a tree with his 
 fishing-rod held between his feet, and was building 
 castles in the drifting hills of white and purple 
 which he saw through the tree-branches above him, 
 when a vagrant oriole perched in the tree-top, and 
 
86 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 fell to piping out the marvellous notes of its love 
 song. The tropic softness of the bird's voice and 
 the shadowed gold of its plumes, so like the locks 
 of Luya's hair in those young days, got so tangled 
 in the scheme of his dream that when the bird, 
 obeying the call of its mate, flew suddenly away, 
 Jacob felt a great pain in his heart. He thought 
 what it would mean to him if Luya should take wing 
 at another's call, and he made haste back to the 
 town and cried out to the child, who was a 
 playmate then, " Come, sing to me, Luya." And 
 always when Luya sang in these later days, he 
 thought of that early time, and smiled at that early 
 fear. 
 
 "Veil, Jacob, vat you haf to tell me?" Mr. 
 Vanbergen asked, after the long pause. 
 
 The question came so abruptly upon his fancies 
 that Jacob answered, unguardedly : 
 
 " I love Luya." 
 
 The faintest twinkle of satisfaction in Mr. Van- 
 bergen's eyes was the only indication of the fact 
 that the father had waited long in patient expecta- 
 tion of this avowal. 
 
 " Ja, I know t'at, Jacob." 
 
 " I want her for my wife." 
 
 " Ja, I know fat, too, Jacob." 
 
 Some moments of silence passed, during which 
 Evert complacently smoked, and Jacob made no 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 8/ 
 
 other movement than to bring his hand from the 
 back of the bench to rest on his knee. 
 
 " Then it is agreed ? " Jacob asked, at last. 
 
 Evert did not immediately answer. He sent up 
 a few circles of smoke, and regarded them medita- 
 tively as they coiled and twisted into nothing. 
 
 " Haf you tolt Luya ? " 
 
 " No ; I am not ready to tell her yet." 
 
 Evert's eyebrows lifted in the least perceptible 
 degree of a faint, disapproving surprise. In his 
 opinion, the first auditory of love should be the 
 sweetheart's ear. 
 
 " You hafn't hat some talks vit her ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You haf neffer, all t'e times, tolt her t'at you lofe 
 her?" 
 
 "No; there hasn't been any need to tell her. 
 She knows it without the telling." 
 
 " Oh, ja, t'at is so. Vomens knows t'em t'ings 
 petter as ve can tell t'em. But, on t'e o'ter site, 
 Jacob, t'e mens neffer know vat vomens t'inks. Haf 
 Luya tolt you t'at she lofes you, he, Jacob ? " 
 
 " Not yet. Time enough for that when everything 
 is ready." 
 
 Evert shook his head a little dubiously. He had 
 no doubt that the state of Luya's affections was at 
 present entirely favourable to Jacob's assumption, 
 but he had a troublesome consciousness that the 
 
88 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 young female mind is something like market values, 
 variable to circumstances and needing to be dealt 
 with opportunely. 
 
 " You know, Jacob, t'at girls ton't wait all t'e time. 
 T'ere is ot'er young mens t'at come t'is way more as 
 t'ey used to. Nice young mens, Jacob, t'at gif t'em- 
 selves airs, Jacob, and vears sworts py t'eir sites, and 
 make pretty speeches. Luya is only a girls, Jacob ! 
 You can't plame girls if t'ey like pirts vit fine feat'ers, 
 Jacob." 
 
 "No, I can't blame them, Mr. Vanbergen, and 
 that is the reason I am not ready to speak to 
 Luya." 
 
 " I ton't unterstant you, Jacob." 
 
 "I mean that Luya ought to have the best that 
 can be offered to her." Some little pride of purpose 
 was in the tone. 
 
 "Ja," giving a very emphatic side movement to 
 his head, " I t'ink so myself." 
 
 " I am not as fit for Luya as some of these young 
 English gentlemen " 
 
 "Vat you say, Jacob?" Evert exclaimed, taking 
 his pipe from his mouth, the better to point his 
 astonishment. 
 
 " I am not as fine as they are ; I am not educated 
 as well ; I'm going to educate myself better." 
 
 "Etucate yourself petter! Vy, Jacob, you haf 
 more education now t'an you neet in t'e pusiness ! 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 89 
 
 Bonder ! A merchant ton't neet more etucation as 
 you haf, Jacob ! " 
 
 " But I'm not going to be a merchant. I'm going 
 out of the business. I'm going to the college in 
 Massachusetts for a year. And then I'm going to 
 make a surgeon of myself." 
 
 Evert had thrown back his head, letting the pipe 
 fall from his lips to the floor, with the first dum- 
 founding declaration of the deliberate Jacob, and he 
 stared in pained incredulity at the resolute young 
 man whose guardian he had been for fifteen years, 
 and whom he had thought he knew as thoroughly as 
 he knew himself. He gasped : 
 
 " Not going to pe a merchant, Jacob ! " 
 
 " No ; I want to be something better." 
 
 "Fetter!" 
 
 If Jacob had been less intent on the idea that had 
 formed in his own mind during a fortnight of laboured 
 thought, he would have been penitently touched by 
 the pitiful way in which Vanbergen uttered this 
 stifled cry of reproach. The old merchant was 
 wounded to the heart by the unconscious thrust 
 of the man for whom he entertained a proud and 
 paternal affection. He bent down to pick up the 
 fragments of his pipe and put them in a heap on 
 the bench. He absently pushed his finger into the 
 bowl and tapped with it on the oak of the seat, the 
 beats being timed with those in his breast, perhaps. 
 
QO IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 He was oppressed and uncertain. He had lost his 
 bearings. He looked toward the ships, one of which 
 had disappeared beyond the line of the Fort, and the 
 sun was on the weather-tempered gray of the sails 
 like sheets of pliant gold, proper dressing for those 
 stately argosies that should come anon from the 
 rich Indies with new testimony to the dignity of 
 trade. Gradually, as he looked, his stunned facul- 
 ties reasserted themselves. Something better than 
 being a merchant ! Ah ! youth is not the season of 
 wisdom, and sensible age must make allowance for 
 the rash impulses of undisciplined spirit. Old hearts 
 may suffer the pangs of an ingratitude that does not 
 understand itself, but time avenges. The visionary 
 legend of "Vanbergen and Wilbruch" over the low 
 door of the counting-house in Dock Street was broken 
 in pieces like the slim clay pipe, but the sea was 
 there and the vessels. There had been a dream 
 once before of " Vanbergen and Son," and the first- 
 born had died while the dream was making. Dreams 
 give way to other dreams, but trade keeps on. As 
 well, then, to make the best of the thing that is, 
 forgetting the hope that was. Having thought this 
 out by a slow process of reasoning, Evert flung the 
 bowl of the pipe on to the lawn and rose to his feet, 
 a smile, which he wished to make cheerful but which 
 was only forgivingly compassionate, shimmering 
 about his lios. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 9! 
 
 "Veil, Jacob, your money is in my business. It 
 has been t'ere a goot many years, and I haf neffer 
 let it get mixed up vit o'ter tings, I arrangt vit 
 Mr. Varing, it has tone pretty veil in t'e pusiness, 
 Jacob." 
 
 "And there I mean to leave it, Mr. Vanbergen." 
 
 " No, Jacob. You haf peen of age t'ese sefen 
 years, but I haf not troupled to make you your own 
 masters, because I peen t'inking of you all t'em times 
 as my partners ven I close up vit Mr. Varing. But 
 if you go out of t'e pusiness, 'tis anot'er t'ing. Ven 
 your fat'er tie, he say, 'Evert, I leafe you fifteen 
 huntert pounts for my poy Jacob. Use it for him. 
 Ven he is a mans, gif him vat is left.' Veil, Jacob, 
 I haf tone my best " 
 
 "You have been my father," Jacob interrupted, 
 earnestly, at the same time rising to put his large 
 hand in a rough caress upon Vanbergen's shoulder. 
 
 "T'ank you, Jacob. Veil, t'ose fifteen huntert 
 pounts vas just fife per cent, of my capitals. I put 
 t'em in te pusiness. Effery year I set fife per cent. 
 of t'e profits to your cretit. At first, it vas not much, 
 and you cost me more as I earned," giving Jacob a 
 nudge with his elbow, to lend a jocular turn to the 
 practical exactness of the statement, " put, t'at came 
 out all right in t'e ent. To-morrow, Jacob, ve vill go 
 ofer t'e pooks toget'er, and make t'e settlement." 
 
 "I don't want a settlement. I wish to leave 
 
92 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 matters as they are. I want you to use my money 
 forme " 
 
 " Ve vill talk of t'at after t'e settlement, for you 
 see, Jacob," and Vanbergen was not as merry as his 
 manner would have made Jacob believe, " as you are 
 going out of t'e pusiness, as ve are not going to pe 
 partners some more, ve must close t'e pusiness rela- 
 tions as pusiness mens vould to. I vill gif you a 
 cheque for your share, and you can put it in Mr. 
 Boylston's pank, or you can puy lant mit it, unless 
 you t'ink t'e farm your fat'er left is lant enough. 
 Put I belief in lant, Jacob." 
 
 Evert confessed this belief impressively, and, re- 
 ducing his voice to a confidential murmur, held 
 Jacob by the lapel of his coat as he added, " Lant 
 is too cheap for t'e way New York is growing. 
 Tvill pay a goot interest on t'e investment in t'e 
 next ten years. T'ink apout it." 
 
 He drew from his generous fob the great dialed 
 Dutch watch, which was a precious heritage from 
 Grandfather Claes, and looked at the time. 
 
 "Two o'clock lacking ten minutes. T'ere's some 
 meetings at t'e Exchange. I must go. You vill 
 see Luya?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And get her promise ? " 
 
 "No, I don't want any promise until I can be 
 more worthy of it." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 93 
 
 " You make mistakes, Jacob. Girls ton't fint out 
 t'eir own mints sometimes unless somepoty tells 
 t'em." 
 
 " Luya knows her mind." 
 
 "Ja, I t'ink so. Put vhile you are getting reaty 
 to pe vorty of her, pe careful t'at somepoty else ton't 
 come along who von't pe so particular." The diffi- 
 culty he had with the last word awakened Mr. Van- 
 bergen's sense of the comical. He gave Jacob a 
 good-natured thrust in the side with his chubby 
 thumb as they entered the house together. 
 
 Had Jacob looked over his shoulder, he would 
 have seen Wallace Waring, just parted from Miss 
 Boylston and with his mind made up to a talk with 
 Miss Vanbergen, crossing the Parade to the house. 
 But that would hardly have made any difference in 
 his opinion of Mr. Vanbergen's sage caution. He 
 had no fear of losing Luya. His love for her was 
 not a sentiment to admit of wavering, nor was it a 
 passion to sway and toss his soul into disorder; it 
 was as the motive and reason of his being, as inde- 
 structible, as unchangeable, and as even as the essen- 
 tial life within him ; and it seemed to him that the 
 delicate creature he reverenced in this complete 
 spirit could not be other than his, being so much 
 an element of himself. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THOUGH the merchant class was coming indeed, 
 had come into a certain social dignity, owing to 
 the authority of its numbers, and the increasing influ- 
 ence of its wealth, there was still a well-defined line 
 of separation between it and the divinely ordered 
 world which did not live by trade. It is necessary 
 to confess, therefore, that Miss Luya Vanbergen had 
 never been identified with the brilliant circle which 
 held its grand receptions at the Fort, or gave its 
 splendid balls at the Black Horse Tavern. But 
 there was one circumstance in her favour that miti- 
 gated in an appreciated degree the natural inferiority 
 of her social rank and secured her some of the 
 advantages of the gay life about her. Her mother 
 was an English woman of good family, a very poor 
 family, to be sure, but which, once upon a time, had 
 had a few fat acres and a bellicose crest. Mrs. 
 Vanbergen's father had come to New York with his 
 bride, to try, in a hazard with growing fortunes, to 
 better his lot, and had put his talents to the service 
 of the community by teaching the young ideas how 
 to shoot at wisdom. What he might have done for 
 
 94 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 95 
 
 his daughter, had he chosen to live until she had 
 come to the marriageable age, can only be a matter 
 of vain imagining. The fact is that he died when 
 she was comparatively young, and the widow, to 
 keep the wolf from the door, turned the modest 
 home into a boarding-house. Former friends con- 
 tinued to be as kind and indulgent as the conditions 
 permitted them to be, but the most generous-minded 
 person in the world must recognise how great a dif- 
 ference there is between the reduced gentility that 
 lives by the charge of a school, and the ditto which 
 subsists by the economies of a boarding-house. So 
 it came about, in the rational sequence of events, 
 that Evert Vanbergen, the sleek, good-natured young 
 merchant, rather than one of the dashing blades of 
 the gentry, should marry the widow's comely and 
 domestic daughter. But the irrefutable fact that 
 Miss Luya Vanbergen was the granddaughter of a 
 scholarly gentleman, and the great-grandniece of 
 a certain Sir Something-or-other, who had run his 
 sword through a good many of his country's ene- 
 mies, softened, in a measure, the reproach that neces- 
 sarily attached to her as the daughter of a man in 
 trade, and a Dutchman in trade, at that. 
 
 It was the irritating consciousness that her beauty, 
 her accomplishments, her agreeable vivacity of spirit, 
 and her respectable qualities of r mind (for Miss Van- 
 bergen had more than once made the inventory of 
 
g6 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 her possessions) could not entirely beat down a fan- 
 tastic social prejudice that induced the young lady to 
 decline more than one invitation she would otherwise 
 have accepted most joyfully. Last January she had 
 returned a negative answer to Mr. Allen Bradford's 
 deferential note asking her company to the great 
 ball given in honour of the prince's birthday, and 
 had wept through the night in bitter repentance of 
 her foolish pride. The chief determining cause 
 of her self-sacrificing obstinacy was the humiliating 
 memory of the smile with which Miss Sophie Boyls- 
 ton had said, " La, I think it is Miss Vanbergen ! " 
 when they met in the minuet at one of the fort- 
 nightly assemblies of the elite, at Mr. Todd's tavern. 
 Miss Vanbergen would have been extremely rejoiced 
 to call Miss Boylston out, if the code had permitted 
 it, and she had not been at all satisfied merely to 
 reply with an amiable commonplace about the days 
 when they were intimate as schoolgirls. She carried 
 her head as well, and could say a malicious thing as 
 sweetly, as Miss Boylston herself ; and, instructed by 
 this first unexpected humiliation, she never doubted 
 that she came from their occasional after-encounters 
 with her full share of personal success, but her heart 
 was always in rebellion against the polite condescen- 
 sion which seemed to her an insolence, the less en- 
 durable for the efforts the young gentlemen made to 
 discountenance it. For this reason, Miss Vanbergen 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 97 
 
 was less in society than she might have been, for 
 there were young gentlemen who thought her beauty 
 and grace justified them in forgetting her father's 
 hopeless immersion in trade, and the infrequence of 
 her appearance in the fashionable gatherings was 
 due to a feeling akin to that which kept Achilles in 
 his tent, though there was nothing of sulkiness 
 in her candid and sunny temper. 
 
 When, therefore, Wallace Waring invited her to 
 go with him to the fish dinner, and had named Miss 
 Boylston in connection with it, Miss Vanbergen pro- 
 ceeded to point out, with the prettiest possible air of 
 despair, that, of all days in the coming week, Tuesday 
 was the one most heavily freighted with cares which 
 she only could discharge. 
 
 "I must say, Luya, I know of nothing so very 
 pressing," Mrs. Vanbergen interposed, in gentle re- 
 monstrance. " I am sure Marta and I can do all 
 that " 
 
 "My dear mamma," Luya interrupted, making a 
 gesture of repressive authority, "you really should 
 not try to make it appear that my duties may easily 
 be given over to some one else. I assure you, Mr. 
 Waring, I am a much more important member of 
 the household than mamma would like to have you 
 imagine. But I was not thinking altogether of 
 house cares, mamma. There are dozens of things 
 I have to do, besides." 
 
98 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "Then take me into your service," Wallace pro- 
 posed. " You will find me an energetic assistant, I 
 dare engage ; and I think between us we can make 
 several of the dozens get out of the way in time to 
 allow of our getting a morsel of fish before 'tis cold." 
 
 "Bless me, Mr. Waring, do you indeed flatter 
 yourself that you have learned to be useful ? " 
 
 " Put me to the experiment. I think the willing- 
 ness to oblige will instruct me how." 
 
 "That does not by any means follow. For ex- 
 ample, I might wish to have you carry parcels." She 
 sent a roving glance from top to toe of his fastidi- 
 ously fashionable dress, perhaps not omitting to 
 observe that the figure so elegantly outlined had 
 nothing feminine in its trim proportions. Miss 
 Vanbergen seemed to be much amused by the idea of 
 putting this young gentleman to such plebeian uses. 
 
 Mrs. Vanbergen, whose sense of humour did not 
 extend to a trifling with social proprieties, hastened 
 to say, quite seriously : 
 
 "But Luya could never think of anything so 
 ridiculous, Mr. Waring." 
 
 " But I should not think anything ridiculous that 
 Miss Vanbergen might propose," Wallace declared, 
 with an apologetic bow to Mrs. Vanbergen, "and I 
 will carry parcels for you, Miss Vanbergen, with as 
 much satisfaction as I would hand you into a chaise, 
 if it be your pleasure." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 99 
 
 " La, Mr. Waring, I've half a mind to try you. 
 'Twould give your friends some ground to laugh at 
 you." 
 
 "That would be at their peril, without detracting 
 from my pleasure in the service." 
 
 " Nothing can make me believe you would do it." 
 
 "Try me." 
 
 "Don't tempt her, Mr. Waring," Mrs. Vanbergen 
 said, rising and going toward the door ; "she is wilful 
 enough to impose upon your good nature. I think, 
 Luya, you can do no better than accept Mr. Waring's 
 invitation." She excused herself, on the ground that 
 she heard Hendrik calling, and went out of the 
 room. 
 
 Mr. Waring, who had risen to bow Mrs. Vanbergen 
 out, turned promptly to Luya the moment they were 
 alone, and addressed her with much earnestness. 
 
 " I have a reason for wanting you to go with me 
 on Tuesday." 
 
 " And I have a reason several reasons for declin- 
 ing to go," she replied, with a mocking imitation of 
 his tone. 
 
 " Is it the same reason you have had for declining 
 other of my invitations ? " 
 
 " I don't understand you," she said, struck by an 
 indefinable something in his manner. " Is it usual 
 to demand reasons of a young lady why she does or 
 does not do thus and so ? " 
 
TOO IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Yes, if the reason is supposed to be of a particular 
 sort." 
 
 He looked rather impudently questioning, this 
 young man who had suddenly become so mighty 
 serious without any cause of which she was aware. 
 " Upon my word, Mr. Waring, if you glare at me 
 in that tragic fashion, I shall not be able to keep my 
 gravity ! Is it a thing of such fatal importance that I 
 have no appetite for fish ? " 
 
 " I am not jesting, Miss Vanbergen. I want to 
 know the real reason why you refuse me. Is it 
 because some one else has a better right to your 
 company ? " 
 
 " La, Mr. Waring, whatever are you thinking of ? 
 Who would have thought a trifle of this kind could 
 drive a gentleman out of his senses ! In pity of your- 
 self, Mr. Waring, go at once to seek a cure of some 
 young lady who knows better than I how to value a 
 favour." 
 
 " I will, if you will answer me a question." 
 "Then be quick with the question, for I see the 
 peril grows." 
 
 "Mr. Wilbruch has just left you." 
 " Yes, yes ; you saw him go, did you not ? " 
 " But not until after he had talked alone with you." 
 "That was most extraordinary, indeed, Mr. War- 
 ing ! I marvel myself that he could go after a talk 
 alone with me." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. IOI 
 
 "You are pleased to treat me lightly, Miss Van- 
 bergen." 
 
 " On the contrary, I should be glad to take you 
 seriously, if you would give me leave to understand 
 you." 
 
 " Mr. Wilbruch is going away." 
 
 "La, Mr. Waring, you seem much occupied to 
 tell me things I know quite well enough." 
 
 " Does Mr. Wilbruch take a promise with him ? " 
 
 " Ah ! now you have asked your question ; but 
 it seems to me that you have addressed it to the 
 wrong person. You should put that question to 
 Mr. Wilbruch himself." 
 
 " You can answer it as well." 
 
 " No, I am not so gifted I can't read minds 
 can you ? " 
 
 " Do you mean do you tell me " 
 
 Wallace abandoned his dignity, and, by way of 
 completing his sentence, impetuously advanced to 
 seize upon Luya's hand, to the apparent alarm of 
 that young lady, who sprang away from him with 
 the cry : 
 
 " Good heaven ! Mr. Waring, will you carry your 
 resentment into violence ? " 
 
 But Wallace pursued the retreat and succeeded 
 in imprisoning her, notwithstanding some little inco- 
 herencies of protest. 
 
 " Don't pretend not to understand," he said. " I 
 
IO2 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 love you ! Don't deny that you have known it from 
 the first day I met you. I love you. Tell me that 
 I have the right to love you, confess that you love 
 me ! Luya ! Answer me. Be my wife v Give me 
 your promise." 
 
 She held her face away from him, trying to 
 release herself, begging to be let go, each feeble 
 effort and each tremulous plea being an unconscious 
 admission of the sentiment her lips disclaimed. 
 
 "Answer me, then. I shall not let you go until 
 you have answered me." 
 
 " I have answered you," she said, her voice falter- 
 ing over the words, as if to keep back a sob. " I have 
 answered you, and you will not understand. It is 
 ungenerous of you to hold me against my will." 
 
 " It is because I know your heart is not in your 
 words, it is because I know that you love me. Say 
 it, say it ! " 
 
 " You are cruel," she said, the tears coming now, 
 and her will no longer resisting. 
 
 He drew her head to his breast and kissed her 
 lips, murmuring those impenitent self-reproaches with 
 which lovers justify the tyrannies they delight in. 
 
 She checked her tears after a time, and he half 
 released her, still caressing her with words and lin- 
 gering touches, and wondering at the strangeness 
 of her mood which was at once so yielding and so 
 unresponsive. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. IC>3 
 
 " I never intended that this should happen," she 
 said, still in the low tone but with some return of 
 composure, even a faint smile playing at her lips. 
 " Indeed, I hardly thought you cared to have it 
 happen. I am sorry that you have told me. I 
 should not have let you, if you had not taken me by 
 surprise." 
 
 " You would have me think that you do not care 
 for me ? " he asked, playfully, and with the satisfied 
 air of one who knows his advantage. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I care for you," she answered ; " there 
 is no need to deny that I love you, for I do love 
 you " 
 
 "Then why are you sorry that I have told you 
 of my love ? " 
 
 " Because I cannot be your wife." 
 
 He stepped back, regarding her to see if this were 
 earnest or but a revival of her mischievous spirit. 
 The moist blue eyes were sadly serious. 
 
 " Why can't you be my wife ? " 
 
 " For the reason that your father would never 
 consent to your marrying me." 
 
 Good-humoured assurance came back to Wallace 
 with a rush of merry laughter. 
 
 " My father would not consent ! " he cried, reach- 
 ing out to take hold upon her two shoulders and 
 square her round, as one does a child when it needs 
 a little chaffing to clear away its pouts. " If you 
 
IO4 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 have no better reason than that, Miss Vanbergen, 
 for refusing to let me take tribute from your lips, 
 then I make bold to claim my rights. My father's 
 consent ! If I were not the most reverent son in 
 the world I should tell you that my will is my father's 
 pleasure. Should I cry for the moon, he would 
 equip an expedition to fetch it for me, and I am 
 not unreasonable in my demands only because he is 
 so obliging in anticipating my wishes. Ah, Luya, 
 Luya, your consent shall be my father's compulsion. 
 Say the word, say yes, and I'll be impudent enough 
 to mistake the dinner up the river for our betrothal 
 feast, and every one at table shall drink bumpers to 
 our union. My Luya ! my wife that is to be ! Come ; 
 we'll go to your mother as the first to receive our 
 confidence." Wallace took her hand and made a 
 movement toward the door. 
 
 But Luya's often debated misgivings returned 
 upon her, more besettingly and more dismayingly 
 than ever, now that she had dared to fling 
 down the challenge to her fate. She held Wallace 
 back. 
 
 " Not yet," she urged, with so much earnestness 
 that he listened to her objections without so much 
 as smiling at them. She had seen far into the 
 character of Mr. Stephen Waring in the weekly 
 visits he had made to her father's house during the 
 years of the silent partnership. She knew the pride 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 1 05 
 
 and the prejudice by which his straightforward 
 nature was turned askew. She had heard something 
 of the ambitious plans he cherished in his 'son's 
 behalf ; and she knew, too, that Mr. Stephen Waring 
 so detested "trade" even though it was the 
 means by which his future was building that, in 
 all the years of his association with her father, 
 the public had never once been taken into the 
 secret of the partnership. His prejudices were all 
 the more stubborn for their unreasonableness, and 
 Luya felt a certainty that Mr. Stephen Waring would 
 never consent to a marriage between his son and 
 the daughter of the "partner" he had so long 
 socially condemned. 
 
 " But what if he should not consent ! " Wallace 
 exclaimed, at the end of her declaration of fears. 
 " That would be no obstacle to our marriage." 
 
 "The greatest," replied Luya. "I would die an 
 old maid rather than marry to the estrangement of a 
 son and his father." 
 
 " Estrangement ! My dear Luya, when you know 
 my father better you will vow you never entertained 
 your present opinion of him." 
 
 " Then my doubts may be easily dispelled. But, 
 
 until you have gained your father's consent, no one, 
 
 you promise ? no one must know that you and 
 
 I have well, said anything to each other. You 
 
 promise ? " 
 
IO6 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Yes, I promise." 
 
 "And you will keep the promise faithfully with- 
 out any exception ? " 
 
 " Faithfully, and without any exception, but that 
 will hardly be a test of my reticence, for I won't have 
 to keep silence long." 
 
 That evening, instead of going for his usual play 
 at the tavern, the various tavern parlours being the 
 club-rooms, as well as the gaming centres of the time, 
 Wallace remained at home for the double object of 
 transmuting some teeming thoughts into a halting 
 sort of verse, and of having a particular talk with his 
 father. After the verses had been conducted reso- 
 lutely to a finish, in spite of the reluctance of " win- 
 ning " to rhyme with " shining," Wallace went down 
 into the library, where Mr. Waring sat absorbed in 
 the news of the papers, only two months old, arrived 
 in the afternoon from London. 
 
 Made cautious, perhaps, by Luya's apprehensions, 
 Wallace approached his subject warily, in a round- 
 about talk on a multitude of things, and ended by 
 stating an entirely supposititious case. 
 
 " Misalliances, my dear Wallace," Mr. Waring be- 
 gan, oracularly, taking his spectacles from his eyes, 
 and carefully polishing the crystals with his silk 
 handkerchief, " are styled mauvaiscs alliances by our 
 French instructors, and bad matches they are. In 
 the case you put, the man must be either a fool or 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. ID? 
 
 a knave, for no honest man in his right senses 
 would ever contract a marriage for which his rela- 
 tives would have to blush or make excuses. I might 
 argue the matter at length if I thought you were in 
 need of being convinced. I do you the credit to 
 assume that your own opinions and mine are at 
 one on the subject of what a gentleman owes to 
 himself." 
 
 " But suppose, merely for the sake of the argu- 
 ment," Wallace ventured, settling himself a little 
 more easily in his chair to prepare for the final 
 assault, "suppose our minds were not wholly in 
 accord ? To put the matter in a nutshell, sup- 
 pose I were myself in a similar situation to that 
 I have suggested and that I should come to 
 you " 
 
 " My dear Wallace, some things are too extravagant 
 to be reasonably supposed. But, were you in that 
 case, there would be no argument between us. I 
 should answer, without argument, in the fewest words 
 possible. I should say, < I will never give my consent 
 to such an arrangement. If you marry in opposition 
 to my wishes, I shall from that moment cease to have 
 a son.' But, my dear Wallace, I do not fear that 
 the love I have for you will ever be put to so severe 
 and unnatural a trial. We need not trouble our- 
 selves with the follies of others. By the way, here 
 is some interesting matter about young Pitt's last 
 
IO8 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 speech which you may care to read. I find this lot 
 of papers uncommonly newsy." 
 
 Wallace added another half-dozen lines to his 
 verses before he went to bed. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Miss VANBERGEN had some flutterings of virginal 
 pride, caused by the fear that she had much too 
 readily let her heart fall into the possession of a 
 man whose father was likely to set too light a value 
 on it. She reproached herself with feebleness in 
 having surrendered at the very first assault. If it 
 were to do over again, she felt sure that she should 
 say to Mr. Wallace Waring : 
 
 "I am very sorry, but this is a subject I cannot 
 discuss with you until your father has asked my 
 father to give you leave to sound my mind. I have 
 thought the matter over most carefully, and I am 
 resolved upon this point." 
 
 Yet, in the very midst of her self-censuring, she 
 breathed a sigh of thankfulness that the thing was 
 not to do over again ; and when, in the course of the 
 next day, a wide-grinning negro servant came with 
 the heavily sealed verses which Wallace had erected 
 to her worship, she had a half-hour of tumultuous 
 folly, and thought nothing could content her soul but 
 the singing of hosannas from the housetop. But, 
 coming after numerous readings to a less ecstatic 
 
 109 
 
HO IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 appreciation of the final lines, she began to have 
 doubts if the assured tone of the initial verses was 
 warranted by facts. The more critically she read 
 them, the more provokingly certain she became that 
 the paternal Waring was in no sense a party to this 
 rhymed declaration of eternal devotion. Therefore, 
 in replying to the author in one of those blissfully 
 inconsequent billets which are the delicate arabesques 
 of love, she was at pains to add an intelligible post- 
 script excusing herself from the engagement to go 
 to the day-after-to-morrow fish dinner. 
 
 Wallace, made uneasily inquisitive by this post- 
 script, came promptly to demand an oral explanation 
 of it, but was unable to secure the necessary two 
 minutes of privacy with Miss Vanbergen. Faring no 
 better in two subsequent visits, and suspecting that 
 the coquettish malice of the young lady, more than 
 the intrusive stupidity of the family, was responsible 
 for his discomfiture, Wallace had recourse to the 
 pen as the speediest means to a settlement of the 
 question. 
 
 " I allow," he wrote, after a preface enough com- 
 plimentary to meet the exactions of the most ardent 
 affection, "I allow that a gentleman is bound to 
 submit to the vexatious conduct of a lady without 
 betraying chagrin, and I should take a buffet from 
 any other of your sex with the easiest good humour 
 in the world. But I protest that lovers do not fall 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. Ill 
 
 under that law ; for, if a lover were to hold by all the 
 rules laid down for the guidance of a gentleman, he 
 could never come to the state of matrimony, eti- 
 quette being the very antidote of love. I take it, 
 then, to be quite within my rights to warn you that 
 I am not of a temper to submit with patience to the 
 impositions of your caprice. To be held away from 
 you after this fashion irritates me to the degree that 
 I shall presently hate the household that I already 
 find obtrusive. Now, lest you may think I jest, I 
 promise you that I shall come in the morning to take 
 you in my chaise, and if you refuse to give me the 
 joy of having your company to a drive, I swear, by 
 my sword, I shall make your refusal the ground to a 
 quarrel with either Mr. Wilbruch or your father, or 
 both, as the circumstances may dictate. I imagine 
 you will think it proper to laugh at this purpose and 
 prepare yourself with some pretty defiance to com- 
 plete my exasperation. But if there be any lover's 
 oath, the breaking of which may take rank as perjury, 
 I lay the peril of that oath upon my soul, if I do not, 
 in some determined way, avenge myself of your 
 wilfulness. 
 
 " If, however, my threat to do violence to those 
 who shall offend me cannot penetrate your heart 
 with the grace of a saving fear, may I assume that 
 you have compassion enough to wish to prevent my 
 ruin ? If you have so much good-will for me, and 
 
112 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 would know in what way it can avert something 
 worse than a fatality, consent to drive with me in 
 the morning, and I will tell you what are my plans 
 for our future happiness. Though I turn thus easily 
 from threatening to pleading, 'tis but to give you an 
 alternative, for I prefer the violent course. Consider 
 the matter. If, to-morrow morning, you play the imp 
 with me, as you have in these last two days, I shall 
 kiss you in the family presence to my heart's content, 
 and then draw upon any one that shall offer to molest 
 me as I bear you by force of arms to my chaise." 
 
 Whether it was the minatory letter, or some words 
 murmured into her ear as she stood watching Hen- 
 drik fasten the pigeons into the new cote, that decided 
 Miss Vanbergen, certain it is that she went without 
 compulsion to take her place in the chaise, and 
 showed a beaming countenance to the world as 
 they drove smartly up the Broadway. 
 
 "So you haven't spoken to your father?" Miss 
 Vanbergen asked, rather abruptly, after a time. 
 
 " Not yet," Wallace answered, giving a touch to 
 the off horse. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 "I've sounded him, though." 
 
 " And what did he say ? " 
 
 " Egad ! Not much to the purpose." 
 
 The glimmer of hope went out of her eyes, and a 
 tinge of scarlet came into her cheeks. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 113 
 
 "He he gave you to understand " 
 
 " That I might go to the devil, if I marry without 
 his consent." 
 
 "Well, Wallace, that means " 
 
 " It means, sweetheart, that we are going to enter 
 on a jolly campaign to bring my father's common 
 sense to a recognition of the duty he owes to me. 
 Egad ! Luya, we are going to have him as much in 
 love with you as I am myself." 
 
 " He has other plans for you ? " 
 
 " Something of the sort." 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 " Don't you know ? " 
 
 "Miss Boylston?" 
 
 " I thought you could hit the mark first fire." 
 
 "Well, doubtless your father knows what is best 
 for you. Miss Boylston is a most proper choice." 
 
 " Shall I take her, then ? " 
 
 " If you want her. I dare say she would not 
 object." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 " I think I could manage to do without you." 
 
 " That is the deuce of it ; I'm afraid you could. 
 But I could not do without you. And do you know 
 what I've resolved to do ? Compromise you at the 
 dinner to-day in a way to make it impossible you 
 shall pretend to any independence of me." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
114 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " I haven't thought that out." 
 
 "Then don't think it out, for I should repudiate 
 you on the spot." 
 
 " By George ! I believe you would. Seriously, 
 though, do you think. a man is bound to regulate his 
 life by the whims of his father ? " 
 
 " I think his father's whims are entitled to some 
 consideration." 
 
 " Consideration, yes ; but if the judgment be 
 against them ? " 
 
 " I suppose a man should follow his judgment." 
 
 " Exactly. Therefore, we'll get married as soon 
 as may be." 
 
 " Not in opposition to your father's will." 
 
 " What ! Why, you said but now " 
 
 " Yes, a man should have the right to regulate 
 his own life ; but that does not mean that he shall 
 have the right to regulate a woman's mind as well. 
 You can do without your father's consent ; I cannot." 
 
 "You cannot? Why?" 
 
 "Have you forgotten what I told you the other 
 day ? " 
 
 "No, I haven't forgotten, but I want you to 
 forget it." 
 
 " There is but one way to bring that about," she 
 smiled ; " bring your father to your way of think- 
 ing." 
 
 " I will. He has only to know that I'm in love 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 115 
 
 with you. I'll tell him. He'll riot a little at first, 
 and set his notions on parade, but " 
 
 " Don't tell him yet," she said, moving a little 
 nearer to him, and slipping her arm through his in 
 a propitiatory way that delighted him. " Don't tell 
 him yet. I think there is something very fasci- 
 nating in being secretly in love. Don't you ? I 
 think that is really the romance of love." 
 
 Wallace took the reins into one hand to answer 
 her. ' 
 
 At Miss Boylston's suggestion the dinner was 
 served under the trees in the garden, hardly a stone's 
 throw from the river's edge. And it was her fancy, 
 too, to have roses, quantities of them, as she said, 
 scattered over the table, flung on with no attempt 
 at arrangement. " Flowers are never so lovely as 
 when they are in disorder, lying as they chance to 
 fall," she explained, throwing a handful of roses half 
 the length of the table as she spoke. When the 
 dishes were brought on, they were set down in utter 
 disregard of crushed buds and bruised petals, which 
 led Allen Bradford to complain to Miss Norris, who 
 sat at his right, that the party should henceforth 
 be known as Herodians. 
 
 " Why Herodians ? " Miss Norris asked. 
 
 "Doesn't this brutal treatment of these roses 
 remind you of the slaughter of the Innocents ? " 
 
Il6 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Bradford," cried Miss Lynn, from across 
 the table, "your jests are always brought from such 
 a distance." 
 
 " Most good things are, Miss Lynn, ladies always 
 except ed. I prefer them home-made." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Bradford," exclaimed Miss Lynn, 
 meaning to be roguish, as she glanced from Bradford 
 to the lady beside him, "have you forgotten that 
 Miss Norris is come from Boston ? " 
 
 "'Tis understood that exceptions prove the rule," 
 Bradford replied, with a sweep of his glance to take 
 in the several comely young ladies. " Miss Norris has 
 all the charms and graces of a native New Yorker." 
 
 This remark arrested the attention of Lieutenant 
 Willett at the other end of the table, and he inter- 
 posed some trifle of light humour that started the 
 most lavish compliments circulating about the table, 
 until amiability unfolded into full flower. The scene 
 was gala, and the spirits of the company were in 
 accord with it. Mynheer Voort, the jovial host, 
 declared to his wife, in one of his excursions to the 
 kitchen, that it would be an easy matter to add some 
 extra shillings to the charge, the party was so well 
 content. Sangaree and mead was plentifully served 
 to cheer the ladies, and the gentlemen drank Madeira 
 with a freedom that speedily brought their wit to 
 their tongue's end, and some of their impudence 
 along with it. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. I I/ 
 
 Wine inspired Wallace Waring with a reckless 
 gaiety which flirted its plumes in the face of caution 
 without ever crossing the bounds of propriety. Allen 
 Bradford, who had come to be the closest of 
 Wallace's friends, declared on one occasion, at the 
 tavern, that it required a bottle or two to bring out 
 Waring' s most estimable qualities of heart and 
 breeding. But now Wallace was not so much 
 enlivened by the wine he drank as by the enjoyment 
 of his first appearance in public as the accepted 
 lover of Miss Luya Vanbergen, and he had a mis- 
 chievous inclination to take the table into his confi- 
 dence. 
 
 He wanted the bond given in the chaise-ride rati- 
 fied by the acclaim of this merry group, and kept 
 Luya in a fever of apprehension by the frequently 
 whispered threat to "tell 'em." 
 
 His attentions to Luya were much too marked to 
 escape the notice of Miss Boylston, and by degrees 
 the condescending indifference with which she had 
 come to regard her one-time school friend gave place 
 to a more positive feeling, which was not, however, 
 of an amiable character. And when, at last, Wallace, 
 challenged to the toast by Mr. Ashton, concluded a 
 gallant eulogy of the " Ladies " with a " God bless 
 them all especially Miss Vanbergen," Miss Boyls- 
 ton smiled and applauded in harmony with the 
 laughter and jests of the others, but shot a glance at 
 
Il8 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 Miss Vanbergen which would have incensed that 
 young lady, had she seen it. 
 
 As the preparations were making for the return to 
 town before the darkness should settle on the road, 
 Miss Boylston found the chance to say, in a politely 
 satirical tone, to Miss Vanbergen : 
 
 " I suppose, of course, that you and Mr. Waring 
 intend to go by way of the Kissing Bridge ? " 
 
 " Is that the road you will take with Lieutenant 
 Willett ? " 
 
 "Lieutenant Willett and I are not on such easy 
 terms." 
 
 " Perhaps you mean, then, to propose that we 
 change escorts ? Would you think the Kissing 
 Bridge the nearest way home if you were in the 
 chaise with Mr. Waring ? " 
 
 " You are insolent, Miss Vanbergen ! " 
 
 " Ah ! then you do recognise insolence in another. 
 I believe this was really your party. Let me thank 
 you, then, for one of the very pleasantest days I have 
 ever known." 
 
 Miss Vanbergen smiled sweetly, made a half-curt- 
 sey and turned away to rejoin the others. 
 
 " Hussy ! " was the unspoken word that trembled 
 on Miss Boylston's lips. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THOUGH Mr. Vanbergen had yielded in many ways 
 to the modern ideas of his daughter, notably in modi- 
 fication of his Dutch dress, upon one point he held 
 stubbornly by the habit of his ancestors. The great 
 raftered and tiled-floor kitchen continued, in spite of 
 new additions to the house, to be the family gather- 
 ing or sitting room. There was a long, low room in 
 the front of the house, which Mrs. Vanbergen and 
 Luya styled the drawing-room, and which Mr. Van- 
 bergen referred to as " t'e pig room," meaning to say 
 the big room ; but this came into use so rarely and 
 then in such a solemnly formal way, that it could 
 hardly be said to be a part of the house. 
 
 Luya had tried in vain to make this the family 
 assembly-room, and, to please her, Vanbergen, for 
 several evenings in succession, sat by the small fire- 
 place, with his pipe, chatting with enforced cheerful- 
 ness to the members of his household or to the 
 chance visitors. But he would seize the first oppor- 
 tunity to escape and take his favourite seat in the 
 vast chimney-corner of the kitchen, "t'e only place 
 t'at seems like home," and where he could be en- 
 no 
 
120 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 tirely happy, even with no other companion than his 
 pipe and tobacco-box. 
 
 So the spinet, the family portraits, and various 
 other glories of the discredited drawing-room were 
 returned to their ancient places in the living-room, 
 which was, after all, the most attractive and comfort- 
 giving quarter of the house, kitchen though it was. 
 Substantial plenty and free-hearted prosperity were 
 indicated in every feature and disposition of the room, 
 from the black pot hanging from its crane in the 
 fireplace to the opposite end of the room, where the 
 tall dresser proudly sustained its wealth of polished 
 pewter. The antlers of a deer fixed over the door- 
 way opening on the garden walk, and bearing on its 
 prongs a heavy flint-lock rifle were dumbly eloquent 
 of the fact that there had been a Vanbergen who 
 knew something of sport and the prowess of arms. 
 Be it said, to the honour of the long "iron," that it 
 had smoked and snorted in defence of New Amster- 
 dam in more than one perilous engagement, and 
 might, if need came, do helpful service still in behalf 
 of New Amsterdam's successor. But the model of a 
 rakish-looking, three-mast craft perched over the 
 hood of the chimney had more interest for Evert 
 Vanbergen than the trophy and the gun left over 
 from Claes Vanbergen's time. The model was that 
 of a privateer which Evert had set out to sea when 
 the exigencies of trade seemed too great for method- 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 121 
 
 ical competition, and it was almost an open secret 
 that the finest quality of Holland rum and the choic- 
 est grades of teas and spices came into Evert Van- 
 bergen's workrooms with a wink and a nod from the 
 customs. He had a curious fashion of waving salu- 
 tations to the model with his pipe-stem when he sat 
 alone before the fireplace, and saying, with a mellow 
 chuckle like the gurgle of rum poured from a wide- 
 lipped jug: 
 
 " You haf tun pretty veil py myself, t'at's so." 
 Other hallowed treasures of the room were the 
 two portraits on the east wall, Evert's father and 
 grandfather, painted in the good stiff fashion of the 
 prim Dutch school ; and, deferentially apart from 
 them, was one of Evert himself, less majestic in style 
 but more artistic in finish, the work of a vagabond 
 Frenchman who thus paid for his passage back to 
 France. 
 
 A potted vine half embowered one of the windows, 
 through which the sunlight filtered to compose a 
 mosaic of ivory and gold upon the floor, the green 
 leaves showing like a rich embroidery against the 
 white stuff curtains looped back at the sides. There 
 were the fragrance and colour of newly gathered 
 flowers to add to the homely charm of the room in 
 which Mrs. Vanbergen and the mulatto girl, Marta, 
 were busy with preparations for the noonday meal, 
 the most important function of the day. Altogether, 
 
122 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 the master of the house was not without reason for 
 his predilections for the kitchen. 
 
 This was the day of the month on which Mr. 
 Stephen Waring came, with punctilious regularity, 
 to examine the statement of accounts, and take a 
 cheque for his share of the profits from the business 
 conducted by Mr. Vanbergen. Once a week, too, 
 they met in this domestic way for a general discus- 
 sion of their affairs, but that was a most perfunctory 
 proceeding on Mr. Waring's part, for he knew almost 
 as little of the practical workings of trade and com- 
 merce as he did the day he became a dormant 
 partner. He was not of that opinion, however, and 
 fostered the belief that his acquiescence in Mr. Van- 
 bergen's plans had all the force of sound advice. 
 But Evert Vanbergen was not in need of any man's 
 advice in the matter of turning trade shillings into 
 commercial pounds, and Mr. Waring would have 
 confessed as much to any one else than himself. 
 
 Because of it being settlement day, Mr. Van- 
 bergen came to the house half an hour earlier than 
 usual, sturdily ignoring, in his walk from Dock 
 Street, the shadowy and noisy evidence that the 
 town-folk and military were escorting the Governor 
 through the streets in one of those quasi-state 
 parades which were given whenever an occasion 
 would present an excuse for them. He seated him- 
 self at the black oak desk at the left of the fireplace, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 123 
 
 to make ready the page of the credit book for Mr. 
 Waring' s signature of receipt in full, and was en- 
 grossed in his task when Mrs. Vanbergen took 
 advantage of Marta's absence from the room to 
 claim his attention. 
 
 " I want to talk to you, Evert." 
 
 " Ton't you see I vas pusy ? " 
 
 "It's about Luya." 
 
 "Veil, t'en, vat is it apout Luya?" 
 
 " She has not been herself for the last week or 
 two." 
 
 " Who haf she peen, t'en ? I ton't see t'at she is 
 somepoty else. You talk foolishness, vife." 
 
 " I mean that she seems to be in a state of mind. 
 It is my belief that Luya is in love." 
 
 "Ja, I t'ink so, also! I haf hat t'at pelief long 
 time ago. Titn't I tell you vat Jacob sait ? " 
 
 "But it isn't with Jacob." 
 
 " Vat is not vit Jacob ? Goot gracious, vife, haf 
 you lost sometings from your he't ? I haf tolt Jacob 
 t'at he can haf her. I ton't t'ink of notings else." 
 
 "Then Jacob had better make haste to take her, 
 for it is my opinion she has other fancies in her 
 head." 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen rose from his chair and approached 
 his wife, in smiling indulgence. He stopped before 
 her, and stood with his hands in the ample pockets 
 of his long waistcoat, and looked at her benevolently, 
 
124 IN OLD MEW YORK. 
 
 but with a certain mocking drollery in the tilt of his 
 large round head. 
 
 " Mr. Vallace Varing, he ? " 
 
 " It looks very much like it, Evert." 
 
 " Oh, my tear, a vooman alvays sees t'ings t'e vay 
 she vants to haf 'em. You'd t'ink it pretty veil now 
 if it vas t'at vay, he ? Veil, I tell you, my fine 
 voomans, Jacob feels sure of Luya, and ven Jacob 
 feels sure, t'ere's no use hafing some ot'er opinion." 
 
 " That is all very well, Evert ; but Jacob felt sure 
 of Black Dan's winning in the race last month." 
 
 " Veil, it took a pullet to peat him, titn't it ? T'at 
 proofed t'at Jacob vas right. Accitents t'at haf no 
 pusiness to happen " 
 
 " But accidents happen in love races, too, Evert," 
 Mrs. Vanbergen interrupted, the thought of the 
 dinner weighing on her mind. "And I just had 
 a mind to tell you that if Jacob wants Luya he'd 
 better be quick about letting her know it ; and I'd 
 advise you to say as much to him. He is coming to 
 dinner to-day. You'd better not let him go away 
 without saying something." 
 
 Mrs. Vanbergen finished her remarks at the door, 
 and was just going out as Mr. Vanbergen asked : 
 
 "Vere is Luya?" 
 
 "Watching the procession with Mr. Waring," Mrs. 
 Vanbergen answered, in that tone of repressed tri- 
 umph with which even the gentlest of women will 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 12$ 
 
 deliver the coup-de-grdce of an argument when chance 
 befriends them. 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen stood some moments as his wife 
 left him, his lips pursed in sign of reflection, his 
 eyes, of a faded blue, blinking off the stages of 
 his thoughts, his hands moving experimentally up 
 and down in his waistcoat pockets. Seeming to 
 have made up his mind to something, he went to 
 his desk, took a box of chessmen from one of the 
 drawers, dragged a small table from a corner, and 
 began arranging the pieces of the squares of the 
 chessboard. 
 
 " I can reason petter vit Jacob ven he's playing 
 chess," Mr. Vanbergen thought. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MR. VANBERGEN surprised himself by getting the 
 advantage in the game, and Jacob's intent applica- 
 tion to the problem of his salvation had not been 
 favourable to conversation. Moreover, the pleasure 
 of an unusual success made Mr. Vanbergen forget, 
 for a time, the real purpose he had in arraying the 
 chessmen in order. He lolled contentedly back in 
 his great armchair, betraying in a permanent smile 
 his enjoyment of Jacob's perplexity. Marta came 
 and went, alternating with Mrs. Vanbergen in the 
 culinary offices without disturbing the preoccupation 
 of the one or the blissful tranquillity of the other. 
 
 "Tere's no hope for you, Jacob," Mr. Vanbergen 
 said, noting with satisfaction the stolid countenance 
 of his opponent. " You joost as veil gif up." 
 
 " Wait," said Jacob, without changing his attitude. 
 
 " Ja ; take your time, Jacob. I like to see a man 
 take plenty time. Bonder ! I make my mint up 
 slowly, too. T'en I ton't haf to make it over some 
 more. 'Tis a goot vay." 
 
 Jacob, who sat supporting his right elbow with his 
 left hand, thus making a prop for his chin, presently 
 
 126 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 12? 
 
 reached forth his right hand as if to move a piece, 
 hesitated, and resumed his original position of patient 
 calculation. 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen rose, chuckling, and went toward 
 the chimney. 
 
 " Ha ! T'at's right, Jacob. I like to see you not 
 in haste." 
 
 He took his pipe from the chimney shelf, reached 
 for his tobacco jar, and, holding it under his arm, 
 proceeded in a methodical, unhurried way to fill his 
 pipe with the leaf he crumbled in his palm. This 
 operation completed to his liking, he picked up a 
 splinter of wood from the hearth, lighted it in the 
 flame of the fire, and, with long, slow inhalations, 
 set the tobacco in the bowl aglow. The properties 
 of the pipe acted so gratefully upon his mind that 
 his thoughts were restored to their normal balance, 
 and he remembered that defeating Jacob at chess 
 was not his primary object. 
 
 "Ja; 'tis true I like to see a man not in haste 
 most of t'e time, Jacob. But not all t'e times. 
 T'ere's one t'ing voult suit me petter if you vas 
 more quick. He ? " 
 
 " What is that ? " Jacob asked, without looking up. 
 
 " T'e same t'ing it has peen t'ese two years, Jacob, 
 more t'an two years. T'e same t'ing ve talket 
 apout one tay just now, Luya. I t'ink you petter 
 speak to her." 
 
128 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Sometime, Mr. Vanbergen. No hurry. But 
 I've been thinking " Jacob interrupted himself to 
 make a second motion toward moving a piece, but 
 again drew back his hand, uncertain. 
 
 "Ja, Jacob, yes? You have been t'inking?" Mr. 
 Vanbergen prompted. 
 
 " I've been thinking that some one ought to tell 
 her. You, I think." 
 
 " I, Jacob ! " Mr. Vanbergen took the pipe from 
 his mouth to give freer expression to his surprise. 
 
 " I think so," Jacob said, in a matter-of-fact way, 
 as he finally made the long debated move. 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen puffed a cloud of smoke and 
 looked into it contemplatively, as if in its writhing 
 and coiling he should find an answer suited to the 
 extraordinary proposition. 
 
 "I ton't know apout t'at, Jacob. It has peen 
 so long since I haf tone my courting, t'at maype I 
 ton't know how some more." 
 
 "I don't want you to do the courting," Jacob 
 said, " I only want you to get her ready to expect 
 what I'm going to tell her sometime. It is your 
 move." 
 
 " Haf you mofed ? " asked Mr. Vanbergen, coming 
 to inspect the board. " Humph ! T'at's somet'ing to 
 t'ink apout" 
 
 After a silence, during which it was evident that 
 his mind was no longer concerned with the fate of 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 129 
 
 the chessmen, Mr. Vanbergen swept the pieces into 
 red and black confusion with a sudden stroke of his 
 chubby hand, and sat down, confidentially insistent, 
 in front of Jacob. 
 
 " Look here, now, Jacob. Luya is only half her 
 fat'er's girl. Ton't forget t'at Mrs. Vanbergen vas 
 English girls ven I marriet her, and Luya haf got 
 some of her moeder in her veins." 
 
 " Well, I am only half a Dutchman," Jacob replied, 
 not entirely clear in his mind what Luya's origin 
 had to do with the matter. 
 
 " Goot ! very goot ! " Mr. Vanbergen rejoined, 
 good-humouredly, seeming to find a joke in Jacob's 
 reply. "'Tis true, Jacob. Put in some t'ings you 
 are as Dutch as me more Dutch t'an me, Jacob, 
 for you ton't see vat is going on even ven somepoty 
 tell you. T'ese are English tays and English vays, 
 Jacob, and you try to make 'em fit t'e old Dutch 
 vays of your grandfat'er. T'at won't to, Jacob; 
 t'at von't to ! You must be more vide avake, and 
 take t'e times as t'ey come to you. 'Tis a time of 
 quickness. You must pe at once." 
 
 " I don't see how I am different from anybody else." 
 " You t'ink so ? Vere is Luya now ? " 
 " Gone to see the procession, I suppose." 
 " And vit Mr. Varing ! You neffer take her out 
 ven people show t'emselves put young girls like 
 gay t'ings, Jacob. 'Tis a pleasant foolishness." 
 
130 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "I haven't time for foolishness, Mr. Vanbergen. 
 When I'm not at business I study, except when I 
 come here. I'm doing that for Luya." 
 
 " Oh, 'tis veil enough to be sensiple insite, Jacob ; 
 put not vit voomans. Tis fashionaple to pe foolish, 
 and fashion is t'e trap to set ven you vant to catch a 
 voomans. A handsome coat and a fine pair of legs 
 in silk stockings and a swort hanging by t'e site are 
 vort all t'e sense in t'e world, Jacob. Vat you say, 
 vife, he ? " turning to Mrs. Vanbergen and acquaint- 
 ing her with the situation. 
 
 " All I can say is this, Jacob," Mrs. Vanbergen 
 said, as she put a beef bone into the great pot of 
 boiling liquid that hung over the fire. " If I had 
 waited for Evert until he had made a scholar of him- 
 self, I might have been waiting yet. When a girl 
 loves a man, she takes him for better or worse ; and 
 she is willing to allow that there are much worse 
 things than not being a college professor. Heart 
 counts for more than brain in marriage, Jacob, but, 
 for that matter, I think you are as sensible as most 
 young men." 
 
 " Bonder ! you hear t'at, Jacob ? " cried Mr. Van- 
 bergen, with an explosion of conjugal pride. " 'Tis 
 t'e pest atvice in t'e work. Ton't pe fools, Jacob 
 and etucation is only a fool's ammunition wise men 
 ton't neet it. Vait and sent your children to school, 
 if you vant to make fine gentlemens of t'em, put 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 131 
 
 use your time for something petter now. Go in for 
 pusiness, Jacob. You can't affort to spent your time 
 at t'e college. Vy, look you how t'e town and trate 
 is growing. Effery ship prings in some more people 
 t'ese English are not like our Dutch t'ey grow, 
 t'ey multiply, and trate grows vit t'em. T'ey haf 
 tone more in forty years vit New York t'an t'e Dutch 
 tit vit New Amstertam in near two huntert. Ve are 
 growing so fast t'at lant is getting to pe vort some- 
 t'ing, and I'm putting effery stiver t'at I ton't neet 
 into any lant t'at is for sale in half a mile of t'e 
 Town Hall. Ve'll haf fifty t'ousant people here 
 some tay." 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen made this last extravagant state- 
 ment with a judicious lowering of the voice ; and, 
 imagining that there was much question of his pro- 
 phetic authority in Jacob's unmoved countenance, he 
 added, by way of caution : 
 
 " But t'e size ton't make some tifference, 'tis t'e 
 trate t'at prings t'e money." From Mr. Vanbergen's 
 standpoint trade had to do with the passing to and 
 fro of ships, and he had other markets for his car- 
 goes than the sunny little town of his birth. 
 
 "Are you willing that I should have Luya as I 
 am ? " Jacob asked, going to Mrs. Vanbergen and 
 taking her by the arm in the half -caressing way he 
 had used with her when he was a boy and under her 
 charge. 
 
132 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Well, Jacob," she answered, a little hesitatingly, 
 " I hadn't thought of you in this way till Evert told 
 me something the other night ; and I don't believe 
 it has come into Luya's head at all. But one never 
 knows, and if Luya loves you, why, I shall love 
 you, too, for you have been like a son to us, after all, 
 Jacob. And as for taking you as you are, nothing 
 the colleges can give you would make you any wor- 
 thier of a good girl's love, and I couldn't ask a 
 better husband for Luya." 
 
 "Tamn it, vife, I'll haf a kiss for t'at ! " cried Mr. 
 Vanbergen, coming to her side and giving hearty 
 effect to his words. " Veil, vat you say, Jacob ? " 
 
 " I'll tell Luya to-day." 
 
 " Spoken like a mans, Jacob ! And if she is as 
 sensiple as her moeder's chilt ought to pe, I'll att 
 anot'er five per cent, to t'at settlement I mate vit 
 you." 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen pinched his wife's cheek as he 
 whispered in her ear : 
 
 " I'm going to name t'e first grantchilt." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "I HAVE brought Mr. Waring home with me," 
 Luya announced, coming in through the side door 
 with a flutter of white drapery and emptying her 
 arms of numerous little parcels. " We've been visit- 
 ing the shops together." 
 
 " Has he come to dinner ? " Mrs. Vanbergen asked. 
 
 " No ; I haven't asked him. I dare say you can 
 persuade him, though. He isn't difficult. I've 
 bought you a Sunday cap, mamma, that will be 
 vastly becoming to you. Tis the latest thing from 
 London, and in the highest vogue. I am determined 
 you shall wear it. La, Jacob, how-de-do ! You are 
 so hidden in smoke I hadn't seen you ! Why were 
 you not out to see the procession ? But I forgot. 
 You don't approve of those things, you are so 
 much a partisan of Mr. Zenger that you hate a 
 royal holiday. Take care, Jacob ! You will get to 
 be known as a rabid anti-royalist, and then I should 
 have to hide when I see you coming. Papa, there 
 is a neckcloth for you, a thing you detest, but which, 
 nevertheless, you shall pretend to like, and pay me 
 
 133 
 
134 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 handsomely for it into the bargain, for I have emptied 
 my purse of the last farthing." 
 
 "Ja," Mr. Vanbergen nodded, thinking that the 
 earth had nothing quite so joy-giving as the impudent 
 tyranny of this young woman ; " I alvays haf to pay 
 goot price for your fafours, Luya. Apout fifteen 
 pounts a kiss, I think." 
 
 "Well, here is one I'll throw in with the neck- 
 cloth, to prove that I'm not a Jew," putting her 
 arms about his neck, and kissing him with unmis- 
 takable affection. 
 
 There was something at once comical and pathetic 
 in the proudly grateful way in which Mr. Vanbergen 
 always received his daughter's caresses. He never 
 got over wondering how it came about that he should 
 have been the begetter of this pink and white perfec- 
 tion, with the astonishingly lively spirit inside of it. 
 
 "What have you done with Mr. Waring?" asked 
 Mrs. Vanbergen, taking a table-cloth from the 
 dresser. 
 
 " Oh, he stopped in front with his father to talk 
 with Mr. Boylston. You'd better get one of your 
 special bottles from the cellar, papa. You know 
 Mr. Stephen Waring's taste." 
 
 "Ja, t'at's so. I'll get him. Oh, py t'e vay, 
 Jacob has somet'ings to talk apout vit you, Luya. 
 Vife, you come and holt a cantles vile I get t'e 
 vine." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 135 
 
 " Can't Marta do that ? " Luya asked, in surprise. 
 
 "Not t'is time," said Mr. Vanbergen, closing his 
 eye at Mrs. Vanbergen, in his fashion of winking. 
 
 " Don't let the kettle boil over, Luya," Mrs. Van- 
 bergen said, in admonition, as she followed her 
 husband out of the room, at the same time inter- 
 cepting Hendrik, who wished to consult Luya about 
 an ailing pigeon. 
 
 " Well, Jacob, what is it you have to say to me ? 
 Something more interesting than usual, I hope, for I 
 declare, Jacob, you are not generally more lively than 
 the chair beside you. What has happened? You 
 look as full of matter as an egg of meat, and solemn 
 enough to mourn at a funeral. Sure, some marvel 
 has come to pass since I saw you yester morn. Have 
 you beaten Governor Cosby at bowls ? Has the proud 
 Miss Boylston or the simpering Miss Lynn thrown 
 you a kiss from her chair ? Did the meteor we saw 
 last night dig a hole in your Long Island farm, and 
 uncover the treasure of Captain Kidd ? Speak, Jacob, 
 for I much fear I'm in the way to laugh, and I'd not 
 do that before I have felt your wit. And yet you 
 must allow, 'tis droll to see you standing there, eyeing 
 me as if you were of a mind to throw your head at 
 me. Come," flirting her handkerchief into his face, 
 as she passed him going to the spinet, "tell me. 
 But, mark you, Jacob, if you wish to take me on a 
 new adventure to discover some wonder of the island, 
 
136 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 you much mistook my temper on the last occasion. I 
 have no wish to flounder, a second time, half lost in a 
 swamp with so poor a guide, to the ruin of my gown 
 and the first really pretty pair of shoes I ever had. 
 Well, well," beginning to play, "are you waiting for 
 my mother to came back with the wine, to loosen 
 your tongue?" 
 
 " No," said Jacob, in his solemnly measured way, 
 " I was waiting for a chance to speak. I want to 
 marry you." 
 
 Luya turned quickly about in her chair to look 
 at him. He had not moved from his position, but 
 stood gravely regarding her, his hands in his coat 
 pockets. She rose, laughingly, and came toward 
 him. 
 
 " Why, Jacob, what put that idea into your head ? 
 What made you think of anything like that ? Why, 
 I have known you all my life, we have played 
 together since we were no higher than this table, 
 and this is the first time I ever thought you had a 
 bit of humour." She took his chin between her 
 thumb and finger, and gave his head a shake. " So 
 you thought you'd laugh at me ? " 
 
 " No," he answered, simply, his hands still deep 
 in his pockets, "I'm not laughing at you. I love 
 you." 
 
 " And when did you find it out ? " she asked, 
 teasingly, with another pull at his chin. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 137 
 
 "I have always known it." 
 
 " And you never thought to tell me ? " 
 
 " I waited to get through my studies. You were 
 smarter than I. I wanted to educate myself. I 
 wanted to be worthy of you." 
 
 There was too much earnestness in the frank, 
 honest face, and too much self-depreciation in the 
 worshipful attitude of the man into whose heart she 
 had never thought to look, to permit of further 
 lightness on her part. She was touched by his 
 manner, and guiltily realised that she had been sur- 
 prised into a cruelly ungenerous treatment of him. 
 
 " And you really love me ? " 
 
 "It seems to me there is nothing else in the 
 world but you." 
 
 She moved away from him a few steps, troubled 
 in heart and mind what to say most gently to make 
 him understand. She felt a sudden great sympathy 
 with him, thinking what it would mean to her to 
 love without being loved in return, and in pitying 
 him she was forgetting to answer him. 
 
 He came a little toward her, but hesitatingly. 
 
 "Well, Luya?" 
 
 She returned to him, putting her hand caress- 
 ingly on his arm, and looking into his face with such 
 kindness in her eyes that his heart quickened its 
 beating, and he put up one hand to rest on hers. 
 
 "I would not willingly break the wing of a fly, 
 
138 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 Jacob. It is far from my wish to wound the feel- 
 ings of an old friend. We are old friends. We 
 have been the best of friends, very, very dear 
 friends." 
 
 She paused a moment, but he waited in silence. 
 He saw no need to answer her. 
 
 "Do you know," she continued, "they tell me 
 that my mother was your father's first sweetheart, 
 that is to say, he loved her, but she only 
 esteemed him, Jacob. We cannot do what we will 
 with love. Love comes in its own way to us, and 
 it comes without our bidding. Your father found 
 happiness in another love, and and so may you. 
 I am very fond of you, Jacob, I shall always want 
 you for my friend, but I do not love you in the 
 way you would have me." 
 
 " Never mind, Luya," he said, taking her two hands 
 in his ; " I can wait." 
 
 " 'Tis not that, either, Jacob. It is not as if it 
 is not as if there were no one else." 
 
 She felt his hands tighten on hers, and looked up 
 in time to see the change in his face, a swift passing 
 expression of pain that took the colour from his 
 cheeks. 
 
 " You love some one else ? " 
 
 Yes, Jacob." 
 
 "Wallace Waring?" 
 
 There was neither jealousy nor bitterness in the 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 139 
 
 tone, and the question was less a question than a 
 recognition of a fact. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, frankly. 
 
 " And he loves you ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Jacob slowly released her hands, stood a moment 
 silently looking into her face, and then went to take 
 down his hat from the peg on which it hung, at the 
 end of the fireplace. 
 
 "You are not angry with me ? " she asked, follow- 
 ing a little after him. 
 
 " Angry with you, Luya ! " He was much hurt 
 by the thought. He put out his hand to her. " If 
 you are happy, that will make me happy, too." 
 
 " And we shall be the same good friends we have 
 always been ? " 
 
 "Always, Luya." 
 
 " And you won't think any less of " she 
 hesitated. 
 
 "I cannot think ill of any one whom you can 
 love, Luya," divining what was in her mind. 
 
 They stood with hands clasped on this loyal com- 
 pact as Mr. Vanbergen, accompanied by Mr. Waring, 
 entered the room. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MR. VANBERGEN noted, with the liveliest satisfac- 
 tion, the friendly attitude of the young people as he 
 entered the room. He drew from it the most favour- 
 able inferences, troubling himself not a jot with any 
 of the mysteries of facial expression. It was quite 
 enough for him that Jacob had been standing in front 
 of Luya, holding one of her hands smothered between 
 both of his. In Mr. Vanbergen's book of revelations 
 there was but one interpretation allowed to each 
 group of human hieroglyphs ; clasped hands and eyes 
 looking into eyes, when the figures were youths of 
 the opposite sex, meant the fulfilment of paternal 
 hopes, and nothing less. So Mr. Vanbergen had a 
 good many winks and nods of a highly significant 
 character to throw to whom would take them as he 
 ushered Mr. Waring in, relieved him of his hat, and 
 chatted in an animated but unintelligible way as he 
 bustled about, nervous with eagerness to get a private 
 word with Jacob. 
 
 Mr. Waring shook hands with Jacob, and asked if 
 it were true, as he had heard, that he, Jacob, had 
 
 140 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 141 
 
 loaned Mr. Zenger money to further some of his 
 printing schemes. 
 
 "But a small amount, for a little time, Mr. 
 Waring." 
 
 " I advise you not to mix with him," said Mr. War- 
 ing, going to the fireplace and stretching out his 
 hands over the flame, for the day was chilly in 
 spite of the midsummer. "Zenger is a trouble- 
 some creature, and I marvel at the Governor's tol- 
 erance of his sedition. 'Twould be a sorry business 
 if he should stir up the rebellion he seems to strike 
 at." 
 
 Luya had quitted the room at the first opportunity, 
 making the excuse of helping her mother with the 
 beverages to escape her father's questioning. Jacob 
 had moved toward the outer door while Mr. Waring 
 was talking and had his hand on the latch, when Mr. 
 Vanbergen grasped him by the arm, and eagerly 
 demanded, in what he meant for a whisper : 
 
 "Ten you tolt her?" 
 
 " Yes, I told her," Jacob answered, placidly. 
 
 "Ant 'tis settlet?" 
 
 " Yes, it is settled." 
 
 " Goot, goot ! T'at's vat I tolt you ! " giving Jacob 
 a lusty blow of joyous affection upon the shoulder. 
 " Put you are not going avay ? " 
 
 " I'm going to get Hendrik's pigeons. I promised 
 to give them a fly this afternoon." 
 
142 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "Ja, veil. Put I vant to talk vit you pefore you 
 
 go." 
 
 Jacob went out, and Mr. Vanbergen turned exult- 
 antly to Mr. Waring. 
 
 "Vat vould you t'ink of Jacob for a sons-in-law, 
 Mr. Varing, he ? A nice young fellows, he ? " 
 
 " A likely young man, I should say, Vanbergen, 
 and very suitable." 
 
 " Ja, I t'ink so. Ant Luya t'ink so, too." 
 
 "I congratulate you. Well, are the accounts 
 ready for my inspection ? " 
 
 " All reaty, Mr. Varing. Here t'ey are." Mr. 
 Vanbergen opened the book of entries lying on his 
 desk. 
 
 Mrs. Vanbergen, on whose kindly face there was 
 the shadow of a grief, came in, followed by Marta 
 bearing a bottle and a stone jug, which she put down 
 on the dresser. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Waring ? " 
 
 " Well enough, I thank you, Mrs. Vanbergen. I 
 need not ask concerning your health. I'm sure 
 Hygeia herself was not so rosy at your years." 
 
 " Then Hygeia had nothing to do with housework," 
 Mrs. Vanbergen said, turning from Mr. Waring to the 
 dresser. "But I shall give an extra spice to your 
 mulled Madeira for the compliment." 
 
 " Let me put you to less trouble. If you will give 
 me some rum in a thimble of hot water, I shall be 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 143 
 
 more obliged to you. These unheard-of changes of 
 weather get into my bones, and rum, though I detest 
 it, is the best corrective I know of." 
 
 "Ja," Mr. Vanbergen volunteered, from the writ- 
 ing-desk, " if you voult trink rum all t'e time, Mr. Var- 
 ing, you voult neffer haf some trouple in your pones. 
 I haf trunk rum until I hafn't got any pones to 
 trouple." Mr. Vanbergen shook like a jelly in chuck- 
 ling enjoyment of his jest at the expense of his girth, 
 and reached out his balance-sheet to Mr. Waring. 
 
 " Did I hear Mr. Waring asking for rum ? " Luya 
 said, as she entered from the adjoining room. " If 
 you will let me serve you, I know a way to make a 
 delicious hot drink with rum." 
 
 " If you know a way to make rum delicious, Miss 
 Vanbergen, I shall be glad to buy the secret of you 
 at your own price." 
 
 " I am not sure you would keep your part of the 
 bargain if I should name you my terms, so I'll keep 
 my secret." 
 
 Luya, relieving her mother, and dismissing Marta 
 to other cares, took the jug to fill it from the iron 
 kettle droning its pleasantly monotonous song from 
 a bracket over the fire. 
 
 " Will you take luck with us at table to-day, Mr. 
 Waring ? " Mrs. Vanbergen asked, taking the table- 
 cloth from a drawer of the dresser. 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Vanbergen, but I only have 
 
144 IN OLD A~W YORK. 
 
 time for my usual business quarrel with your hus- 
 band. Besides, you know I have the habit of 
 later dining." 
 
 "Your son has broken over that rule with us/' 
 Mrs. Vanbergen suggested, with a touch of grimness 
 in her smile, for she was not entirely ignorant of 
 Mr. Waring's peculiar prejudices. 
 
 " But my son is an irresponsible young gentleman, 
 Mrs. Vanbergen, who conforms to very few rules, 
 even those of his own making." He began running 
 his eye up and down the sheet. 
 
 Luya, having filled the jug, obeyed a signal from 
 her father, and came to him on her way to the 
 dresser. 
 
 " And how is Mistress Jacob Wilbruch ? " he asked, 
 in a low tone, playfully pinching her cheek as she 
 bent toward him. 
 
 "You are mistaken, father; I have said no to 
 Jacob," she whispered, and hurried away. 
 
 " Vat ! " exclaimed Mr. Vanbergen, betrayed into 
 a violent loudness by the shock of emotion. "Is 
 t'at t'e vay it vas settlet ? " 
 
 "What's the matter, Vanbergen?" cried Mr. 
 Waring, startled by the sudden outburst. 
 
 " Not'ings," replied Mr. Vanbergen, gloomily sink- 
 ing into himself. Then, feeling a necessity to make 
 some explanation of his want of self-control, and yet 
 unwilling to admit that his hopes were utterly dashed 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 145 
 
 to earth, he laughed in a sobbing sort of way, rub- 
 bing the back of his hand, and added, " I t'ink Luya 
 spilt some hot waters on me. Voomans, Mr. Var- 
 ing, is t'e most careless peoples t'at t'e goot Got 
 haf mate. T'ey pring all our trouples." 
 
 " And some of our blessings, Vanbergen." 
 
 "Oh, t'ey haf t'eir uses, Mr. Varing." 
 
 " And, while I am about it, papa, shall I fill a cup 
 for you ? " 
 
 "Oh, ja yes," said Mr. Vanbergen, turning 
 about in his chair, and giving a thump of his fist to 
 the desk. " Rum is your only * kill tevil.' I'll 
 trink some vit Mr. Varing." 
 
 "And permit me a like privilege, I hope, Mr. 
 Vanbergen," Wallace cheerily called in through the 
 open window. " The town knows the virtue of 
 your rum, and I believe it has not so much as the 
 stain of a king's tax on it." 
 
 "Ton't say t'at, Mr. Vallace. I gif t'e king a 
 little someting quietly. But come in, you shall 
 haf some." 
 
 Wallace disappeared from the window and entered 
 at the door as Mr. Waring received his cup of steam- 
 ing spiced rum from Luya. A better student of 
 physiognomy than Mr. Vanbergen, Mr. Waring knew 
 very well how to read the signs " writ by the senti- 
 ments on nature's vellum." He had several mental 
 memoranda relating to his son and Miss Vanbergen ; 
 
146 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 and when he learned that Wallace had gone so far 
 as to take the young lady to the dinner at the East 
 River House, thus flinging her, as it were, into the 
 very face of Miss Boylston, he was strongly tempted 
 to moralise with the profligate young gentleman. He 
 had been restrained by the consideration that paternal 
 remonstrances are often like a fan to smouldering 
 embers. He had not forgotten how greatly his own 
 rebellious energies had been stimulated by the oppo- 
 sitions of an incautious father. Indeed, if Mr. Waring 
 had any rule to govern his relations with his son, it 
 was based on the sagacious reflection of Eliphaz the 
 Temanite : " Should a wise man utter windy knowl- 
 edge ? Should he reason with unprofitable talk ? " 
 He managed Wallace by indirection, and had much 
 faith in the system. So, when he saw the exchange 
 of eloquent pantomime between Luya and Wallace, 
 as the young gentleman came into the room with 
 engaging assurance, Mr. Waring felt a mischievous 
 inclination to give this gallant impudence a check. 
 
 Therefore, holding the cup well above his head 
 in the most courtly fashion, and smiling amiably in 
 Luya's direction, he said, banteringly : 
 
 "Miss Vanbergen's health, and my congratula- 
 tions on the happiness that has come to her ! And 
 I hope, Vanbergen, the young man will prove to be 
 an excellent son-in-law. I believe he is a very 
 worthy fellow." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 147 
 
 He sipped his rum, glancing over the rim of his 
 cup in keen enjoyment of the effect his words had 
 produced on Wallace, who stood as if struck into 
 a consternation. Luya was hardly less astonished, 
 and both Mr. and Mrs. Vanbergen were hopelessly 
 confused. 
 
 But Wallace did not take long to find his tongue. 
 
 " Son-in-law ! Who the devil is your son-in-law, 
 Mr. Vanbergen ? for I swear you had no such 
 creature half an hour ago. I fear, sir," turning to 
 his father, " you have somewhat anticipated " 
 
 Luya, fearing that Wallace might be hurried into 
 much too liberal speech by his ardour, pulled him by 
 the sleeve, as she said, with a laugh : 
 
 "La, Mr. Waring, if your father has been 
 obliging enough to choose me out a husband, I 
 hope you are not uncharitable enough to rob me of 
 him ? " 
 
 " No, by my faith, I'd rather help you to one ! " 
 Wallace exclaimed, catching her meaning and re- 
 covering his emotional balance. " But I hope to be 
 as soon in the family confidence as my father." 
 
 " Make my son easy, Vanbergen, for I'm much 
 to blame in having betrayed your secret ; though I 
 did not think 'twas a confidence you gave me." 
 
 "Bonder and duivels, Mr. Varing, I vas a fool! 
 I spoke too quick. I haf no sons-in-law ! I'm very 
 sorry put I can't help it. Jacob is such a tarn pat 
 
148 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 talker t'at I titn't unterstant him. T'at is all. T'ere 
 is t'e cheque for seven huntret pounts, your share 
 of t'e pusiness. Vill you pe goot enough to sign t'e 
 receipt ? " 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " So, madam," said Wallace, as he walked with 
 Luya to the dresser to take a sip of her brew, " you 
 have taken advantage of my absence to have a scene 
 with Mr. Wilbruch, if I may draw conclusions from 
 what I hear ? " 
 
 Yes poor fellow!" 
 
 " You pity him ? That is a dangerous symptom. 
 I think it well that I inquire into the particulars. 
 What were they ? I'm curious to know." 
 
 Luya looked up at him, half seriously. 
 
 " Do you think I would tell you ? " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Why not! Because." 
 
 "But you refused him in terms he couldn't mis- 
 understand ? " 
 
 " Why, I believe you are jealous, Wallace ! " 
 
 " I am. And if Jacob has found his tongue, it 
 does not become me to keep silence. Does Jacob 
 know that it is I who " 
 
 "Yes," she interrupted quickly, as if the question 
 could in some way wound anew the heart she thought 
 was full enough of pain from her refusal. 
 
 149 
 
ISO IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " If Jacob knows, the others should know, too. I 
 won't deal with my love as if I were ashamed of it. 
 I'll not have Jacob or any man think that I'm not 
 proud of your love. Gad's life! now that the sub- 
 ject is up in their minds, I'll tell our fathers while I 
 have them so conveniently together." 
 
 "No," she pleaded, "not now not while I am 
 by ! " 
 
 " Not while you are by ! " 
 
 " No ; I'm afraid of your father." 
 
 " You mean, you think he will have the bad taste 
 to be unpleasant ? Gad, Luya, if I had any real 
 doubt of my father's common sense, I could make no 
 better argument to correct him than to set your face 
 before him, for I know no man who has a greater 
 weakness in the presence of delicate beauty." 
 
 " Then let it be some other time. It would seem 
 to me to be ungenerous if it should come so soon 
 after" 
 
 " Oh ! " Wallace said, impatiently, cutting in upon 
 her thought. " You are much too scrupulous. You 
 have a mighty fear that Mr. Wilbruch may think you 
 have no lingering fancy for him. I didn't mean that, 
 either," he hastily added, seeing the surprise in her 
 eyes, " but I have a devil of a temper that will lay 
 my tongue by the heels in spite of my good nature. 
 Yet I swear I see no virtue in our waiting." 
 
 "Veil, are you satisfiet ? " Mr. Vanbergen de- 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 151 
 
 manded, as Mr. Waring rose from the desk and 
 buttoned the cheque into his pocket. 
 
 " Quite. You are most exemplary, Vanbergen, 
 and most discreet. Our affairs go on very well, and 
 I do full justice to your business judgment except 
 that I think you are making a mistake in putting so 
 much of your money into the dirt of New York. I 
 im told that you have even bought a patch of ground 
 toward the Palisades." 
 !/<Ja; 'twas cheap." 
 
 Mr. Waring shook his head sagely. 
 
 " Buying land west of the Broadway is much the 
 same as throwing money away." 
 
 "That is what I tell Evert," Mrs. Vanbergen said, 
 riefully, taking a spoonful of broth from the boiling 
 pot to test its merits. " He drives very good trades, 
 but he plays strange pranks with his profits." 
 
 "Mr. Vanbergen has more faith in the English 
 than the English have in themselves," Wallace inter- 
 posed. " He may be wiser than the rest of us, Mrs. 
 Vinbergen." 
 
 "The colonists are losing loyalty, or such blatant 
 fellows as the printer Zenger would not be endured. 
 Tiey are beginning to awaken the distrust of our 
 people at home, and that is bad for land invest- 
 ments, Vanbergen. English funds are safer." 
 
 " T'at may pe so. But t'ere vill pe no trouples, 
 aid I t'ink New York vill grow. I'll leave my 
 
152 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 daughter's chiltren grount enough to built t'eir 
 houses on, and maype somet'ing to built t'e houses 
 vit, besites." 
 
 " I hope so, Vanbergen. Shall we go, Wallace, or 
 do you dine at home to-day ? " 
 
 " Well, no, father, I'm not to dine at home," Wal- 
 lace answered, hesitatingly, glancing toward Luya, 
 in the hope to find an encouraging response from 
 her eyes, but encountering a forbidding frown and 
 shake of the head. "The fact is, sir " 
 
 "'Tis no matter," Mr. Waring said, affably. < T J 
 dare say you have some occasion at the tavern 
 But you have taken to reckless play of late, I feat 
 I do not wish to keep you from the fashion, and to 
 play freely is a gentleman's necessity; but if yoa 
 lose too freely, I might as well squander my money 
 as Vanbergen does his in the purchase of worthless 
 land. Have a care," he gave good-humourd. 
 warning, as he went toward the door, "or ydu 
 will have to marry a fortune without much bait 1o 
 it." 
 
 " I hope you count happiness a fortune, sir ? " 
 
 " But I have little faith in happiness without for- 
 tune." 
 
 " I am not of your opinion, sir." 
 
 " I am not of your opinion, also, Mr. Varing ; he, 
 vife ? T'e pest happiness t'at some peoples has, 
 Mr. Varing, is ven t'ey vork togetter vit lofe to 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 153 
 
 make t'eir fortune. T'en, if t'ey miss t'e fortune, 
 t'ey haf alreaty hat t'e happiness." 
 
 " A- very pretty thing in books, Vanbergen ; but it 
 does not work out in practice." 
 
 " I have a mind to make the experiment, father," 
 Wallace declared, going toward Luya, who would 
 have been glad to escape him. 
 
 "You are hardly in the position," Mr. Waring 
 smiled. " I have anticipated you. You begin your 
 quest of happiness with a fortune made ready to 
 your hand." 
 
 " Then, sir, you cannot deny that I am the most 
 favoured of men, for I have found my happiness also 
 ready to my hand, since 'tis entirely in the possession 
 of this young lady," taking the reluctant and really 
 trembling Luya by the hand, "whom I protest to 
 you I love more devotedly than I value life. If you 
 approve, sir, indeed, I will not do yo uthe wrong 
 to doubt that you have approved already, and so, 
 Mr. Vanbergen, I have the honour to demand your 
 daughter's hand in marriage." 
 
 Wallace spoke with such earnestness and decision, 
 suiting his action so abruptly to the word, that the 
 others were struck into astonishment. Mr. Waring 
 stood with his hand on the door-latch, and seemed 
 transfixed in that position of arrested movement. 
 Mrs. Vanbergen looked as if she were expecting the 
 climax of a tragedy, and Luya herself had clung to 
 
154 IM OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 the arm of Wallace, vainly attempting to arrest by 
 negative tugs and murmurs what she perceived to be 
 an ineffectual avowal. Mr. Vanbergen alone seemed 
 wholly undisturbed, the only visible difference being 
 that he smoked his pipe with quick, short puffs, 
 instead of by the slow drawing process that pro- 
 claims the mind at ease. 
 
 " You lofe him, Luya ? " Mr. Vanbergen asked, in 
 response to Wallace's demand. 
 
 "Yes," Luya answered, going toward the spinet, 
 her courage coming back with the answer. 
 
 "Veil, Mr. Varing?" he asked, invitingly, looking 
 toward the door where Mr. Waring stood. 
 
 There was a satirical smile on Mr. Waring's lips, 
 and something of a sneer in his voice, as he remarked, 
 in a general sort of apostrophe : 
 
 " When was this comedy rehearsed ? 'Tis acted 
 to the nature." 
 
 " I hope, sir, you find no amusement in what con- 
 cerns me vitally," Wallace began, with respectful 
 firmness. " 'Tis a matter not only of my happiness, 
 but of that which is more to be thought of 
 
 " Much more to be thought of," Mr. Waring quietly 
 interrupted, returning into the room, and putting his 
 hat under his arm, that he might take one hand in 
 the other, as his habit was in oratorical moments, 
 " much more to be thought of, since 'tis a matter of 
 common sense, your position in the world and your 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 155 
 
 prospects for the future. I am not one of the play- 
 acting sort of fathers, my dear Wallace. I don't 
 storm and bluster in the first scene, to end with a 
 benevolent pardon in the last. I hope I take a prac- 
 tical view of these affairs, as I do of others, and I 
 quite believe that a man of your years should be 
 allowed a considerable freedom in the management 
 of his life. I should only undertake to advise you ; 
 I should not think of applying compulsory measures, 
 even to the extent of exercising an allowed parental 
 authority. You are free to follow your own inclina- 
 tions, to marry whom you please. Miss Van- 
 bergen," and Mr. Waring made a polite bow in 
 her direction, "is, no doubt, as estimable as she is 
 attractive. I do not in the least blame you for find- 
 ing charms in her. I should question your taste if 
 you did not. But admiration should not be permitted 
 to override judgment." 
 
 Into Mrs. Vanbergen's mild countenance came an 
 expression of offended pride, and, with her head 
 raised with more than common dignity, she went to 
 where Luya stood, pale but motionless, intending to 
 lead her daughter from the room. But Luya was of 
 another mind. Mr. Vanbergen was panting out 
 furious puffs of smoke, the more incensed for not 
 clearly understanding the half Mr. Waring was say- 
 ing in that politely cynical monotone. 
 
 Though nothing had been said that called for his 
 
156 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 resentment, Wallace felt a rising indignation against 
 the intimations of his father's diplomatic speech, and 
 he thought to put an end to the situation by the 
 heroic anticipation of the judgment to be rendered. 
 
 "I beg of you, sir," he began, impetuously. 
 
 " I beg of you, my dear Wallace," Mr. Waring 
 said, with a rebuking gesture. " We need not mince 
 the matter. 'Tis wisest to look things fairly in the 
 face. In plain terms, then, you belong to a partic- 
 ular world ; you are a gentleman. Mr. Vanbergen 
 is a tradesman, a very worthy one, I admit, 
 but" 
 
 " He is a merchant, Mr. Waring," Mrs. Vanbergen 
 interjected, with an earnestness amounting to asper- 
 ity, "a rich merchant, and among the foremost 
 citizens of New York." 
 
 " And one with whom you are yourself associated 
 in business," Wallace added, with unnecessary heat. 
 
 " Not associated," Mr. Waring replied, with a cor- 
 rective emphasis on the word. " Mr. Vanbergen 
 uses my money as my gardener uses my garden 
 implements, but I am not a gardener because I 
 own the tools." 
 
 " For shame, sir ! " cried Wallace. 
 
 "I am making your fortune for you," Mr. Van- 
 bergen said, bluntly, as if that were a finality. 
 
 Mr. Waring assented gracefully. 
 
 " It is true, Vanbergen, that the money I place in 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 your hands brings me handsome returns. I bow to 
 your excellent commercial ability, to the exercise 
 of which my capital has, you must confess, greatly 
 contributed. I hope our pleasant and mutually 
 profitable relations may long continue undisturbed. 
 But the same considerations which have made it im- 
 possible for me to be openly identified with your 
 enterprises make it impossible for me to consent to a 
 family union. I am much grieved to be at the 
 necessity of speaking so frankly, especially,' 1 with a 
 deferential bow, " in Miss Vanbergen's presence. It 
 is better, however, that there should be no misunder- 
 standing." 
 
 " I think, sir, we are already at a perfect under- 
 standing," Wallace declared. 
 
 Mr. Waring continued addressing Mr. Vanbergen, 
 without heeding the interruption. 
 
 " If my son chooses to marry your daughter, Van- 
 bergen, it must be without my sanction. If he 
 marries without my sanction well, my dear Wal- 
 lace, I think you have already had my mind on the 
 consequences of such a step. While you do not go 
 in opposition to my wishes, all I have is freely at 
 your command. You cannot complain that I have 
 not been an indulgent father. But if you think 
 proper to go contrary to my wishes, you must look 
 to yourself." 
 
 Mr. Waring bowed and turned toward the door. 
 
158 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " So be it, sir ! " Wallace cried. " If you can be 
 unjust, thank God I can be independent ! I choose," 
 taking Luya's hand as he spoke. 
 
 "You are your own master, Wallace," Mr. Waring 
 assented, calmly. " I dare say you can get on with- 
 out my help. But if you go on in this fashion of 
 sacrificing intelligence to sentiment, you will find 
 the world a mischievous adversary. By the way, 
 Vanbergen, that ship is expected in to-morrow, I 
 believe you said ? " 
 
 "Ja, to-morrow," Mr. Vanbergen answered, gruffly 
 enough. 
 
 "It should bring a pretty penny." Mr. Waring 
 opened the door. 
 
 Luya stepped forward. 
 
 " Mr. Waring ! " she said, with quiet dignity, 
 arresting the outgoing of that gentleman. She 
 waited until he had come into the room and closed 
 the door again, the simple authority of her manner 
 seeming to compel the civility. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Vanbergen ? " 
 
 "It is true my father is a tradesman, as you call 
 him, and so were his father and his grandfather before 
 him," pointing to the solemn Dutch portraits on the 
 wall. " Honourable tradesmen prosperous trades- 
 men, as proud in their way as you in yours, Mr. 
 Waring, not less proud because they made their 
 own fortunes and earned their own respectability. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 159 
 
 And I am proud to be the daughter of those trades- 
 men, merchant tradesmen, and if I am happy 
 enough to be the wife of your son, it shall only be 
 after you have come to my father to ask him for my 
 hand." 
 
 "Ja, py donder, it shall pe t'at vay !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Vanbergen, flinging his pipe against the hearth- 
 stone with savage satisfaction. " Vife, it's time for 
 t'e tinner." 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WALLACE remained behind Mr. Waring with the 
 purpose to exorcise the bad effects of his father's 
 impiety, for he thought it nothing less than 
 impious that the exalted object of his devoted 
 affection should have been treated with so much 
 cynical disesteem. He would have begun by tak- 
 ing Luya into the desolation of the drawing-room, 
 that they might forge in the fires of their indigna- 
 tion a fine resolution not to be made the marionettes 
 of a caprice that he regarded as being the very 
 absurdity of tyranny. But, though Luya's heart 
 would have been very glad to take consolation in 
 this wise, her pride was determined on the sacrifice 
 of all other emotions to the righteous demands of 
 outraged dignity ; and the unmerited punishment 
 of Wallace necessarily entered into the scheme of 
 moral readjustment. In short, Miss Vanbergen's 
 spirit was up in arms, and she believed that nothing 
 would ever again render it docile but the proper 
 humiliation of Mr. Stephen Waring. 
 
 She began, therefore, by telling Wallace that, 
 
 within the circumstances, any intimacy between 
 
 160 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. l6l 
 
 them was no longer possible, and that she could 
 not hereafter receive him at the house, save upon 
 the most formal footing, and she would feel the 
 more obliged to him if his visits were discontinued 
 altogether. 
 
 " Good heaven, Luya ! I hope you are not of 
 a mind to turn me away ! " he exclaimed, aghast, and 
 with an appealing look from her to her parents. 
 
 " It cannot be to my credit to keep you near me," 
 she replied, her Spartan quality not being entirely 
 proof against a feeling that succeeded in giving 
 a certain degree of unsteadiness to her voice. 
 
 " Not to your credit ! " he repeated. " Hang me 
 if I can see in what way your credit shall be put in 
 peril by my devotion to your honour ! " 
 
 " Luya is certainly in the right," Mrs. Vanbergen 
 interposed, somewhat to the young lady's regret. 
 "Though I feel that we have much reason to be 
 offended by what your father took it on himself 
 to say, 'tis not to be denied that you owe your father 
 obedience, or, if you do not, we owe it to ourselves 
 not to be the means of bringing about a scandal." 
 
 "Ja," Mr. Vanbergen assented, impressively, "t'e 
 voomans is right, Mr. Varing, and, since you cannot 
 marry Luya, 'tis petter t'at you " 
 
 " But I mean to marry her, if you will give her to 
 me," Wallace avowed, with ardour. " I'm not a boy 
 to be stood in a corner, Mr. Vanbergen. Gad's life ! 
 
1 62 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 I'm willing to have my father's approbation, but I'm 
 not so little the man but I can do without it if he be 
 unreasonable ! I choose a wife to please myself. 
 If he be not pleased, the pity is with his want of 
 judgment." 
 
 " You were to blame, Wallace, in taking your 
 father so much unaware," Luya argued, "for I would 
 have had you wait till he should like me better. But 
 'tis now too late. I warned you that I could not do 
 without your father's consent " 
 
 " Plague take his consent, Luya ! We shall do as 
 well without it till he come to the recovery of his 
 reason." 
 
 " He must come to that recovery first," she said, 
 smiling at the turn of the phrase, but none the less 
 fixed of purpose for that. "I cannot marry one 
 whose father is ashamed to receive me as his daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 "But he shall receive you and be proud of the 
 privilege ! He shall come to beg you " 
 
 " Don't count on that," she said. " But, until he 
 does come " 
 
 " Don't make any conditions ! You can't turn me 
 away. I won't be turned away. After all, Mr. Van- 
 bergen, if I displease my father, 'tis through no fault 
 of my own ; and if I merit your daughter in myself, 
 I hope you do not think me to be less deserving of 
 her because my father shuts his purse on me? " % 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK 163 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen was not the man to say that the 
 weight of a purse has no part in the desirable 
 make-up of a son-in-law, neither was he the father 
 to balance his daughter's happiness against a money- 
 bag. 
 
 "Veil, Mr. Varing, as long as Luya haf enough 
 moneys for two peoples ve von't haf to t'ink vat you 
 haf in your purse. It makes no tifference to Luya 
 vedder you haf some moneys or not some, ven you 
 come to her, put, as Luya haf sait, I t'ink your fat'er 
 hat petter sait yes pefore ve can feel glat to haf you 
 come here some more." 
 
 After further conversation, in which it became 
 painfully clear to him that Luya was strongly fixed 
 in the purpose not to compromise her dignity by any 
 form of surrender, Wallace left the house not sure 
 whether he was more angry with his father than pro- 
 voked against Luya. He thought it most unreason- 
 able that a girl should hold so stubbornly by a scruple 
 of conduct that seemed to him even more arbitrary 
 than his father's worldly perversity. He was half 
 minded to try the virtue of piquing Luya into com- 
 pliance with his wish by manoeuvring in the sunlight 
 of Miss Boylston's favours. 
 
 But when he had gone Luya sat down to the 
 spinet and began strumming in a way so utterly dis- 
 consolate and dejected that Mr. and Mrs. Vanbergen 
 exchanged several gloomy head-shakings, the mother 
 
164 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 even going so far as to shed a secret tear or two into 
 the corner of her voluminous apron. 
 
 Hendrik, who never in vain appealed to the sym- 
 pathies or interest of Luya, had come into the room 
 noisily at the promptings of appetite, and, oppressed 
 by the solemnity that he saw in the face of his 
 parents, betook himself to his sister's side. 
 
 "What's the matter, Luya? What's the matter 
 with everybody ? " 
 
 "There is nothing the matter with anybody, 
 Hendrik. Do go away. I don't want to be 
 annoyed." 
 
 Hendrik's eyes opened wide in amazement. He 
 moved back a step, the better to contemplate this 
 strange young person in the image of his sister, for 
 his real sister had never spoken to him after that 
 manner. But Luya repented her of an impatience 
 that had struck at an idol in the child's mind, and, 
 before he had got over the first stage of his hurt 
 bewilderment, her arms were about him, and her 
 lips were making her peace with him. 
 
 " Luya was very wicked to speak so unkindly," 
 she said, " but she wasn't really speaking to Hendrik, 
 was she, dear ? For she was thinking of some one 
 else who isn't so little, nor so handsome and fine, 
 either, Hendrik." 
 
 " But too fine, for all t'at," Mr. Vanbergen said, 
 thinking it was opportune to state the conclusions of 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 165 
 
 his silent reflections. " I tell you vat I ton't t'ink, 
 Luya; I ton't t'ink it is goot for a girls to marry 
 apove her he't." 
 
 " What do you mean, papa ? " 
 
 "Just what I should like to know, Evert," Mrs. 
 Vanbergen exclaimed, arresting her employment, the 
 better to enlarge her opinion. " What do you mean 
 by her marrying above her head ? I'd have you 
 remember, Evert, that Luya has as good blood in 
 her veins as any that flows in Mr. Waring's body. 
 And as for money, for all you make so little show 
 of it, I dare say you have quite as much as Mr. 
 Waring." 
 
 " Tat may pe t'at may pe, but I am in trate, 
 and Mr. Varing is not in trate, t'at make t'e 
 tifference." 
 
 " So much the more shame to him ! " Luya said, 
 spiritedly, " since he is willing to make money by a 
 means he pretends to despise, as if the law were 
 any more respectable than merchantry, or, indeed, 
 were half as respectable! But mother is right," 
 starting up with energy and pushing Hendrik 
 brusquely out of her way, "and I intend to show 
 Mr. Waring, stiff-necked and proud as he is, that 
 the Vanbergens are not to be pished at ! " 
 
 "Ja, t'at right!" Mr. Vanbergen nodded in ap- 
 proval, a hopeful smile creeping over his lips. " You 
 mean t'at you vill marry Jacob ? " 
 
1 66 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " No," Luya replied, standing in front of her 
 father, and addressing him in a dictatorial style 
 that admitted of no contradiction. " I mean that 
 we are going to turn over a new leaf." She began 
 assisting with the table preparations. " We are 
 going to live as befits our fortune. You are to 
 take the position to which you are entitled as one 
 of the richest citizens, whose ancestors used to rule 
 in New Amsterdam, and in New York, too ! You 
 shall set about getting one of the offices you have 
 always refused. You shall be mayor, or chamber- 
 lain, or sheriff, or, at least, alderman. You are to 
 have position with authority. And you are going 
 to enlarge your business ; but you are to do it with 
 your own money and not with any other body's. 
 The first thing you shall do to-morrow is to tell Mr. 
 Waring that you can have no further business rela- 
 tions with him, and close up accounts. Then, after- 
 ward, you are to oppose and work against him in 
 every way you can. If he goes into business with 
 any one else, you will do all you can to cripple him. 
 If you can ruin him, so much the better. Evert 
 Vanbergen is said to be the shrewdest trader in 
 New York. We'll let Mr. Waring find that out in 
 a new way. We'll see, then, what he will have to 
 say about ' practical interests ' and ' family considera- 
 tions/ " 
 
 During this vigorous tirade, the delivery of which 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 167 
 
 was emphasised by the force with which articles 
 were put down, or chairs were set in .place, Mr. Van- 
 bergen's countenance underwent most of the changes 
 of expression to which it was adapted. Bewilder- 
 ment, consternation, stupefaction, were the degrees 
 of his mental excitation, and when Luya had finished 
 he was only equal to murmuring, from the chair into 
 which he had sunk on the talk of ousting Waring 
 from the business : 
 
 " T'e girl is mat ! " 
 
 "Not in the least mad, papa, but come at last 
 to my senses. I find it ridiculous that we should 
 go on in the fashion of my Dutch grandfathers, when 
 the rest of the world is not so minded, and I mean 
 that we shall do as our rich neighbours are doing. 
 There are to be more servants in the house. My 
 mother shall set up her drawing-room, where she 
 may do needlework at her leisure, with no more care 
 of the house than to govern the domestics. I mean 
 to have my chair as well as Miss Boylston has hers, 
 with not an inch of gilding the less ; and you shall 
 fetch, in your next ship from England, as handsome 
 a carriage for my mother as that of the French 
 drawing I have in my room. And I'll have my 
 gowns from London, too, though I dare say they will 
 be no more to look at than the ones mamma and 
 I have made from the plates ; but 'twill sound the 
 better in the telling. In brief, papa, I choose to 
 
1 68 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 remember that my mother is a gentlewoman, and 
 I shall have the air of a gentlewoman's daughter, 
 which I shall wear the easier for my father's wealth. 
 I mean to show the town that peacocks are not the 
 only birds with handsome feathers. But let us begin 
 by eating our dinner. Come, Hendrik, dear, I know 
 you are staived. And we'll drink this bottle of old 
 Madeira that was brought up for Mr. Waring' s 
 benefit, but waste no drop of it in drinking his 
 health." 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen took his place at the table with 
 a sigh, holding up his hand in the way of a suppliant 
 who knows that he supplicates in vain. 
 
 "It is not olt Varing she is going to ruin, vife; 
 it's me." 
 
 The evolution began next day ; for Mr. Vanbergen 
 was as little inclined to oppose a serious wish of 
 Luya's as he was to defy a law of nature. He 
 accepted the doctrine of St. Paul, that "the chil- 
 dren ought not to lay up for the parents, but the 
 parents for the children," and he drew from it the 
 logical inference that whatever the parents have laid 
 up must be unreservedly at the disposition of the 
 children. In ordering his affairs according to her 
 pleasure, Luya was but working her will with her 
 own ; so Mr. Vanbergen called upon Mr. Waring at 
 his house in prompt obedience to her decree. He 
 wasted no words in preliminaries. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 169 
 
 " I haf come to say t'at we must settle up our 
 pusiness at once, Mr. Varing, ant pring the partner- 
 ship to an ent." 
 
 Mr. Waring looked at him blankly, not certain 
 that Mr. Vanbergen realised what he was saying. 
 
 " Why do you say that, Vanbergen ? " he 
 demanded. 
 
 "Pecause," Mr. Vanbergen replied, innocently, 
 "my taughter haf tolt me to." 
 
 Mr. Waring's laughter did not. -usually rise above 
 a decorously modulated gurgle, though sometimes his 
 alert sense of the grotesque in the ideas of others 
 betrayed his reserve. He went beyond the rule in 
 the present instance, his merriment being the more 
 immoderate because of the bewilderment with which 
 Mr. Vanbergen regarded him. 
 
 " Forgive me, Vanbergen, but I'm damned if I've 
 heard anything so laughably ridiculous ! 'Tis to 
 please Miss Luya, then, that you come to cut 
 in half your business this fine morning ? Come, 
 then, let us laugh it over." 
 
 But Mr. Waring ceased to find the idea laughable, 
 and at last was even forced into losing his temper by 
 the calm insistence of Mr. Vanbergen that his daugh- 
 ter's wish must serve as an answer to any and every 
 argument. Finally, in his exasperation, he kicked a 
 hassock across the room, exclaiming, impatiently : 
 
 " You are a fool, Vanbergen ! " 
 
I/O IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "Veil, Mr. Varing, I ton't alvays tell people vat 
 I t'ink of t'em, ant I ton't keep account of vat t'ey 
 t'ink of me. Two men haf two vays. My vay is to 
 mint my own pusiness petter as somepoty else can 
 mint it for me. Goot tay, Mr. Varing. I vill trouple 
 you to step into t'e counting-room to-morrow ant sign 
 some receipts." 
 
 He bowed, starting to take his leave, but turned 
 back, with a broad, deep-humoured smile. 
 
 " I'll gif you a leetle atvices. If you vant to keep 
 your hant in pusiness, t'ere is Nick Harmsen as voult 
 like to haf more money to trate vit." 
 
 When Mr. Vanbergen had bowed himself out, the 
 smile on his lips expanded until it joined with the 
 curved lines of his double chin and furrowed into 
 them. 
 
 " If he voult go in vit Harmsen, I coult leat him 
 into tight places, pecause Nick Harmsen alvays toes 
 vat he t'inks I'm going to to! Veil, veil, t'at voult 
 pe a kluchtspel ! " 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IT is an axiom of gentlemen who have had the 
 experience that nothing will so soon correct a bad 
 temper or spoil a good one as the contrarieties of 
 the card-table. As the most ill-natured person cannot 
 resist the blandishments of luck, which he invaria- 
 bly attributes to his own excellence of skill at play, 
 so the best-humoured man in the world will lose 
 some of his mirth if the cards hold spiteful to the 
 hurt of his fortunes. 
 
 When Wallace Waring strode away in fine dudg- 
 eon from his futile efforts to persuade Luya to his 
 way of thinking, he was in the very mood to flout 
 at every instrument of fate but the bottle and the 
 card-table. The world is never more like a ragged 
 football than when a perverse young lady has set 
 one's mental optics askew, and the disposition to 
 kick out viciously is sometimes indulged so blindly 
 that the kicker is well beyond the confines of life 
 before he is aware of his folly. The resort to the 
 card-table and the cheerful spirit of the vine, instead 
 of to the river or a willow branch, must argue a cer- 
 tain force of character worthy to be commended; 
 
 171 
 
1/2 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 and the directness with which Wallace made for the 
 Black Horse Inn proved that his was not a vacillat- 
 ing soul, at least. 
 
 He ordered Mr. Todd, the tavern-keeper, to serve 
 him a private dinner in the back parlour, and furnish 
 him writing-materials with which to kill the tedium 
 of waiting. He eased his mind in some pages of 
 fantastically polite cynicism, which was calculated at 
 once to wring the heart and humble the pride of the 
 recipient, and sent it post-haste to Miss Vanbergen. 
 His dinner being served, he ate with the sharper 
 appetite for the savage pleasure he felt in the mental 
 picture of Luya in tears over his masterpiece of 
 upbraiding. But, hunger appeased, and the civilised 
 man having some chance to be heard against the 
 natural man, some pricks of conscience urged him to 
 write a penitent retraction ; but, recognising in this 
 inclination a weakness that would give the young 
 lady too great an advantage over him in future 
 emergencies, he proceeded to the highly commend- 
 able office of drowning remorse in its favourite liquid. 
 The wine becoming a counsellor after a half dozen 
 preparatory glasses, Wallace summoned Mr. Todd, 
 and desired to know of him if there were a comfort- 
 able and well-appointed room in the house that could 
 be put to his permanent use, declaring that he had 
 a mind to try for a time the merits of a tavern 
 domicile. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 173 
 
 "I hope, sir," ventured Mr. Todd, whose great 
 respect for the elder Waring made him solicitous, 
 " there is no reason why you should quit your home.'* 
 
 " And what if there were, Todd ? Would the price 
 of your room be any the less welcome ? Gad, man, 
 learn not to be inquisitive, or do you fear that I 
 shall lack the means to pay you ? " 
 
 " Lord bless you, Mr. Waring, I think you know 
 me better. 'Twas my love of your father, and no 
 fear of his son, that bade me ask the question." 
 
 "Then let some little of your love be my servant, 
 Todd, and pick me out such a room as I may care to 
 sleep in when I find time for sleeping. And, Todd, 
 if the villain you sent with the letter I writ but now 
 come with an answer to it, I hope you know what is 
 proper should be done with it." 
 
 "You shall have it directly, sir. Will you wait 
 here, or are you of a mind to join the gentlemen 
 up-stairs ? " 
 
 " Are they met already, Todd ? " 
 
 " You have spent a good time at dinner, sir. 'Tis 
 past four o'clock." 
 
 Wallace chose to join the gentlemen up-stairs, the 
 party at the tables including, as usual, Lieutenant 
 Willett, Philip Ashton, and Allen Bradford, who 
 welcomed him to a place in their corner. The pas- 
 sion for gambling was the more sedulously cultivated 
 for the reason that other exciting means to the em- 
 
1/4 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 ployment of high spirits were few and of much 
 inferior interest. It was so much the occupation of 
 the select society which scorned to be connected with 
 trade, that the ladies of the fashionable circles were 
 but less inveterate players than the gentlemen, and 
 to have lost prodigiously was so much a virtue in the 
 drawing-room code of gallantries that a young gen- 
 tleman who squandered his estate at a sitting was the 
 hero of the ladies and the envy of the gentlemen for 
 near a twelvemonth after. This being the familiar 
 spirit of play, Wallace was not like to lay his stakes 
 any the more guardedly than common because of his 
 mind's rebellion against the malice of man in general 
 and woman in particular. The more steadily luck 
 went against him, the more he became convinced 
 that it was necessary to show himself defiant of the 
 whips and scorns of conspiring fatalities ; and when, 
 at midnight, the session was adjourned, under Mr. 
 Todd's regulations, he had a sort of grim satisfaction 
 in the hazy consciousness that he owed Lieutenant 
 Willett something better than a thousand pounds, 
 which his father would have to pay. This was a 
 pinch of revenge to sweeten his heavy dreams. 
 
 At a reasonably early hour the next forenoon 
 Wallace went to have an interview with his father, 
 arriving while that gentleman was still ruffled from 
 his unpleasant scene with Mr. Vanbergen. Wallace 
 came into the library, where his father was soothing 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 175 
 
 himself with one of Brantome's quaint French dis- 
 courses on feminine gallantry, a favourite means 
 with him of restoring his temper to a complacent 
 poise. 
 
 Mr. Waring looked up from his book and nodded, 
 smiling a little dryly. 
 
 " I had not thought to have the honour of seeing 
 you so soon. Have you fallen into difficulties ? " 
 
 " You bring me sharply to the point, sir." 
 
 " What is the amount ? " 
 
 " A thousand pounds one way or the other, sir." 
 
 " And to whom do you owe it ? " 
 
 Lieutenant Willett." 
 
 "Umph! Your rival." 
 
 " My rival, sir ? In what fashion, pray ? " 
 
 "In paying his addresses to Miss Boylston." 
 
 "Then, sir, I bid him Godspeed with all my 
 heart, and have a cordial wish to keep him on his 
 journey." 
 
 " Are you worth a thousand pounds ? " 
 
 "If not put to a forced sale, the niggers and 
 horses I have might fetch as much. But I hope not 
 to be to the inconvenience of parting with them." 
 
 " Then I do not see by what means you are to pay 
 Lieutenant Willett." 
 
 Wallace started in astonishment. 
 
 " Do I understand, sir, that you will not meet this 
 obligation ? " 
 
176 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Why should I ? Tis none of mine." 
 
 " But 'tis mine, sir, which comes to the same 
 thing, as you have taught me to believe." 
 
 " Under the right conditions," Mr. Waring as- 
 sented, turning his book down on his knees and 
 leaning back in his chair, the tips of his fingers 
 brought together philosophically. " In all relations 
 there must be equivalent values. My purse is always 
 open to my son ; but my son is not so many feet of 
 flesh and blood, merely. What is termed the natural 
 bond of union has very little force with me, my dear 
 Wallace ; in fact, I doubt that I give it an important 
 place in my theory of human alliances. That seems 
 to shock you. That is because you have not medi- 
 tated the subject. I can set you on the right track 
 in a word. You will admit that a man may be a 
 father without knowing it. If, after some years, he 
 should encounter the child, still being in ignorance 
 of the fact that he had a child, do you imagine the 
 natural bond would be strong enough to inform him 
 of his paternity ? " 
 
 "I think your illustration is very foreign to the 
 matter, sir, since you cannot profess to be in igno- 
 rance of your responsibility in my case." 
 
 " The illustration is not so irrelevant as you seem 
 to imagine ; but I perceive that you are impatient. 
 I shall put the point differently. The real bond of 
 union between individuals is moral, that is to say, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK, 1 77 
 
 it has to do with conditions of the mind and heart. 
 Parents love their children and children their parents, 
 not because of the begetting, but because of the 
 affection developed by association and by the thou- 
 sand considerations of attachment by dependence. 
 Interrupt these relations by protracted separations, 
 and the so-called natural bond will cease to be opera- 
 tive. The alliance is then a moral one entirely. 
 Break the moral tie, and the nearest kindred are 
 no more to each other than any of the other un- 
 related factors of the body social. Two men who 
 are brought together by common interests and 
 agreed sentiments may be much more closely united 
 in affection than a father and son whose interests are 
 widely different. Do you follow me ? " 
 
 "I understand your argument, but I am not so 
 fortunate as to see its application." 
 
 " This is the application. As you are a handsome 
 fellow, with the appearance becoming a gentleman, 
 I have a reasonable pride in the knowledge that I am 
 your father. But the interest, I need not hesitate 
 to use a stronger word, the love I have for you as 
 my son is of a twofold character : first, you have 
 been the dependent object of my care for more than 
 twenty-five years, and that in itself would create a 
 strong feeling of attachment to you; second, you 
 have been the subject of my ambitious dreams since 
 a broken health made it impossible for me to con- 
 
178 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 tinue in the way of ambition I had marked out for 
 myself. If you cease to be dependent on me, you 
 impair one of the bonds of attachment ; if you refuse 
 to meet my expectations with regard to your future, 
 you weaken the second of those bonds. The result 
 would be that I should cease to regard you as a 
 son and be very apt to forget even that you are my 
 offspring." 
 
 "Well, sir?" Wallace asked, after some moments 
 of silence. 
 
 " I suppose you have definitely settled with Miss 
 Vanbergen as to your marriage with her ? " 
 
 "I am sorry to be obliged to admit that the 
 young lady will not have me without your con- 
 sent." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Mr. Waring, brightening, and chang- 
 ing his position into one of less severity of angle. 
 "Then matters have not gone as far as I feared. 
 Come, Wallace, things are not so bad. So ! So ! 
 She is not for marrying a beggar, after all ! I 
 thought it was out of nature that the young minx 
 should take you without a penny. Twas not like 
 her father's breed." 
 
 " Father ! " roared Wallace, springing to his feet. 
 
 " Good God ! " said Mr. Waring, nervously, not a 
 little startled by the outburst. "Be not so vehe- 
 ment, my dear Wallace ! What brings you to your 
 feet so suddenly ? " 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 179 
 
 " Sir, I'll not hear Miss Vanbergen ill-spoken of, 
 even though it be by you ! " 
 
 " Nor shall you, for I've no thought to speak of 
 her at all. Sit down." 
 
 " But I desire that you do speak of her, though 
 in the manner I would have you speak of the lady 
 I hope to have for my wife. I was much in the 
 wrong to offend you as I fear I did on yesterday ; 
 but, sir, I dare say you can make allowance for a heat 
 into which I was surprised by an opposition you can- 
 not have meant to push to an extremity, had I been 
 better guarded. I most sincerely crave your pardon. 
 I hope, sir, you have never found me ungrateful nor 
 unmindful of the duties that a loyal son owes to an 
 indulgent father, and I hope more worthily to com- 
 mand your approbation. Help me to the occasion by 
 giving your consent to a marriage that I shall make 
 the means to the gratification of your hopes in me. 
 Let me have the woman that I love, and you shall 
 command me to any after course that your judgment 
 shall dictate. She will do you as much honour as 
 your daughter as the lady you prefer to her; and 
 if you object that her father is not in all respects 
 what you would have him, the objection is not so 
 weighty that it need keep me from a wife fit to adorn 
 any society into which I'm likely to have the right to 
 introduce her. Give me your consent, without which 
 I cannot have her, for she has as stubborn a pride as 
 
180 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 your own, and you may shut your purse against me 
 from that moment. I dare believe I have the wit 
 to keep a wife that fortune puts into my care. 
 Make what terms with me you please, if you but 
 give your consent. Well, father? What do you 
 answer?" 
 
 " I am more than twice your age, Wallace. I don't 
 speak from impulse. My judgments are carefully 
 made up, after a thorough consideration of the ques- 
 tions. I know the world better than you do. I see 
 clearer than you what are a young man's best oppor- 
 tunities. I have planned a way for you to thrive in. 
 Boylston is a trusted financial agent of the Crown, 
 and has a certain influence in court circles. That is 
 my answer." 
 
 " You will not consent to my marriage with Miss 
 Vanbergen ? " 
 
 No." 
 
 Wallace took up his hat, his face pale, his lips 
 compressed tightly, as if to keep back an unseemly 
 violence, and went toward the door with very credit- 
 able dignity. Then he turned about, and looked 
 steadily at his father for some seconds, the eyes of 
 the two men having much the same expression 
 in them, a mingling of defiance and regret not 
 at all easy to describe. 
 
 "You have brought me up," Wallace said, at 
 length, " to Ji^ve my own way, only that you might 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. l8l 
 
 put me under the screw in the most serious interest 
 of my life. You have been preparing me all these 
 years to play as a hazard in your schemes of ambi- 
 tion, and you would dice with my heart now to flatter 
 your vanity. Well, sir, I may tell you for your 
 instruction that I will marry a bawd who pleases 
 me rather than take the perfected model of her sex 
 on compulsion. Since the condition of my remain- 
 ing your son is my submission to your will in the 
 choice of my wife, I have the honour, sir, to bid you 
 good day and farewell." 
 
 Wallace bowed very profoundly, and, without 
 waiting to be answered, quitted the room. 
 
 Mr. Waring took up his Brantdme and went on 
 reading. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 OWING to the fact that the band from the Fort 
 was to give one of its infrequent concerts from the 
 extemporised platform near the bowling-green, the 
 Parade was more than ordinarily democratic, and, for 
 the reason, more pictorial this afternoon. Fashion 
 came for. its indolent promenade and lively gossip, 
 but the humbler sort of folk, especially the rustics 
 from the upper village, were gathered in numbers 
 from sheer delight in the military music. The 
 crowd found additional entertainment, too, in a 
 variety of sports in the immediate neighbourhood 
 of the Fort, there being lusty youths and burly 
 young men, representatives of agriculture and com- 
 merce, as well as stalwart fellows from the ships, 
 who vied with one another in lifting or pulling 
 weights, in jumping and wrestling, in running and 
 vaulting, to the admiration of the buxom young 
 women who were not above bestowing a kiss upon 
 the swain who proved the greater prowess. Nor 
 did the quiet game of bowls want for champions, 
 it being esteemed by some excellent defenders the 
 
 182 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 183 
 
 prettiest pastime for a tranquil spirit that the in- 
 genuity of man has contrived for his recreation. The 
 promenade was now generally confined to the upper 
 end of the Parade, in the mall overarched with trees ; 
 but the beaus and ladies found a pleasure on these 
 rare occasions in extending their walk to overlook 
 the sports, because, in that wise, they could have the 
 agreeable excitement of laying wagers upon contend- 
 ing sides, the ladies being more eager than the gen- 
 tlemen to risk their guineas, and not in the least 
 disposed to suffer the indignity of polite concessions 
 to their sex in the matter of chances. They backed 
 their judgments with enthusiasm, and asked no favour 
 of any one, parting with their money with as light 
 a hand and as cheery a countenance as they might 
 have thrown table crumbs to the robins. It was the 
 practice of the light world to be gay, and as a gen- 
 tleman of the mode could not afford to be seen 
 abroad without his sword, or a lady of fashion with- 
 out her snuff-box, so it was impossible the two should 
 meet where the occasion allowed without laying a 
 wager, not, truly, of a magnitude to cripple the los- 
 ing purse, but large enough to make an afternoon's 
 idling hour some degrees more pleasurable. 
 
 The reverend gentlemen who thundered anathemas 
 from the pulpit against the growing vice of tea- 
 drinking, and predicted for its devotees every sort of 
 physical ill in addition to the moral decay, were much 
 
1 84 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 milder in their rebuke of the prevalent taste for 
 gambling, so that piety itself did not scruple to set 
 a trifling money value on its opinions which of two 
 bowlers would have the larger score. 
 
 Wallace Waring came late upon the scene, because 
 of the delay to which he had been put in the quest 
 of a purchaser of the negroes and horses he wished 
 to convert into cash. There was not a pressing 
 demand for negroes at the time, for the reason that 
 the worthy citizens were not yet entirely free from 
 the fears and apprehensions aroused four years ago, 
 when half a hundred negroes were burned, hanged, 
 and otherwise put out of existence before it was 
 discovered that there really had been no organised 
 conspiracy to massacre the whites, as was generally 
 believed. Wallace came from the Exchange with 
 his human chattels unsold, troubled by a certain 
 anxiety that the sun might go down on his debt 
 to Lieutenant Willett undischarged. It was an awk- 
 ward position for a sensitive gentleman, since to 
 have gambled in excess of his ability to pay con- 
 stituted an offence against society more heinous 
 than the fracture of any half-dozen articles of the 
 decalogue. It was not his nature, however, to con- 
 fess judgment by fall of countenance, and he moved 
 through the groups of people, bowing and chatting 
 right and left, as he passed or encountered friends 
 of either sex, with as assured an air as if his cheque 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 185 
 
 were exchangeable for the total deposits in the 
 Boylston bank. 
 
 He found it more difficult, however, to dissemble 
 the emotions produced by the vision of Miss Van- 
 bergen, more radiant in satin and laces than he had 
 ever seen her, and as abandoned to levity as if love's 
 disasters were the very source and origin of life's 
 contentment. He tormented himself by avoiding her, 
 imagining that he was thus rebuking her disregard 
 of the letter he had sent her from the hotel. The 
 better to make it appear that he was in no haste 
 to condone her misconduct, he devoted himself with 
 a great show of satisfaction to the entertainment of 
 Miss Boylston, spending more time by her side than 
 proper civility to other ladies would have allowed him. 
 When at last he came upon Miss Vanbergen, he gave 
 the meeting the appearance of an accident. Never- 
 theless, he managed to disengage her from the others 
 very soon, and, forgetting under the irritation of her 
 smiles and vivacity that he was to play the rdle of 
 indifference, fell promptly to upbraiding her heart- 
 lessness. 
 
 "My letter did not touch you, then, it seems, 
 madam ? " 
 
 "Your letter! Why, I thought it an accusation 
 drawn against some confirmed misdemeanant and 
 sent to me in error ! I read but the first half-dozen 
 lines and clapped it into the fire, or, if I read it 
 
1 86 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 through and after forgot to burn it the consequence 
 was the same, for my mind has not so much as a 
 trace of it. What' did you say ? " 
 
 "I said that you are the most cruelly unjust 
 of women that ever pretended to love ; and that your 
 excuse not to have me because my father mistakes 
 his authority is but the admission that you had no 
 serious thought of me at all." 
 
 "Yes," Miss Vanbergen answered, meditatively, 
 seeming to be making a mental effort to reconstruct 
 the letter, " I think I remember something to that 
 effect, but more feelingly put. And was there not, 
 also, a clause to release the guilty woman from fur- 
 ther responsibility to her accuser ? It seems to me 
 I have a recollection of the words, * You are free, 
 madam, to go your way after him who may be better 
 worth your having, since I should scorn to hold 
 you to a promise given with so little courage to its 
 keeping'!" 
 
 " There was no such thing in the letter, Luya ! " 
 
 " I'll send it to you for your reading. There may 
 be other items in it you would wish to memorise. 
 You may have occasion to make use of them to some 
 other ladies of your acquaintance." 
 
 "Luya, don't treat the matter lightly! Why 
 should you punish me for my father's fault ? " 
 
 "Why should your father punish me for my 
 father's virtues ? " she began, laughingly, but her 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. l8/ 
 
 manner abruptly changed, and she took his arm. 
 " Wallace, I'll answer what you said in your letter, 
 brutal though it was, and resolved as I was never to 
 answer it. I do love you, enough to sacrifice every- 
 thing for you, but I love you too well to let you 
 sacrifice yourself. I know you well enough. You 
 are too proud to let me help you. If you should 
 marry me without your father's consent, it would 
 mean a life of struggle for you, for you would not 
 let it be said that her father's money was your wife's 
 support and yours. I shouldn't mind the struggle 
 for myself, I should love to be your helpmeet in 
 whatever way we might begin, but I could not 
 bear to have it said that I had dragged you down, 
 that your love for me had robbed you of the advan- 
 tages your father's wealth and influence would have 
 accorded you." 
 
 " Good heaven, Luya ! you talk as if I were with- 
 out any sort of ability to make my way in the 
 world." 
 
 " What could you do ? " 
 
 "Anything I have the will to undertake." 
 
 " Make the beginning. We are young. There is 
 no haste. I will wait for you. And then, if you 
 should change your mind " 
 
 " I'll never do that. I shall love you to the end 
 of my days." 
 
 " And trust me ? " 
 
1 88 IN OLD__NEW YORK. 
 
 " How can you ask the question ? " 
 
 "Because I have a letter of yours in the house 
 that " 
 
 "Burn it, sweetheart ; 'twas writ by a madman." 
 
 Allen Bradford approached them, saluting Miss 
 Vanbergen with the air of a privileged friend, for 
 Bradford was in the secret of her tender relations 
 with Wallace, though not yet aware of the unfavour- 
 able turn in the course of love. As they strolled on 
 together, exchanging those trifles of artful common- 
 place which fall from the conversation of the friend- 
 liest trio when two of them are lovers, Wallace saw 
 Lieutenant Willett in the act of taking leave of Miss 
 Boylston. 
 
 " I have need to speak with Lieutenant Willett," 
 he said, excusing himself, and hastening to join the 
 lieutenant, whom he overtook at the green, where 
 Jacob was bowling with three or four of his farmer 
 friends. 
 
 " May I have a word with you, lieutenant ? " 
 
 " A dozen of them, Waring ; though I swear you 
 don't look as if they were to be merry ones." 
 
 "They are not, lieutenant, and I'm damnably 
 embarrassed how to choose them." 
 
 They paused by an isolated bench, in view of the 
 players but out of their hearing ; though, for the 
 matter of that, Wallace cared little enough who 
 might hear what he believed to be a frank and manly 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 189 
 
 avowal of difficulties he had no reason to think dis- 
 creditable to his honour. In 'a day or two, at most, 
 the town at large would know that he had fallen 
 upon his own resources. 
 
 " 'Tis about the thousand pounds I lost to you." 
 
 " Well, what of them ? " the lieutenant asked, with 
 a smile that betrayed a suspicion of the facts. 
 
 " I must confess that I haven't the present means 
 of paying them, unless you will take in their place a 
 parcel of niggers and some riding stock that make up 
 my fortune." 
 
 The lieutenant put one foot on the bench and 
 leaned his elbow on his knee. 
 
 " I'm not in trade, you know, Waring." 
 
 The lieutenant, who imagined Wallace a formidable 
 rival to the hand of Miss Boylston, which he was of 
 a purpose to have for himself, was rather pleased 
 to have his thousand pounds so advantageously 
 invested. 
 
 "I offer them," said Wallace, "to your acceptance 
 as a sort of surety, and shall be most willing to con- 
 stitute myself your agent to turn them into cash." 
 
 "It were simpler," said the lieutenant, with that 
 excess of politeness which is akin to insolence, " to 
 ask me to give you time in which to pay your debt. 
 I doubt if your cattle will fetch the amount. I 
 think I may as profitably take your word as your 
 niggers." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " I hope you lay no question on my word, Lieu- 
 tenant Willett ? " 
 
 " None, none in the least. Still, 'tis a new experi- 
 ence with me to play with a gentleman who pushes 
 his credit so much beyond " 
 
 " Lieutenant Willett ! " 
 
 " Am I not keeping well within my privilege, Mr. 
 Waring ? You have lost a thousand pounds to me, 
 which you confess you cannot pay. You would force 
 upon me some heads of live stock which I do not 
 choose to accept. In both of these respects you are 
 irregular. If you have a second proposition, I shall 
 be glad to hear it." 
 
 " I have no second proposition." 
 
 "Then I am to understand " 
 
 " What you please, Lieutenant Willett." 
 
 The lieutenant took down his foot from the bench, 
 and, on the point of going, said, negligently setting 
 his ruffles aright : 
 
 " I think I remember, Mr. Waring, that you thought 
 it improper that Mr. Vinton Spencer should wear a 
 sword after his irregular way of trying to save his 
 money " 
 
 Wallace struck his glove so smartly into the lieu- 
 tenant's face that the imprint of the leather was left 
 on his cheek. 
 
 Jacob happened to be looking in the direction and 
 saw the blow, which no one else had noticed, and he 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. IQI 
 
 moved forward a little to see the result of it. The 
 lieutenant made no movement that Jacob could detect. 
 As far as appearances went, he received the indignity 
 with undisturbed composure, or, rather, as if he were 
 wholly insensible to it. But Jacob was not in a posi- 
 tion to see the lieutenant's eyes. There was action 
 enough in them. 
 
 " Your situation, Mr. Waring," the lieutenant said, 
 after a moment's hesitation, " makes it impossible to 
 decide whether I can regard this as an insult or must 
 treat it as an assault. If you have not redeemed 
 your word before ten o'clock to-morrow morning, I 
 shall look upon you as a blackguard, and horsewhip 
 you at the first occasion." 
 
 He turned without bowing, and walked away, leav- 
 ing Wallace in that raging, chagrined, and baffled 
 state of mind which lends itself willingly to any 
 thought of desperate revenge. The only important 
 purpose of life with him now was to get, by any 
 means that offered, a thousand pounds to fling into 
 Willett's teeth, and therewith purchase the preroga- 
 tive of boring a hole through his heart. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 JACOB had come near enough to hear the words 
 " horsewhip you at the first occasion," and to note 
 the pallor of Waring's face as the effect of them. 
 The words stung him like a lash of scorpions. His 
 heart bounded under them. He would have liked to 
 take the throat that uttered them in his strong grip 
 and throttle it ; not out of sympathy with Wallace, 
 he was not thinking of him, but for Luya's sake. 
 He looked about him fearful that she, too, might have 
 been near enough to hear. It seemed to him a mon- 
 strous thing that here, in this public place, where all 
 the world might see and hear, the man whom Luya 
 loved should be so infamously threatened, and should 
 stand there impotent under the disgrace. 
 
 He watched Wallace go away, avoiding the crowd, 
 and read in his face the writhing of the humiliated 
 spirit. It seemed to him that the speed at which 
 Wallace hurried along was due to his efforts to es- 
 cape the whip already cutting about his shoulders, 
 with Luya looking on, shame staining her cheeks, 
 horror in her eyes. Unconsciously, he started to 
 follow in the direction taken by Lieutenant Willett, a 
 
 192 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 193 
 
 disordered purpose in his mind, to warn that officer 
 how perilous it would be to him to put infamy on 
 Waring. But, as he walked, his ideas became more 
 coherent. He reasoned by degrees to the under- 
 standing that the thing to do was not to restrain 
 Willett, but to protect Waring. Wallace had been 
 addressed as if he had forfeited the right to be treated 
 as a gentleman. What had he done ? He suddenly 
 remembered some talk he had heard of the uncom- 
 monly reckless play at the tavern the night before, 
 in which Wallace had lost an extravagant sum. 
 What if it had to do with that ? Nothing was more 
 probable. He would find out. 
 
 He made inquiries after Wallace, and learned 
 that he had gone toward the. inn, where he followed, 
 arriving but a few minutes later. Wallace had gone 
 to his room, and sent down word, in answer to Jacob's 
 request to see him that he was not at leisure. Jacob 
 went up the stairs on his own account, and rapped 
 at the door. 
 
 "Who is there?" 
 
 "Wilbruch." 
 
 " I sent word that I could not see you." 
 
 " So they told me, but I must see you." 
 
 " Come in the evening, then." 
 
 " I wish to see you now." 
 
 " You have an unmannerly persistence, Mr. Wil- 
 bruch," Wallace said, opening the door and admit- 
 
194 W OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 ting his determined visitor. " I hope the occasion 
 of your coming may excuse you." 
 
 " It will, if your honour is important to you." 
 
 " What the devil do you mean, Wilbruch ? Have 
 a care of what words you use if we are to talk on 
 friendly terms." 
 
 " Are you in Lieutenant Willett's debt ? " 
 
 "What concern is that of yours? Gad, Mr. 
 Wilbruch, if you have come to a quarrel with me, 
 you will find me in the easiest humour to oblige you*" 
 
 " I have not come to a quarrel with you. But 
 Lieutenant Willett has threatened you in a way that 
 one gentleman does not threaten another unless there 
 is a fault somewhere." 
 
 "And you think?" 
 
 "I think you have lost money to the lieutenant 
 that you are unable to pay." 
 
 Wallace folded his arms and, with a narrowing 
 of the eyes that indicated anything but a pacific 
 spirit, demanded between his teeth : 
 
 " And suppose it were so, Mr. Wilbruch ? " 
 
 "You must pay him." 
 
 Wallace laughed. It seemed to him fantastic that 
 this great simpleton should be enjoining him in this 
 solemn fashion to do that which his brain was riotous 
 to have done. 
 
 "Teach me the art of turning water into wine, 
 Mr. Wilbruch, and I'll drink ten fiddlers drunk with 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 195 
 
 you ! Devil take it, man ! Do you think I need 
 to be enlightened by you or any man in what con- 
 cerns my honour ? I'm willing to allow you came to 
 comfort and not to vex me, and I beg your pardon 
 if I've been too rude ; but I have reason to wish the 
 room to myself, and I hope you will not take it 
 unkindly that I offer to show you out." Wallace 
 went to open the door as he spoke. 
 
 Jacob crossed the room to a table on which were 
 writing-materials, and sat down. Wallace regarded 
 him with an angry astonishment. 
 
 " What is the amount of your debt to Lieutenant 
 Willett ? " Jacob asked, taking up the pen and dip- 
 ping it into the ink. 
 
 Wallace suddenly conceived something of Jacob's 
 purpose. His anger vanished in the instant, and a 
 sense of embarrassment came in the place of it. 
 He felt guilty of having blustered. He hated the 
 feeling of contrition that his present realisation of 
 the situation was forcing on him. He came forward, 
 hesitatingly, reluctant to confess his weakness. 
 
 " Why the deuce do you ask ? " 
 
 " I want the figures." 
 
 " A thousand and fifty pounds, fifty-nine, to be 
 exact." 
 
 Jacob took a piece of paper to his liking, wrote 
 and signed a cheque for the amount named, took 
 a stamp from his pocket-book and applied it to a 
 
196 IN OLD NEW YORK:, 
 
 corner of the paper, and handed the now legally 
 current slip to Wallace. 
 
 " I can't take that," said Wallace. 
 
 "You must take it, and use it." 
 
 Wallace was more affected than he was willing 
 to have seen, and lounged toward the window that 
 overlooked the grounds, speaking with as much 
 lightness as he could command. 
 
 "It is devilish good of you, Wilbruch, to make the 
 offer, but if I were in the position to accept of it, 
 I should not be in the straits to need it. The cir- 
 cumstances that prevent my paying Willett make it 
 impossible for me to borrow from my friends ; for 
 I must tell you that I have quarrelled with my father 
 on such terms as put me from the service of his 
 purse. You would be throwing your money to a 
 beggar." 
 
 " That does not concern me," Jacob said. " I 
 give you the money without conditions." 
 
 " It is true," Wallace went on, " I have some 
 property that, under favourable sale, should fetch 
 within a little of the sum, and if you will take that 
 in security of the loan - 
 
 " I ask for no security. I am not making a bar- 
 gain with you." 
 
 "No," cried Wallace, turning about. "You are 
 a generous, noble fellow, heaping on me so great a 
 benefit that I am a rogue to try to hide my gratitude. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. IQ7 
 
 I am grateful, Wilbruch, profoundly grateful, for 
 you have saved me from something worse than I 
 dare say. There is not one man in ten thousand 
 would have done as much for a dearer friend, and 
 I shall hope to deserve a friendship I have not known 
 to appreciate." 
 
 He held out his hand, which Jacob took slowly. 
 
 " Yes, we are friends, Waring ; but I haven't done 
 this for you. I wasn't thinking of doing a friend a 
 service. I was only thinking of saving from disgrace 
 the man whom Luya loves." 
 
 Jacob's grave face had something in it that a 
 woman's eyes would have glistened to see there for 
 her sake, and when he had left the room Wallace 
 half wished that he owed his deliverance to another 
 man. 
 
 And, after Jacob had gone, Wallace drew from 
 the drawer of the table a folded paper, that he had 
 thrust there before letting Jacob in, and spread it 
 open. The name of Stephen Waring was many 
 times repeated on it, with such changes in the for- 
 mation of the letters as indicated an attempt to 
 arrive at a particular accuracy. Wallace seemed 
 to pale in regarding these curious repetitions, and 
 his head went down on his folded arms, and there 
 was a great sigh like a stifled sob. Presently he 
 struck a light to a candle, and held the paper in the 
 flame, watching it blacken and shrivel into ash. 
 
198 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "Thank God!" he said. 
 
 He blew out the candle, and returned to the desk. 
 He indorsed the cheque carefully, and wrote a note 
 to Lieutenant Willett : 
 
 "I have the honour to enclose a cheque for the amount 
 of my debt to you. If my messenger make proper haste, it 
 will arrive into your hands before the mark of my glove can 
 have faded from your cheek. I shall not quit the inn until 
 I have allowed time for your acknowledgments to reach me." 
 
 This note, with the cheque enclosed, was des- 
 patched to Lieutenant Willett by hand, and three 
 hours later Mr. Philip Ashton came with the lieu- 
 tenant's acknowledgments. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A BRISK canter in the early morning, over the 
 riverside road that led to Greenwich village and 
 beyond, was as -pretty a bit of experience as any 
 conscious horseman could have wished. The broad- 
 bosomed Hudson sweeping majestically down its 
 island reaches in the embrace of shore-lines hardly 
 yet molested in their virgin dignity, the near and 
 far beauties of shadow-dappled country just coming 
 to life under the rose and purple light, the smell of 
 earth sweetened by the dews of night, the matins 
 of birds yet drowsy from the nest, and the wide- 
 spread stillness over the human world, these, and 
 the thousand nameless charms that live and die with 
 the dawn, might have disposed the souls of Christian 
 gentlemen to peace and amity. 
 
 But the half-dozen gentlemen in parties of three 
 who rode the way this July morning had as little 
 countenance for the gaudery of nature as had the 
 cattle just rousing up to browse in the wayside pas- 
 tures. Their concern with the morning was to have 
 done with the business in hand before the sun rose 
 
 199 
 
200 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 high enough to trouble the eye glancing along the 
 barrel of a pistol. 
 
 It had given rise to some curious comment in the 
 course of the ride that two gentlemen so well skilled 
 in the use of the sword, undeniably the most genteel 
 weapon with which to decide a gentlemanly differ- 
 ence, should elect to hold their argument with 
 pointblank pistols. 
 
 " Deuce take it ! " said Ashton, complaimngly, to 
 Willett, "the most ruffianly, coarse-fibred rascal of 
 a fellow may hold a pistol as true to the mark as the 
 nicest gallant, and send a bullet as far into his ad- 
 versary ; but to play a sword with dexterity, and sur- 
 prise a guard in the very instant that will let your 
 point penetrate the spot picked out for the coup! 
 May the devil's dam fly away with me," he inter- 
 rupted himself to exclaim, "if I can make out 
 Waring' s reason for the choice ! " 
 
 " I suppose it makes little difference, Ashton, 
 whether 'tis a sword point or a pistol bullet that 
 gives a man his finish." 
 
 "The widest possible difference, Willett, to the 
 spectators. To see a gentleman fall, knocked over 
 by an ounce of lead from ten or twenty paces, is no 
 great matter, and reflects but little credit on the 
 other's skill ; and 'tis over while you are thinking 
 whether it is yet to begin. But my chief proof to 
 the vulgarity of the pistol and its im fitness to an 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 26 1 
 
 affair between gentlemen is in the awkward, slovenly 
 way in which a man tumbles to the ground under a 
 vital shot ; sprawling face downwards in the most 
 graceless posture conceivable, so that it were an 
 even guess whether he were dead or drunk. If 
 there is one time more than another when a gentle- 
 man owes it to himself and to the world to present 
 an irreproachable appearance, it is when he falls in 
 support of his honour." 
 
 " Gad, then I hope, Ashton, if I fall this morning, 
 I'll have the presence of mind to pose to your liking." 
 
 "Then I shall implore you to keep to your feet, 
 for you cannot fall in any way to my liking." 
 
 While this conversation was holding, Wallace, 
 Bradford, and the surgeon were riding in silence a 
 mile in advance, and presently reached the wooded 
 solitude designated for the meeting. 
 
 "Well, old fellow, is everything said?" Bradford 
 asked, after they had dismounted, putting a hand on 
 Wallace's shoulder. 
 
 "I think of nothing further." 
 
 " But you have said nothing of Miss Vanbergen." 
 
 " Because there is a packet in my pocket for her if 
 the worst happen." 
 
 "How do you feel?" 
 
 " Never in better spirit." 
 
 " And your nerves ? " 
 
 " I'll show you." 
 
202 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 Wallace took one of the empty pistols from the 
 case, cocked it, balanced a sixpence on the end of 
 the barrel, held the pistol horizontally at full arm's 
 length, and, after a moment, pulled the trigger. The 
 sixpence kept its place. 
 
 " I think you ought to be able to wing your man," 
 the surgeon said, with a broad smile. 
 
 " If your aim is as straight as your arm is steady," 
 Bradford concurred. 
 
 "When I was in France I kept my credit with the 
 peppery Parisians by spoiling louis thrown into the 
 air. But I'm out of practice since." 
 
 " Then I understand why you chose pistols instead 
 of swords," Bradford said, in a low tone, not to be 
 overheard by the surgeon, and, in spite of himself, a 
 tinge of reproach got into his tone. 
 
 Wallace took Bradford's arm and led him a little 
 aside. 
 
 " Your conclusion is wrong, Allen, but I'll set you 
 right. You will call me a sentimental fool, and try 
 to dissuade me. I did not choose pistols to have an 
 advantage over Willett ; I did it to give* him an equal 
 chance with myself." 
 
 " He is as good a swordsman as you are." 
 
 " Exactly, and would have given me so much 
 trouble to master him that my good resolutions 
 would have gone to pot in my excitement, and I 
 should have made my best to kill him, I'm much 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2O3 
 
 afraid, whereas my purpose is to do him no harm in 
 the least." 
 
 "What the deuce brings you here with such a 
 purpose as that ? " 
 
 " Love, Allen, love ! " 
 
 " Has love made you lunatic enough to set your- 
 self up as a mere target to a man who will hardly 
 appreciate your fine sentiments enough to aim above 
 your head ? " 
 
 "I had a lesson yesterday, Allen, that I'll repeat 
 to you one day, if I live to break a bottle of wine at a 
 private confessional ; but the moral of it was this : 
 * If there must be blood on the hand you hold out to 
 the woman you love, let it be blood shed entirely to 
 your honour.' ' 
 
 " What confounded riddle is this, Wallace ? " 
 
 " No riddle ; but I see myself so little in the right 
 that I have not malice enough against Willett to wish 
 to do him an injury. If I had been left to work out 
 my own salvation yesterday, I should have been in 
 the mood this morning to think his killing a proper 
 act of vengeance, but I should have been as rank a 
 scoundrel as any locked in the dark holes of the City 
 Hall. If a blow in an officer's face were an offence 
 to be wiped away with an apology, I should have 
 saved the lieutenant the trouble of rising so early. 
 But here are our men." 
 
 Bradford was inquisitively mystified, but this 
 
2O4 M OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 arrival of the others left him no opportunity to ask 
 for clearer information. The preparations for action 
 were immediately begun. 
 
 " Do you see what appears to be a stain in the puff 
 of Willett's shirt, at the side there?" Wallace asked 
 of Bradford, as the pistols were loading. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I'll put a bullet hole through that." 
 
 " How are you as a shot ? " Ashton had asked of 
 Willett. 
 
 " I can hit a man," the lieutenant replied, grimly. 
 
 And both gentlemen were as good as their words ; 
 for, whereas Mr. Waring sent his bullet neatly 
 through the puff of the lieutenant's shirt, the lieu- 
 tenant managed so well with his hitting that Mr. 
 Waring rode home with a perforation of the left 
 shoulder that retired him from the public for some- 
 thing more than a fortnight. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THOUGH Miss Vanbergen withdrew the demand 
 for a carriage of the French pattern, and continued 
 to be content with a hired chair when she felt the 
 need of other conveyance than her own sprightly 
 legs, she very seriously applied herself to the agree- 
 able task of setting the Vanbergen establishment 
 before society with its best foot forward. The 
 promptitude with which the dismemberment of the 
 " firm " was set in motion was but the prelude to 
 other decisive measures which made for the honour 
 of the family and the ease of its women, an important 
 item being the purchase of a comely young negress 
 to serve in the new office of maid-in-waiting to Luya 
 and incidentally to the household in general. The 
 restoration of the drawing-room to its original dig- 
 nity, with increased beauty of curtains at the window, 
 began the day following the rupture, visibly to the 
 discontent of Mr. Vanbergen, who was so well satis- 
 fied with knowing himself to be rich that he cared 
 not a stiver for the ignorance of the world on that 
 point. As for the matter of taking his proper place 
 in society by getting out of trade simplicity into mer- 
 
 205 
 
206 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 chant pride, his instincts were all for the tranquil 
 seclusion of the domestic sphere ; and he had so little 
 the spirit of pomposity which was supposed to be the 
 characteristic of the opulent of his race, that he 
 rather enjoyed the condescending affability of the 
 English merchants in their meetings at the Exchange. 
 Their assumption of superiority made him all the 
 more pleased to get the better of them in their rival 
 transactions, which he not infrequently did, having 
 so much more of the heredity and tradition of trade 
 in his mental make-up. He could see no profit or 
 advantage to be gained from a surrender at his time 
 of life to the pomps and vanities of circumstance, but 
 it was not for him to contend when Luya proposed. 
 Mrs. Vanbergen, too, had fallen without resistance 
 into the swirl of the revolutionary movement ; and, 
 though she refused to withhold her hand from the 
 housewife cares of the kitchen region, declaring she 
 would die of an indigestion if the cooking were left 
 to Marta, she yielded so freely in other directions 
 that she became, not only a staunch ally, but, in 
 certain emergencies, a willing pioneer. 
 
 Luya was resolved on giving a party as a challenge 
 to Miss Boylston and whatever other ladies who 
 might be of a mind to think twice before accepting 
 her invitation. Her preparatory step to this rather 
 serious adventure was to require of her father to bid 
 his fellow merchants to a sumptuous dinner, which 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2O? 
 
 should be served at one of the taverns. Fortune 
 came to her aid in this particular. Four privateers, 
 one of which was owned by Mr. Vanbergen, sailed 
 into the -bay, having in custody six French prizes, 
 and straightway the owners fell to those differences 
 over the distribution which were inevitable when cap- 
 tures were made by concerted action. The disputes 
 in such cases were settled by mutually chosen arbi- 
 ters, and justice was dealt out so even-handedly that 
 each party to the difference imagined the decision to 
 be just a flattering shade in his favour. But in this 
 instance Mr. Vanbergen had very much the best of 
 the settlement, for it turned out that one of the rich- 
 est of the prizes was really in the very act of striking 
 her colours to his guns when, attracted by the firing, 
 the ship that made the counter-claim came into range 
 and sent an entirely superfluous shot over the French- 
 man's bows. Though this " prize " addition to the 
 accounts prolonged his settlement with Mr. Waring, 
 Mr. Vanbergen did not the less regard the dinner to 
 the merchants as a most successful celebration of his 
 return to undivided sovereignty. He felt that this 
 dinner was a thing of which to be proud through a 
 long life, and was quite assured that by means of it 
 he had proved himself the compeer of any man whose 
 legs were ever sprawled under mahogany. It was 
 pleasant to him to remember, too, that the Lieutenant- 
 Governor, who, as one of the arbitrators of the dis- 
 
20 8 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 pute, had honoured the feast by his presence, had 
 derived so much understanding from the punch that 
 twice he leaned over from his plate to clap the host 
 over the shoulder, and declare him to be " one of the 
 corner-stones of the community, and a most amiable 
 and proper person by way of addition." 
 
 Luya, occupying her fingers with a trifle of needle- 
 work, was reviewing her father's report of his success 
 and finding in it the preface to her own, when Hen- 
 drik came panting in from school, his eyes eloquent 
 of his self-importance. 
 
 "I know why Mr. Wallace Waring hasn't been 
 here for the last five days ! " 
 
 "And I know, too, Hendrik," she replied, with a 
 nod of the head and a mischievous smile to abase his 
 triumph. "Mr. Waring is ill." 
 
 " Yes ; but you don't know what he is ill of ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I do. He is troubled with a fever, - 
 but it is not so mighty a matter, sir, but that he can 
 send me a daily bulletin in his own hand. You 
 are not the only wise person in the town, Master 
 Hendrik." 
 
 Hendrik thrust his hands into the pockets of his 
 nankeen shorts, and squared himself to an attitude of 
 manly consequence. 
 
 " I know better than that, though ! He's been 
 shot, that's what happened to him ! " 
 
 " Shot ! " gasped Luya, falling back in her chair ; 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 20Q 
 
 but, quickly rallying her forces, she lurched forward, 
 grasping at Hendrik, and, in a way that frightened 
 him, demanded : 
 
 " Who shot him ? " 
 
 " I didn't ! " he was startled into protesting, and, 
 retreating some steps, added in the breath, "His 
 father, I suppose." 
 
 Little was gained by the feverish questioning of 
 Hendrik, for the precise reason that Hendrik had 
 little to impart. He had heard a man talking to the 
 teacher, and had caught something about a quarrel 
 and a shooting, but nothing definite. The man had 
 seemed to be in ignorance of any particulars, for he 
 had said " I don't know " to many of the teacher's 
 questions. Nor was Hendrik's chance informant the 
 only honest citizen who was sorely troubled with a 
 burning to know what manner of accident it was that 
 had brought Wallace to bed, and for what reason he 
 was lodged at the inn rather than housed at home. 
 
 The mind of man was created to investigate phe- 
 nomena, and pride of office impels him to substitute 
 possibilities for probabilities, and probabilities for 
 evidence, when demonstrative proof is wanting. Not- 
 withstanding the fact that no one, save Jacob in a 
 partial way, had been taken into the confidence of 
 either of the Warings with regard to the scene in the 
 library ; and despite the discretion of all the parties 
 to the duel to keep the knowledge of it confined to 
 
2IO IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 the limits of a very gradually widening circle, certain 
 busy gossips of the coffee-house had reasoned out a 
 theory that did much credit to their intelligence. 
 The error in the general conclusion was a belief that 
 Lieutenant Willett had been invited out by Mr. Wal- 
 lace Waring to explain his pretensions to so much of 
 Miss Boylston's society, and had established his 
 right to precedence by the most convincing method. 
 The gossips rested content with this logical deduc- 
 tion, and began to speculate upon the magnificence 
 of the wedding that should have military splendour 
 to supplement the display which Banker Boylston 
 would feel it incumbent upon him to make in honour 
 of his only daughter. 
 
 Luya, who had fewer details than the gossips out 
 of which to construct a theory, went to her room 
 after her futile questioning of Hendrik, and, with her 
 face buried in her pillow, took counsel of her intui- 
 tions and wept herself into a certainty that a young 
 gentleman of Wallace Waring's prepossessing quali- 
 ties and gallant disposition could have but one object 
 in having deceived her as to the nature of his illness. 
 If he had been wounded without disloyalty to her he 
 would have been at no pains to conceal from her the 
 truth of his physical state. The one inference was 
 that his wound had come of a quarrel on some lady's 
 account. The lady she was at no loss to pick from 
 among her acquaintances. Though Miss Boylston 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 211 
 
 was very liberal with her smiles, and was not popu- 
 larly known to have singled out for especial favours 
 any particular one of the six or eight young gentlemen 
 who were familiar visitors at her father's house, Luya 
 could imagine no one so likely to have made a claim 
 to her preference as Lieutenant Willett. So, guided 
 only by her intuitions, Luya reached most expedi- 
 tiously the same sound conclusion to which the 
 gossips had come by the systematic and laboured 
 reasoning of many days. 
 
 Having the main verity clearly set up, it was an 
 easy matter to range the corollary beside it, and this 
 Luya did without hesitancy, rising from her moral 
 and physical prostration with her heart very flintily 
 set against a wretch who had been base enough to 
 trifle with her. 
 
 By the time she had bathed her face and rear- 
 ranged her disordered hair, she was sufficiently 
 restored to judicial poise to remember that it is as 
 well to have some slight corroborative evidence, how- 
 ever circumstantial, before passing sentence on one 
 whose guilt may have some extenuating aspects. 
 Jacob might be in a position to throw an illuminat- 
 ing spark on the question. No harm could come of 
 deferring final judgment until Jacob had been cross- 
 examined. In this equitable spirit of justice, Luya 
 took a chair to the window and sat down to watch 
 for Jacob's coming. 
 
212 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 When she saw him coming along the Parade she 
 went down to the door to meet him. 
 
 " Why did you not tell me ? " she demanded, as he 
 came up the steps. 
 
 " Tell you what, Luya ? " 
 
 "About Mr. Waring." 
 
 " You knew he was ill." 
 
 " But I did not know how it happened. Did 
 you ? " 
 
 Jacob was deficient in the polite art of ready eva- 
 sion. He fumbled about in his mind as a man 
 gropes in the dark, whenever he wanted the re- 
 spectable substitute for a direct answer. His 
 hesitancy was always the most unmistakable of 
 responses. 
 
 " You knew all about it, then ! " Luya exclaimed, 
 sharply. 
 
 " No, you are not to think that. I've not talked 
 with any one about it. I've not seen Mr. Waring 
 since. But I heard them say at the tavern that is, 
 I believe there was a misunderstanding some dis- 
 agreement, a difference of opinion " 
 
 He was trying to get in order the harmless fiction 
 he had devised the first day to tell to Luya in the 
 event of her questioning him. But the days of ap- 
 parent security had tricked him into forgetting his 
 fable, and his beating about was fatal to his good 
 intention. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 213 
 
 " Don't try to tell a lie, Jacob. You can't. Was 
 it Lieutenant Willett ? " 
 
 "Yes, it was Lieutenant Willett," he replied, re- 
 luctantly. 
 
 The eager light of the half hope went out of her 
 eyes, giving place to a gleam that went very well 
 with the clenching of the white slender fingers. 
 Jacob, seeing the change, wondered how it would 
 fare with Lieutenant Willett if only women could 
 work their will on men. 
 
 " Is Mr. Waring in any danger ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, he is past that a long way. He is faring 
 famously," Jacob answered, heartily, glad of the 
 chance to say something which taxed no scruple. 
 
 " Thank you, Jacob. I doubt but you will be 
 willing to leave a note at the inn on your way this 
 evening ? " 
 
 " Of course, Luya." And, as she was turning to 
 enter the house, he added, by way of cheer, " One 
 good thing come of it is the making up of the quarrel 
 between Wallace and his father." 
 
 There was not much sweetness in Luya's smile. 
 She knew of but one quarrel, that in which she had 
 taken some part, the afternoon when the elder gen- 
 tleman had so stung her pride, but less than the 
 memory of her avowal to the son was stinging it now. 
 The making up of that quarrel could have but one 
 significance. 
 
214 IN OLD NEW 
 
 " Yes, that is a good thing, Jacob, good for all of 
 us." She left him, abruptly going to the room in 
 haste, as if a moment's delay in the doing of a certain 
 mighty thing were a kind of treason to herself. She 
 wrote the note which Jacob should deliver for her, 
 giving much care to the wording of it, though it was 
 brief enough. 
 
 "I am fully acquainted with the circumstances and the 
 occasion of your fever.' I congratulate you that at so little 
 danger you were able to relieve yourself of embarrassments 
 that must have marred your future. But that you have such 
 unusual ideas of what is permitted to a gentleman I should not 
 have felt at the necessity to tell you what another would under- 
 stand, namely, that acquaintance between us is at an end." 
 
 Were it not for the mischievous zephyrs of folly 
 blowing the gossamers of love into a tangle, what 
 pretty tragedies would be lost from the comedy of 
 life ! Wallace was put into such a passion by this 
 note as threatened his healing wound. He imagined 
 that he owed its writing to Jacob, and it was upon 
 Jacob's head he broke the vials of his wrath. He 
 could conceive of nothing but that Jacob had recounted 
 the history of the gambling debt and the rescue, for- 
 getting utterly that it was to keep him from being 
 discredited in Luya's eyes that Jacob had insisted 
 on befriending him. He began to see a good deal of 
 subtlety and artifice in the apparently straightforward 
 Jacob. His generous and high mindedness was not 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 215 
 
 above setting traps in which to catch the man who 
 had come between him and the object of his love. 
 It was ridiculous to suppose a man giving a thousand 
 pounds to protect a rival's credit in his sweetheart's 
 eyes. These were not the days of Greek disinter- 
 estedness. When men do acts of extraordinary 
 virtue, it is just as well to look for the motive. Al- 
 truism is a very charming philosophy, no doubt, but 
 when it gets out of books and into practice it is time 
 for the wise to be on their guard. Mr. Jacob Wil- 
 bruch's aim was to play the hero in Luya's eyes at 
 the expense of a rather too careless and confiding 
 rival. And he had succeeded in making Luya believe 
 that he, Wallace, was a very contemptible fellow in 
 the balance of merits ! Very well, very well, let it 
 be so ; but let Mr. Jacob Wilbruch look to himself. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE reconciliation between Wallace and his father, 
 of which Jacob had spoken so cheerily, was not exactly 
 a restoration of the old relations. Under the shock 
 of learning what had befallen his son, Mr. Waring 
 had an attack of remorse and contrition by which he 
 was brought to a willingness to comply with any 
 demand Wallace might put upon him. But in that 
 favourable moment Wallace was not inclined to so- 
 licit favours, feeling an unreasonable resentment 
 against his father as the cause of the moral and 
 physical danger he had run. He received his 
 father's overtures with dignity and thankfulness, 
 but declared that it was his hope henceforth to 
 follow a course of greater personal honour than one 
 of idle dependence upon his father's bounty. 
 
 " I intend, sir," he said, looking capable enough, 
 notwithstanding his being flat on his back, under the 
 surgeon's orders, "when I have got out of this, to 
 essay something for myself. 'Tis an advantage, in a 
 way, to be a rich man's son ; but I begin to see it is 
 a peril, too, since it may dwarf the best part of 
 manhood." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 21? 
 
 " My dear Wallace, it is with this as 'tis with what- 
 ever else engages to serve the individual, a question 
 of personal character." 
 
 "There, sir, I take it, the mistake lies, it being 
 assumed that character is a substantial something to 
 determine us to one direction or another, and which 
 we have much in the same way that we have a 
 conscience, through no contriving of our own. I 
 think, sir, character is a thing of our own putting 
 together, and each incident of our lives is a part of 
 the structure. It is what we do that makes charac- 
 ter, it is not character that decides what we shall 
 do." 
 
 " I hope, Wallace, that you have not come to bed 
 to invent a philosophy. I much fear there is none 
 left to invent. Your best wisdom is to get well as 
 speedily as you may. I am much of the opinion that 
 you will still find ready money a convenience." 
 
 "Indeed, sir, I shall, but to a different use than 
 before. I shall, doubtless, wish to borrow from you 
 to my establishment, but my hope is to prove the 
 investment a good one." 
 
 " And what is your plan ? " 
 
 " I've not yet come to that ; though, sir, I do not 
 think to take to privateering." Wallace looked at 
 his father with a droll smile. 
 
 " I dare say," Mr. Waring replied, declining the 
 personal challenge, "that privateering is no worse 
 
2l8 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 than many another means to fortune. The ships of 
 an enemy are legitimate prey." 
 
 " But I've heard it whispered that the French ves- 
 sels are not the only objects on which some of our 
 New York privateers have turned their guns." 
 
 " If we give accommodation to every whisper that 
 knocks at our ears, Wallace, we shall have much 
 ado to respect our neighbours, since we will not 
 have room to entertain a good opinion of the best 
 of mankind. There is but one rule for a sensible 
 man, ' Hear only that which it is to your advantage 
 to hear.' ' He paused a moment, and then added, 
 " Except that one must take heed of the slander that 
 points his way. Umph ! I should like to send Lieu- 
 tenant Willett a cheque for the amount " 
 
 " Lieutenant Willett is paid," Wallace said, a little 
 sharply. 
 
 Mr. Waring looked surprised, started to ask a 
 question, but changed the subject, and did not 
 again refer to the matter in their subsequent con- 
 versations. 
 
 But the morning after he received Luya's note, 
 Wallace barely waited to welcome the visit of his 
 father before saying : 
 
 " Sir, I need at once a thousand and fifty-nine 
 pounds, which is the half of the sum I had thought 
 to borrow of you for my enterprise. Can you oblige 
 me with a cheque for the amount this morning ? " 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2 19 
 
 "You seem in excitement, Wallace ! That is bad 
 for your wound. You have some fever." Mr. War- 
 ing showed no little anxiety. " You must not allow 
 your mind to run on enterprises that set your blood 
 in motion. Where is your bolus ? " 
 
 "The cheque I ask for will go further than a 
 medicine to correct the disorder. Will you give it 
 me ? 'Tis in the nature of a loan." 
 
 " That will be an after consideration. To whom 
 shall I make it payable ? " 
 
 "To myself." 
 
 Mr. Waring raised his eyebrows. He did not 
 entirely like being shouldered out of his son's con- 
 fidence. He thought it was pride that made the 
 objection. He had not yet come to realise that 
 down among the crannies of his heart was a pale 
 flower of hungering affection which had been kept 
 alive these twenty odd years by the careless frank- 
 ness of the fellow lying there on the bed. Mr. 
 Waring wrote the cheque without further comment ; 
 and, later in the morning, Wallace sent it, indorsed, 
 to Jacob, with the line of thanks : 
 
 " To the extent that you have served me I return my 
 thanks. For the rest, I wait the time when I may have a 
 conversation with you." 
 
 Jacob saw nothing ambiguous in the vvords. The 
 note, to his mind, was a simple and sufficient acknowl- 
 
22O IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 edgment of the service he had rendered. He only 
 regretted that the repayment had been made so soon. 
 This prompt proof of Wallace's independence of him 
 made it seem that he had really done nothing what- 
 ever to befriend Luya. He would have been happier 
 had the money never come back. 
 
 Luya waited hopefully through that day and the 
 next for some word from Wallace. She made no 
 doubt he would write, and she had promised herself 
 the exquisite torture of returning the packet with 
 the seal unbroken. But as the hours went by, and 
 nothing came to be returned, the silence weighed on 
 her like a confession. At first she would have 
 scorned any attempt at self-exculpation he might 
 have had the impudence to make ; but by degrees, 
 as the likelihood of his making a plea decreased with 
 the slowly passing hours, she came to a great long- 
 ing for the chance to forgive the most heinous 
 offence of which he could have been guilty against 
 her. If he would but write to say, " Yes, I am a 
 rascal. I have trifled with you. I deserve the 
 worst you can think of me," she believed she would 
 have to end a volume of reproaches and upbraidings 
 with the declaration, " But I love you and I forgive 
 you everything." 
 
 But Wallace, miserably and savagely convinced 
 that Luya and the town at large held an opinion 
 of him which no letters from an invalid chamber 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 221 
 
 could dispel, resolved to abide his getting out to a 
 personal justification of himself. He had faith in the 
 power of his eloquence in a tete-a-tete with Luya to 
 overcome her aversion ; and he was willing to see how 
 far his sword would be needed to correct any general 
 misconceptions. So he kept his peace and fretted 
 his wound until the surgeon began to fear that all 
 his battle was to do over again under exaggerated 
 conditions. 
 
 In the evening of the second day of unrequited 
 longing, when she sat in the midst of the family, 
 unconsciously shedding around upon it the gloom 
 of her own sombre discontent, Jacob came in un- 
 expectedly to announce his intention of going to 
 Albany. 
 
 " Ant vat make you in Alpany, Jacob ? " 
 
 "It is not so much that I have anything to do 
 in Albany as that I have nothing to do here just 
 now," Jacob answered. 
 
 But he went on to explain that news had just 
 come to the effect that, encouraged by their success 
 in reducing Louisburg, General Shirley and Admiral 
 Warren had concerted a project for the conquest 
 of the whole of Canada, and that a sort of congress 
 was to be held at Albany to ascertain what support 
 the colonies would give the measure. 
 
 " If the colonies will agree to the levy of troops 
 enough, it is certain that England will send a navy 
 
222 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 to support them, for the Duke of Newcastle has 
 undertaken to say as much." 
 
 " I ton't t'ink t'at vill happen, Jacob. You see, it 
 is my opinion t'at Englant von't sent over some 
 ships to help t'e colonies in anyt'ings ; pecause, 
 Jacob, t'ere is too much intepentence of t'e colonists 
 alreaty, ant if t'ey got some more prite in t' em self s, 
 veil, the king voult not haf much to say after t'at, 
 Jacob. T'ere is no use your going to Alpany, 
 Jacob." 
 
 "But Jacob isn't going there to conduct a war, 
 papa." 
 
 "No, I'm going because I have never been there, 
 and because it is a good time to go, and then, too, 
 some of our friends are going." 
 
 " Ja, t'at is very goot reasons, Jacob. Alpany is 
 a pig, fine city, much pigger as New York, ant veil 
 vort seeing. I haf peen t'ere once. I haf a sister 
 t'ere. Her huspant peliefs t'at Alpany is petter 
 as New York ; put ton't let t'em make you t'ink 
 so, too, Jacob. Veil, if you go to Alpany, you must 
 go to see Josina, t'at's my sister. Her huspant is 
 pretty goot pusiness mans, in t'e flour trate." 
 
 " When are you going, Jacob ? " Luya asked, with 
 suddenly enkindled interest. 
 
 "We are going day after to-morrow, by the sloop." 
 
 "Up the Hudson! Delightful! It is a journey 
 I have dreamed to take, and you know, papa, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 22$ 
 
 my Aunt Josina has twenty times invited me to 
 Albany." 
 
 " Ja, she has invited you," Mr. Vanbergen as- 
 sented. 
 
 " I'm going ! " Luya declared, with energy. 
 
 " Heaven bless the child ! " exclaimed Mrs. Van- 
 bergen. " How can you go, Luya, if we were never 
 so willing to have you ? " 
 
 "Why, with Jacob. I cannot imagine being in 
 better hands." 
 
 " But you can't go now," Mrs. Vanbergen objected, 
 aghast. " You have been telling everybody you are 
 to give a party, and we have turned the house inside 
 out to make ready 
 
 " The party can wait ! " said Luya, with a toss of 
 the head, as if she were defying the community to 
 advance an objection. " I am of a mind to get away 
 from New York for a change. You have seen these 
 two days how much I am out of health, and I know 
 nothing so like to cure me as a journey to Albany 
 to see my aunt. If you oppose me, papa, 'twill be to 
 send me to bed with a fever, and, like enough, to my 
 grave, for I am resolved to make no choice but 
 between going to Albany and taking to my bed ; and 
 I vow I'm so much inclined to the latter that if you 
 delay you will have difficulty in persuading me to 
 the former." 
 
 Mrs. Vanbergen prattled disapproval in a hurried, 
 
224 IN OLD MEW YORK. 
 
 embarrassed way, not altogether sure of what she 
 was saying, but very certain that it was having little 
 influence upon Luya, who met each faltering objec- 
 tion so sweepingly that the good lady could do 
 nothing at last but fall behind the orthodoxy that it 
 would scandalise everybody to the land's end should 
 a young lady make the long journey in the company 
 of a young gentleman. 
 
 " Then my father may commit me to the captain's 
 care and appoint Jacob the custodian of the captain, 
 if he will, or, for that, you might go with me 
 yourself, mother, for, arrange it as you may, the 
 idea has so got possession of me that go I must, if I 
 have to make the journey as a runaway." 
 
 "Vife!" exclaimed Mr. Vanbergen, rising from 
 his chair as if lifted by an inspiration, " I vant to talk 
 vit you." 
 
 He beckoned her to follow him, and said to Luya, 
 with one of his laboured winks, "Vait till ve come 
 pack," as he ushered Mrs. Vanbergen out of the 
 room. 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen took Mrs. Vanbergen comfort- 
 ably by the arm, and, using the stem of his pipe to 
 point off and clarify sentences, explained very fully 
 his belief that the trip to Albany was a deliberately 
 planned scheme on the part of Providence with which 
 they would be culpable to interfere. He saw in it 
 a purpose to correct Luya's mind of a partiality for 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK, 22$ 
 
 another and restore it to a sympathy with Jacob. 
 As for the propriety of letting her go, what could be 
 urged against it ? There would be a party of them 
 by boat, and Luya might as creditably travel in a 
 party as Miss Norris had come from Boston in like 
 way. Above it all was the fact that Jacob had 
 grown up in the relation of brother to Luya, as all 
 the town knew. 
 
 "T'e trouple is, vife, t'at you haf too many Eng- 
 lish notions. Put as I am a Dutchman I voult rat'er 
 sent Luya vit Jacob t'an let her go vit some olt 
 voomans, ant t'at's so." 
 
 " Well, Evert, she is as much your child as mine ; 
 so if you want to let her go " 
 
 " Now, vife, t'at is t'e times I kiss you." Suiting 
 the action to the word, Mr. Vanbergen led his wife 
 back into the room, where Jacob was just promising 
 Hendrik to take one of the pigeons with him to 
 Albany to test its trustworthiness as a " homer." 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen stopped by the fireplace, laid his 
 pipe on the chimney-ledge, and, turning about to face 
 Luya, silently held open his arms, his lips smiling an 
 invitation. 
 
 That was one of the long disused intimacies of the 
 days when she was a child, and which he had only 
 employed when she had been rebellious and he wished 
 to assure her of his love and indulgence. In those 
 young days she had gone to him in a mental mix 
 
226 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 of stubbornness and penitence, receiving his kiss 
 shamefacedly, and it revived her good-humour now 
 to see him resorting to this half-forgotten way of 
 telling her that, though she had been naughty, he 
 could not help but forgive her. 
 
 " Yes, I am only a child, still," she said, as his 
 arms closed about her, " as foolish and as wilful as 
 ever ; and you are just the same dear old foolish 
 papa who spares the rod and spoils the child." 
 
 "Ton't say t'ose t'ings ven your moeder hears 
 you," he said, striking his chubby finger on her lips. 
 "She takes advantages of t'em." 
 
 "You can't say that I spoiled her, Evert," Mrs. 
 Vanbergen objected. " Do you think he can, 
 Jacob ? " 
 
 Jacob smiled, shaking his head. He could not 
 have said for the life of him' which of her two parents 
 Luya had more completely under her pretty thumb ; 
 but he knew it to be impossible that either of them, 
 or both of them, or all the world beside, could 
 spoil this blameless creature, who was so much 
 the better for having her own way. 
 
 There was no need to put into words the assent 
 Mr. Vanbergen had expressed in his embrace, and 
 for the little time after, during which Jacob remained, 
 the preparatory details and prospects of the momen- 
 tous undertaking were discussed with greater or less 
 enthusiasm. Then there was an overlooking and 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 22? 
 
 selecting from Luya's wardrobe, Mrs. Vanbergen 
 being betrayed by the excitement of it into bringing 
 forth and offering to Luya some sacred things folded 
 away and cherished from her own youth, bits of 
 finery that she had worn as a bride and of which she 
 told the story blushingly and laughingly ; a scrap or 
 two of lace from even an earlier day ; and, finally, a 
 quaint old brooch that was the one piece of jewelry 
 Mrs. Vanbergen had from her mother as a keepsake, 
 for she had reverenced it too much to wear it idly as 
 an ornament. The two women busied themselves 
 far into the night, for much was to be done against 
 the sailing of the boat, and there were none too 
 many hours for the doing. Great were the demands 
 of a visit to be made at a distance and planned to 
 continue "as long as Aunt Josina will keep me." 
 But it was such a spirited getting ready that the 
 good-byes had been said, and the sloop was making 
 brisk speed away to the fluttering of handkerchiefs 
 and the roar of many voices, before Mrs. Vanbergen 
 fully realised that she had made a sacrifice ; and she 
 went home with less spring in her step than there 
 had ever been before. 
 
 And in the evening, after Hendrik had gone, red- 
 eyed and murmuring, to his bed in the room beyond 
 Luya's, and had called down -stairs to know if he 
 might not sleep in Luya's bed for that night, the 
 mother sat in the low armchair by the window, look- 
 
228 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 ing out on the bay, watching through a mist of tears 
 the lights gleaming here and there like low-hung and 
 wavering stars, feeling, she knew not why, heavy- 
 limbed and aweary. Mr. Vanbergen was smoking 
 dejectedly in the chimney-corner, the glow from his 
 pipe making now and then a nimbus in the dark. 
 But the pipe was not a comforter to-night. It had 
 lost its magic savour. He put it down at last, half- 
 smoked, and drew his chair to the window close 
 beside that of his wife. His hand reached out to 
 take hers and clasp it in an interwining of fingers. 
 He felt the need of this drawing near to her, this 
 silent holding of her hand in the darkness. And he, 
 too, looked out at the lights on the bay, seeing them 
 through a mist. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 HAVING acquired a taste for commercial interests 
 without being aware of it, Mr. Waring was made 
 restless and disturbed by the fact that his capital had 
 become suddenly unproductive. After the closing 
 out of his relations with Mr. Vanbergen, he came to 
 haunt the Exchange in a new curiosity to see the 
 progress of trade and catch something of the excite- 
 ment of the large and stirring operations of the big 
 merchants who had come so much into authority in 
 all local affairs during the last ten years. He recog- 
 nised the change that was coming over the relations 
 of men and society, and perceived that many of the 
 former prejudices against trade were being removed 
 by the steadily increasing importance of mercantile 
 affairs. Though there were still well-defined lines 
 between the two classes of the community, the social 
 life was rather more in the hands of the merchant 
 than in those of the professional and "gentry" 
 order, and there was a mingling of the two on occa- 
 sions in a way to prove that commerce was like to 
 have the better of it anon. If the better fashion 
 gave brilliant receptions at the Fort and in the rooms 
 
 229 
 
23O IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 of the Black Horse Inn, the merchants gave equally 
 imposing and only less elegant gala-day gatherings 
 and evening balls of their own, having quite as much 
 money as their neighbours to spend in hogsheads of 
 wine and other prodigalities of good cheer demanded 
 by the passion of immoderate eating and drinking. 
 Political divisions, too, were making new distinctions 
 and new affinities and bringing extremes together, so 
 that a royalist merchant was more precious to the 
 e"lite than a gentleman of ancestral worth who had 
 the bad taste to shape his opinions to the spirit of 
 the opposition. 
 
 Mr. Waring had given so little attention to the 
 transformation going on about him that it surprised 
 him to find to what an extent the influence of the 
 Exchange was beginning to dominate the minds of 
 men. He was more than surprised to see that easy- 
 going Evert Vanbergen, his long-time partner, en- 
 joyed a degree of respect among his fellow merchants 
 that, in some instances, was enlarged to deference. 
 But, more than by anything else, he was moved by the 
 knowledge that fortunes were increasing at an amaz- 
 ing rate about him, and that each day of idleness on 
 the part of his guineas was a day of serious loss to 
 him. He saw, more distinctly than ever, that the 
 golden calf was the deity of salvation to which all 
 the other great and little deities were ranged sub- 
 ordinate. To be a rich man was the same as being 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 23! 
 
 a great man, and these dealers in merchandise had 
 as much observance from the multitude as did the 
 representatives of the Crown themselves. Revolving 
 these considerations in his mind, Mr. Waring came 
 to the determination to venture his capital anew, in- 
 tending, however, to have more to do in the next 
 instance with directing the enterprise. He imagined 
 that he had gained experience in his dormant associa- 
 tion with Mr. Vanbergen, and flattered himself that 
 his superior quality of mind would be vastly to the 
 advantage of the merchant he should choose to ad- 
 vise. Seeking for a new alliance, he remembered 
 Vanbergen's suggestion of Pieter Harmsen as a 
 proper and trusty person with whom to make term?, 
 in business, and, after some days of reflection, made 
 his overtures to that end. Mr. Harmsen, nothing 
 loath, came very readily to an agreement, and, in a 
 short time, Mr. Waring began, though still keeping 
 in the background, to feel the proud satisfaction of 
 personally turning at the wheel of fortune. Mr. 
 Vanbergen, noting the guarded intimacy between the 
 two and understanding it, chuckled, as if the arrange- 
 ment were quite of his own making. If Mr. Waring 
 chose to experiment with the most timid and appre- 
 hensive member of the Exchange, it was not for the 
 advantage-loving Mr. Vanbergen to complain. 
 
 The first enterprise of the new firm was to outfit 
 a privateer, which seemed the readiest means to 
 
232 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 extend trade, now that hostilities with France were 
 so well under way, and the whole merchant service 
 of the French could in that way be brought under 
 contribution. The decision was made the very day 
 on which Wallace took the air for the first time 
 since his being brought to bed of Lieutenant Wil- 
 lett's telling marksmanship. He had called a chair 
 and gone for a talk with Jacob, and had taken it 
 much amiss that that individual should have chosen 
 the time to be out of town. Concluding it better, 
 after all, to come first to an understanding with 
 Luya, he ordered the chair-men to bear him to 
 Mr. Vanbergen's house, and on the way had the for- 
 tune to meet Miss Boylston, in the escort of Allen 
 Bradford. Miss Boylston had so many congratula- 
 tory speeches to offer, and showed so sincere a spirit 
 in their lively utterance, that Wallace readily made 
 up his mind to the comforting belief that she at 
 least had heard no uncomplimentary things about 
 him. He gathered, indeed, from one or two veiled 
 remarks, that Miss Boylston was of the flattering 
 opinion that she herself had been the subject of the 
 quarrel between him and the lieutenant, and that she 
 thought none the less of him for having so nearly 
 been puffed out of existence on her account. This 
 piqued his curiosity, for he could hardly divine that 
 the lieutenant, hoping to profit in the young lady's 
 esteem by the amiable fiction, had led Miss Boylston 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 233 
 
 to think that the uncertainty as to whom she favoured 
 most among the young gentlemen of her suite was 
 the basis of the duel. He had been shrewd enough 
 to avoid the error of saying anything to the discredit 
 of Waring, and Miss Boylston imagined that the two 
 young men, having disposed of the question of honour 
 between them, were upon as good terms of polite 
 rivalry as they were before. But this explanation of 
 the duel had done much more than flatter an empty 
 vanity, inasmuch as she had argued from it that 
 Wallace could have no very serious interest in Miss 
 Vanbergen, since he was willing to risk his life out 
 of devotion to another lady, and that lady herself. 
 
 " Now that you are come to health again I hope 
 you will give your friends no further occasion to 
 such anxiety in your behalf. And I should advise 
 you, before coming to a question of pistols in another 
 instance, to inquire the lady's sentiments of herself." 
 Miss Boylston glanced archly from Wallace to Brad- 
 ford, to inform them in turn how much acquainted 
 she was with the matter. 
 
 "You are informed, then, that there was a lady 
 concerned ? " Wallace asked. 
 
 " La, Mr. Waring, there is never a certainty what 
 sets young gentlemen to such an adventure; but I 
 hope you are not for denying a rumour that does so 
 much credit to your gallantry ? " 
 
 " I am so far from the wish to lose anything from 
 
234 IN OLD NElv YORK. 
 
 my credit that I will even take the reputation rumour 
 gives me. Why have I not seen you this week past, 
 Allen?" 
 
 " I told you the last morning I saw you that I was 
 off with the party to Albany. But you were in so ill 
 a humour I doubt if you took account of it. I have 
 but now returned." 
 
 " I remember something was said of Albany. You 
 made but a short stop there." 
 
 "The shorter, I think," Miss Boylston volunteered, 
 meaning to tease him, " because at the last moment 
 Miss Norris changed her mind about going." 
 
 " I am used to being the victim of a lady's caprice, 
 Miss Boylston, and do not much disturb myself under 
 them. Besides, I was on commission, so that a lady 
 the less in the party " 
 
 " Fie, Mr. Bradford ! you shall not pretend to 
 slight my friend. All the world knows how much 
 you affect Miss Norris, though I dare say you are 
 not more loyal than you should be when other pretty 
 women are about. Confess, now," Miss Boylston 
 hazarded a shot, looking sidewise at Wallace as she 
 spoke, "confess that you philandered with Miss 
 Vanbergen the better part of the journey." 
 
 " Was Miss Vanbergen of the party ? " Wallace 
 demanded, eagerly, feeling a sudden dizziness, and 
 taking hold of the window-frame. " And and 
 perhaps Mr. Wilbruch, too ? " 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "Why, yes," Bradford said, surprised by Wallace's 
 vehemence, " I supposed you had known." 
 
 "Does it concern you so much, Mr. Waring?" 
 Miss Boylston asked, her smile giving a satirical 
 curve to the corners of her mouth. 
 
 " It does not concern me at all," Wallace answered, 
 more curtly than he would have approved in another. 
 "I was thinking The truth is," he interrupted 
 himself with a laugh, "I have lived so much a hermit 
 these fifteen days that I am astonished to find how 
 the world goes on without me. I came forth to-day 
 in search of Mr. Wilbruch, and I'm vexed to find 
 that he is not at my disposition. Happily 'tis a busi- 
 ness can wait. Are you minded, Miss Boylston, to 
 spend an hour at the tea-gardens ? If you and Mr. 
 Bradford will do me the honour to drink a dish with 
 me, I should think my first day at liberty well cele- 
 brated. I'll be bound we'll find there some friends 
 to help us to entertainment." 
 
 Miss Boylston consenting to drink some tea, Wal- 
 lace was for dismissing his chair, declaring he had 
 no purpose to coddle himself another hour. The 
 lady, however, would not hear of such an imprudence, 
 vowing that she would permit him to walk only with 
 the chair following, she reserving the right to order 
 him back into it whenever it should please her. 
 
 They made a merry affair of it at the Gardens, 
 Wallace addressing himself to Miss Boylston with so 
 
236 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 much admiration and gaiety that Bradford began to 
 have some doubt if Luya's absence was to weigh very 
 heavily upon this hearty and light-spirited convales- 
 cent. There was nothing in the lively flow of good- 
 nature nor in the lavish compliments that made Miss 
 Boylston colour with pleasure, to suggest the discon- 
 solate lover. 
 
 " I am sure, Mr. Waring, you have been at books 
 of wit and humour in your seclusion, and taken the 
 best things into your memory. I have never known 
 you half so entertaining." 
 
 "Then the credit is yours, madam. I take my 
 inspiration from your looks ; and if I am in better 
 vein than common 'tis because your eyes provoke 
 me." 
 
 " What, Mr. Waring ! Do they provoke you ? " 
 
 " Faith, they do, and most agreeably. Each glance 
 of them is equal to a bottle of canary, with the dif- 
 ference that I should set no limit to my indulgence." 
 
 "Come, Mr. Bradford, I appeal to you if it be 
 gallant to lay one's intoxication to the charge of a 
 lady's eyes. Why, on my word, if Mr. Waring' s 
 logic be allowed, each time he has more than his 
 share of canary he may excuse himself with the plea 
 that I have stared him out of countenance." 
 
 " Fairly hit off, Wallace ! " said Bradford, laughing. 
 
 " Egad, Miss Boylston, you would make of me the 
 most intemperate man on the island with such an 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 excuse, for I'd be drunk from Sunday to Saturday, 
 merely for the reputation of having been so much 
 in your gaze." 
 
 " Then you would so soon lose every other repu- 
 tation that I could not bear to have you come into 
 my sight. I perceive that you wish to drive me to 
 take the veil." 
 
 "Then it should have a crown of orange buds 
 above it." 
 
 Miss Boylston sent the most becoming of rosy 
 tints to frolic in her cheeks. She suddenly dis- 
 covered that the party was just too numerous by one, 
 and wondered by what adroit means Mr. Bradford 
 could be brought to appreciate the fact. But she 
 replied promptly to Wallace : 
 
 "I know not where to find one I could trust to 
 make me such a crown, Mr, Waring." 
 
 " Take counsel of me ; I know the quality of every 
 gentleman who is worth a crown between the Fort 
 and Greenwich." 
 
 "Then, when I'm in the mind for ornament of 
 the kind, I'll think on your offer. La, Mr. Bradford, 
 are you going?" she asked, suggestively, as Brad- 
 ford rose to change the position of his chair. 
 
 "If you are ready," he answered, not seeming to 
 have noticed how much her question was a permission 
 to his leave-taking. 
 
 " I suppose we owe it to Mr. Waring to send him 
 
238 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 home," she said, rising, a little vexed by Bradford's 
 obtuseness. " It is not proper he should be allowed 
 too much dissipation in his first day out." 
 
 Wallace protested gracefully in further compli- 
 ments upon her restorative influence, but they moved 
 toward the spot where the chair was waiting. Be- 
 fore reaching it, however, Wallace had persuaded 
 Miss Boylston to take his place in the chair, insisting 
 that it would do him a world of good if he might 
 walk to the inn on the support of Bradford's arm. 
 
 When they were alone, Bradford took Waring 
 by the arm in a monitory fashion, and demanded, 
 discontentedly : 
 
 " What the devil, Wallace, has come over you ? 
 If Miss Boylston does not imagine you are on the 
 way to a proposal to her, she has less complacency 
 than the rest of her sex." 
 
 " Well, and if I were, Allen ? " 
 
 " Deuce take it, Wallace, you are not a fop to play 
 at skittles with the hearts of all the women of your 
 acquaintance ! And if I am to give any value to 
 your confidences, I think you owe to Miss Van- 
 bergen " 
 
 " Don't preach from a text of which you have 
 only learned the part, Allen. Give no concern to 
 my conduct on Miss Vanbergen's account. I have 
 her blessing to go to the devil in what manner I 
 please, and if I marry Miss Boylston or the speckled 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 239 
 
 wench who scrubs at the inn 'twill be one with 
 her." 
 
 " You have quarrelled ? " 
 
 " No, egad ! I haven't had that pleasure. I've 
 been thrown, Allen, without so much as a shy by 
 way of warning. But I'm not for discussing the 
 case. I have but one argument to make when the 
 opportunity shall offer, and that without putting in 
 peril the rules of grammar," cuffing at his sword-hilt 
 as if he were boxing an ear. " Do you know how 
 long the absence is to be ? " 
 
 " She said it was indefinite whether she should 
 stay three weeks or as many months." 
 
 "She! I said nothing of a 'she.' I asked how 
 long Mr. Wilbruch would be from town." 
 
 " I think he means to push on to Boston, where 
 he has some relatives. Jacob, you know, is thinking 
 to go to college in the fall," Bradford added, with 
 a smile. 
 
 " Then he'll not return to New York ? " 
 
 " Oh, but he will, I think. He said he would see 
 me again in six weeks." 
 
 " Six weeks. Well, 'tis not an interminable time." 
 
 Mr. Waring called in at the inn to see Wallace in 
 the evening, and, in the general talk, spoke of his 
 intention to send out a privateer as a stroke of com- 
 mercial enterprise. Indifferent at first, Wallace came 
 suddenly to an interest in the project, when his father 
 
240 IN OLD NEW YORK, 
 
 said that the privateers would, doubtless, be invited 
 to cooperate with the regular navy sent over by 
 England in the contemplated attack on Canada. 
 
 " When do you think to send out your privateer ? " 
 
 " As soon as the vessel can be equipped, in 
 eight or ten days." 
 
 " And who is to have command of it ? " 
 
 "That I leave to Harmsen. I am not seen in 
 these affairs." 
 
 " Sir, I desire you to render me a service." 
 
 As Wallace had recovered health, something of Mr. 
 Waring' s determination to have his will on the mar- 
 riage question returned to him ; and he was inclined 
 to keep the screws as tight as possible. Wallace 
 should have the allowance Mr. Waring had proposed, 
 but " services " beyond that were to be considered. 
 Mr. Waring looked at Wallace without manifesting 
 any haste to learn the nature of the service desired. 
 
 "I would have the command of your privateer," 
 Wallace explained. 
 
 Mr. Waring opened his eyes wide in astonishment. 
 
 "Of what are you thinking, Wallace! 'Tis the 
 maddest freak I've known your fancy take. I should 
 as soon consent to send you ballooning to the moon 
 in a bread pannier ! God bless me ! do you imagine 
 you can as easily take charge of a ship of war as you 
 will handle a tandem in Hyde Park ? " 
 
 " Quite, sir ; for I am as good a sailor as horseman, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 24! 
 
 and know the ropes as well as I know the ribbons. 
 You must know, sir, I've done some cruising, and, as 
 I make it my profit to learn the working of whatever 
 thing engages me, I dare claim to know enough of 
 ships to make a respectable captain." 
 
 Wallace combated his father's objections so well, 
 both on the point of his merit and that of the emi- 
 nently honourable character of the position sought, 
 that the discussion ended in Mr. Waring's grudging 
 agreement to influence Mr. Harmsen's judgment in 
 the selection and appointment of a commanding officer 
 to the privateer. In due time, the ship's papers and 
 commission were made out and delivered formally to 
 Captain Wallace Waring, to the great wonder 
 of society, and particularly that part of society rep- 
 resented in the person of Miss Sophie Boylston, who 
 contrived, however, to send a flag which she begged 
 might be flown as the ensign of Captain Waring's 
 ship. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IT had been Jacob's intention to quit Albany as 
 soon as the conference should end ; but a good many 
 days had passed since then, the colonies having 
 readily pledged themselves to the war, and he still 
 found excuse for deferring his departure. Luya's 
 Uncle Bolton had proved to be a man of much local 
 importance, having been long identified with the 
 official life of the city, and his daughter Millicent 
 was a young lady of some fashion. This had plunged 
 Luya at once into a round of pleasant dissipations, 
 the eddies of which caught the unresisting Jacob in 
 their swirl, and lulled him into a half-forgetfulness 
 of the shadowy relatives in Boston, or, to be exact, 
 in Salem, for " Boston " was an indefinite York term 
 for a large area of Massachusetts towns and settle- 
 ments. He imagined that it was the unwonted ex- 
 citements and interests of a new experience which 
 detained him from his journey to the East ; but he 
 cared little enough for such trivialities of the idle 
 world, and would have taken coach from the best of 
 them, had not Luya held him with the smiling com- 
 plaint that he owed her some championship till 
 
 242 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 243 
 
 she should be better acquainted with the Albany 
 beaux. And he lingered, more and more loath to go 
 from her, even after the acquaintance with the gentle- 
 men of the town had progressed to an intimacy which 
 made Jacob's championship quite a superfluous affair. 
 She came to be so much in favour that Jacob found 
 his chief pleasure gradually narrowing to the con- 
 templation of the happiness to which he could make 
 but slight contribution. She seemed withdrawn from 
 his sphere. She decked herself in worldliness with 
 such lively abandon that the pursuit of gaiety 
 appeared to have become a fashion with her. Frivol- 
 ity and the toilet took possession of her, and very 
 pretty work they made of her, Jacob thought, for 
 there was no denying that the liveries of fashion 
 were vastly becoming to Miss Vanbergen. She wore 
 seductive new gowns ravishingly, and the days were 
 as processions of new gowns, Jacob wondering whence 
 they came, they were so much like the overnight 
 work of some benevolent old woman with a wand. 
 Her mind, too, took on a new dress, and bundled all 
 serious thoughts as cast-off garments into the rag-bag 
 of folly. She railed at Jacob's soberness, and recom- 
 mended him to the society of a pattern young gentle- 
 man who had the nimbleness of a dancing-master 
 and the noisy wit of a comedian, besides enjoying 
 the credit of having pinked his man while practising 
 a pirouette for the next Assembly. 
 
244 I N OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " I vow, Jacob," she remonstrated on one occa- 
 sion, " I cannot find that it has profited you so much 
 to come abroad. For all you have picked up to your 
 betterment you had as well stayed in New York." 
 
 And Jacob had smiled in replying : 
 
 "You have picked up enough for us both, Luya." 
 
 " I hope I have done very well," she admitted ; 
 "but I'd not have it thought you could have been 
 so long from home without showing some colour of 
 other soils. If you will do no more than learn to 
 carry a sword as Mr. Hepwell does his, or make 
 such an angle of the elbow as that when Mr. Living- 
 ston lifts a lady's hand to kiss, I should be well 
 enough pleased with your education." 
 
 But, having no faith in his ability to come at 
 either of these masterful accomplishments, Jacob 
 urged his way to the coaching-office on the last day 
 of his third week and booked a box seat for the fol- 
 lowing Tuesday morning. Luya had agreed to lend 
 herself to his entertainment the afternoon preceding 
 his departure. He wished to guard against any in- 
 trusions upon his exclusive rights in her company on 
 this farewell occasion. He could hit upon no better 
 means to secure the grace of privacy than a row upon 
 the river, idling among the cool, shadowed spots into 
 which he could pull to rest from the fatigue of row- 
 ing. He proposed the plan hesitatingly, doubting 
 that she would approve it ; but she consented so 
 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 245 
 
 readily that he could not thank her for the joy of it ; 
 and when they were really at rest in one of the shel- 
 tered inlets of the farther shore, well up from the 
 town, his contented heart had no language but a sigh. 
 His silence seemed to be gratifying to Luya, since she 
 sat for a long time without attempting to arouse him 
 from it. Being alone with Jacob in this way set her 
 thoughts running along lines they had studiously 
 avoided for many days, and Jacob had her much 
 less to himself than appearances deceived him into 
 believing. It was not a pleasing reverie into which 
 she had drifted with the still rocking of the boat. 
 The smile on her lips was not more indicative of 
 amiability than were the little puckers between her 
 eyebrows, or the quick tapping of her fingers on the 
 gunwale of the boat. When she remembered to 
 glance consciously at Jacob, she encountered his 
 rapt, devotional gaze, and exclaimed, almost suppli- 
 catingly : 
 
 " Don't look at me in that wise, Jacob ! " 
 
 Jacob flushed, disconcerted by her words and 
 curiously struck by her tone. 
 
 " Why not, Luya ? " 
 
 " Because it makes me furious." 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly a moment, then, 
 lowering his eyes, said, hardly loud enough to be 
 heard : 
 
 " I did not think to offend you, Luya." 
 
246 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "And you have not offended me, Jacob. It is 
 myself offends me. But I can't bear to have you 
 look at me as if I were something to worship, when 
 I feel like the most worthless creature in the uni- 
 verse." She spoke passionately, and he looked at 
 her wonderingly. 
 
 "What would you say, Jacob," she went on, hurry- 
 ing over her words, " of the woman who could turn 
 from the man who would give his soul in love of her, 
 and throw herself into the arms of a man who only 
 thought to amuse himself with her as with any other 
 toy of an hour ? " 
 
 " I should pity her, Luya." 
 
 "And what would you say if she should go on 
 loving the man after she learned how grossly he had 
 betrayed her ? " 
 
 " I should still pity her, Luya." 
 
 " And you would not despise her ? " 
 
 " Why should she be despised ? " 
 
 "And suppose she should marry a man she does 
 not love, taking him only because her pride sought 
 a shelter from its shame ? " 
 
 "I should pity her more than ever, then." 
 
 " Would you marry such a woman, Jacob ? " 
 
 " If I loved her. Why not ? " 
 
 " Even if you knew she did not love you, that 
 is, did not love you as wife should love her hus- 
 band?" 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 247 
 
 " If she were a good woman. One must love more 
 than the other. The man can do with least love. If 
 the man loves, the woman will come to have some 
 love, too. Marriage is protection and being protected. 
 That makes love." 
 
 She stared at him, astonished. It was not like 
 Jacob to talk in this manner. The ideas so simply, 
 even candidly expressed, did not seem to belong to 
 Jacob, or, if they did, Jacob was something other 
 than she had ever imagined him to be. She recalled 
 the scene of his proposing to her, and remembered 
 that she had laughed when he spoke of love. The 
 remembrance brought the colour to her cheeks, and 
 she looked down into her lap, toying with a ribbon 
 of her gown. After a silence, her eyes still down- 
 cast, she asked : 
 
 " Suppose I were the woman, Jacob ? " 
 
 He drew in his breath deeply, but made no an- 
 swer ; and a smile came to his lips in mockery of the 
 thought that this girl so greatly to be desired could 
 ever love and not be loved in return. He could not 
 so much as imagine that she had been thinking of 
 herself in asking those strange questions. She 
 waited some moments for his answer, then lifted 
 her eyes to him : 
 
 "Yes, Luya." 
 
 She leaned over to catch a floating leaf from the 
 
248 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 river. She shook the water from the leaf, and, re- 
 garding it as she spoke, said, slowly : 
 
 "If you will have me, I will go to Boston with 
 you to-morrow as your wife." 
 
 "Luya!" 
 
 He made a movement forward, with his arms out- 
 stretched to take her, the light of a great yearning 
 in his face, and had she but lifted her eyes, he must 
 have caught her to his breast. But when, after a 
 pause, she looked up to question his silence, she saw 
 his calm face only a little paler than usual, and his 
 hands grasping the handles of the oars, as he had 
 gripped them in the need to lay hold on some support. 
 She understood that pallor and the grip of those 
 strong hands. 
 
 "I am in earnest, Jacob," she said, firmly, but in 
 low tone. "You love me; you know what my feel- 
 ing is for you. My parents already love you as their 
 son. Take me, if you will have me." 
 
 " And Wallace Waring ? " he asked. 
 
 " I hate him ! " she answered, vehemently. 
 
 He came nearer and took hold of one of the hands 
 clenched in her lap. He pressed it open and held it 
 half-hidden in his own great hand. He began to see 
 into the trouble of her heart. He wished to comfort 
 her. 
 
 " Why do you hate him ? " 
 
 " Why do you ask ? You know." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 249 
 
 No ; I don't know. Tell me." 
 
 " You know why he fought with Lieutenant Wil- 
 lett." 
 
 "Yes," releasing her hand, "I know why they 
 fought. But there was no dishonour to Wallace. 
 And if you have heard the story of the quarrel, you 
 should know that he must have paid the debt before 
 there could be a duel. The fault was not his that 
 the debt was not paid in time to prevent the quarrel. 
 That was because his father " 
 
 " Of what are you talking, Jacob ? " Luya demanded, 
 interrupting him with an eager hopefulness. " What 
 are you saying of debts ? Was their quarrel about a 
 debt ? Only about a debt, Jacob ? " 
 
 "What did you think it was, Luya?" he asked, 
 guiltily afraid that he had betrayed Waring' s confi- 
 dence. 
 
 " Answer me, Jacob ! Their quarrel was about a 
 debt, a debt of the gaming-table ? " 
 
 He was troubled what to say. He did not quite 
 know how to interpret her eagerness, the trembling 
 anxiety, this mixing of hope with fear in her expres- 
 sion, this apparent desire to have an affirmative 
 answer. 
 
 " It was about a debt," he admitted, guardedly. 
 
 "And not about " She suddenly arrested her- 
 self and changed the question, " There was no other 
 cause ? " 
 
250 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 He shook his head ; but she saw some embarrass- 
 ment in his face, and it compelled her to ask the one 
 question that she had need to have answered directly. 
 
 "It is not true, then, that it had anything to do 
 with Miss Boylston ? " 
 
 Jacob's hesitancy was done with. He understood 
 now. 
 
 "No, no," he said, earnestly; "there was nothing 
 to do with Miss Boylston. If you have thought that, 
 you have been unjust to Wallace." 
 
 " Oh, Jacob ! " she cried, her heart rebuking her 
 for the joy she could not but let him see in her face, 
 " I have been most cruel to you. I have added to 
 your unhappiness but I did not mean to give you 
 pain I did not mean to worry you I would have 
 done what I said if you had not told me " 
 
 " Hush, Luya, I know," he said, stroking her hand. 
 " You have not been unkind to me. You have not 
 made me unhappy." 
 
 "And you forgive me? You forgive the heart- 
 lessness, the selfishness ? for I was thinking only of 
 myself, and not of the wrong to you." 
 
 His smile answered her better than his words. 
 
 " It is Wallace you must ask to forgive you. I 
 have only to thank you for showing me that you 
 would trust me at need. Shall we row back ? " 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THOUGH Mr. Vanbergen had certainly never had 
 a serious intention of resorting to any sort of busi- 
 ness artifice to trick the fortune of Mr. Waring, 
 he was, nevertheless, not above the human frailty 
 of chuckling over the embarrassments which Fate 
 showed a disposition to put in the way of the new 
 secret firm. Pieter Harmsen (or Nick Harmsen, as 
 he was commonly called, for his parents had been at 
 the extravagance of having him christened Pieter 
 Nikolaas) knew how to thrive peacefully in modest 
 ways ; but the larger demands of wide-reaching en- 
 terprise taxed his wits beyond their cunning. He, 
 therefore, yielded himself meekly to the dominance of 
 Mr. Waring, who, deceived by his belief that he had 
 gotten a deal of business knowledge from his purse 
 relations with Mr. Vanbergen, advised many heroic 
 ventures in addition to the sending out of the pri- 
 vateer, of which, by the way, nothing had been heard 
 in the two months since it sailed away. These ven- 
 tures were chiefly of an experimental character, it 
 being Mr. Waring' s theory that new roads offer the 
 shortest cuts to success in commercial undertakings. 
 
 25* 
 
252 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 He had invested in the silk industry, which was 
 making a vain struggle to come into competition 
 with foreign productions, and now confessed that he 
 had retired that much money from service for an 
 indefinite time. A vessel heavily laden with tobacco, 
 sugar, and other colonial virtues, destined for the 
 home market, had been caught in the tempest of 
 September 9th, and foundered under her bad treat- 
 ment, scarcely allowing the crew time to put off in 
 the long-boat. And Harmsen's one chartered ship 
 used in the Indian trade was so long overdue that 
 fears were entertained of her having fallen into the 
 hands of the French corsairs or other equally rapa- 
 cious pirates. As for Wallace and his privateer, Mr. 
 Waring entertained the gloomiest forebodings as to 
 the probable fate that had befallen them. Altogether, 
 Mr. Waring was not far from the opinion that the hier- 
 archy of devils had organised a particularly malicious 
 campaign for his personal vexation. In the ratio of 
 his injuries was the increase of his animosity toward 
 Mr. Vanbergen and his household, though he did 
 not waste any thought in the attempt to make a 
 logical connection between the disasters and Mr. 
 Vanbergen' s unfailing urbanity. It was enough for 
 him to know that he had not prospered since Van- 
 bergen turned him out at Luya's instigation. 
 
 When Luya returned from Albany, only to learn 
 that Wallace was on the high seas, doubtless cruising 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2$$ 
 
 away whatever remained of his kindly thoughts of 
 her, Mr. Waring had not yet sipped enough from his 
 cup of misfortune to feel any bitterness against the 
 young lady who had, as he came to think, forced 
 that cup to his lips. He greeted her with great 
 affability on their first chance meeting in the Parade, 
 and inquired with apparent interest if she were as 
 loyal to New York as before, and if she had come 
 back to fire the zeal of her townsmen for the Cana- 
 dian conquest. Her outward show was as amiable 
 as his own, and her sincerity much less to be ques- 
 tioned, for the reason that she felt a sort of vicarious 
 drawing nigh to the son in smothering the resent- 
 ments roused by the father's ungraciousness on a 
 particular and, to- her, memorable occasion. She 
 was very willing, therefore, that Mr. Waring should 
 so condescendingly ignore the fact that she might 
 have some reason to feel indignant with him. 
 
 Their chance meetings in the Parade, on the Bat- 
 tery, in the Trinity churchyard, or at some gathering 
 at the inn, continued for some time to be marked 
 by a mildly formal courtesy on his part and by a 
 responsive sunniness on hers. But, as the business 
 mischances began to plague him, his friendliness 
 toward Luya commenced to chill, and, after a time, 
 his manner came so near to aggressive rudeness that 
 whenever she passed him in the walk he would 
 glance at her as if she were a mere vagrant of the 
 
254 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 highways. Small wonder if the rebellion of her 
 spirit rose to homicidal intensity at times, and made 
 her fancy how very agreeable it would be to be able 
 to look a man to death ; but Miss Vanbergen was 
 not inept enough to let her weakness be seen, and 
 she always returned Mr. Waring's glance with such 
 a smile of ingenuous bewilderment as finally drove 
 him to avoiding her altogether. It is very humiliat- 
 ing to have a pert-faced young lady so hopelessly 
 unconscious of her effacement from one's recollec- 
 tion. But Mr. Waring was the more irritated against 
 Luya, and came the more heartily to hate her, for the 
 truly excellent reason that he could not justify to 
 himself his determined opposition to her. He con- 
 fessed with bitterness that she had as many virtues 
 and qualities to recommend her to esteem as any 
 young lady of his acquaintance ; and now that she 
 had come to give herself fashionable airs, losing no 
 opportunity to be seen in the gay assemblies of what 
 Mr. Zenger styled the elite, Mr. Waring was ex- 
 tremely annoyed to observe that she had no idea 
 of a proper subordination to Miss Boylston, and that 
 the young gentlemen abetted her presumption. To 
 aggravate his discontent with her, the Governor him- 
 self had taken it into his head to think Miss Van- 
 bergen a devilishly pretty young lady, and showed her 
 the marked politeness, one afternoon, of promenad- 
 ing with her under the elms during an uninterrupted 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2$$ 
 
 thirty minutes, much to the scandal of ladies who 
 had never been given the opportunity of declining 
 a favour so unusual. Moreover, Mr. Waring had 
 heard an impudent coxcomb declaring his opinion 
 that Miss Vanbergen would make a mighty fine 
 corner-stone on which to pose some clever man's 
 career. This was an impeachment of his own judg- 
 ment for which he held Miss Vanbergen responsible, 
 thinking it a sort of vice in her that she should come 
 so much into notice after he had been at pains to 
 define for her just the proper level of her aspirations. 
 Surprising himself one evening with a regret that he 
 had been so positive in his opposition to Wallace's 
 purpose to marry the girl, Mr. Waring routed the 
 sentiment so disloyal to principle by an emphatic 
 " Damn the witch ! I'd see him drowned before I'd 
 consent to his having her ! " And then he began to 
 wonder if Wallace could have gone down into the 
 deeps under the fury of that storm of September Qth. 
 He went to the window, his face a little grayer than 
 its wont, and looked out over the black patch of sea 
 as if there to find an answer. 
 
 But Wallace had not gone down into the deeps, 
 nor had he once thought of making so unprofitable an 
 end of his adventure. It is true that, in the very act 
 of making booty of a promising-looking brig that 
 flaunted the French colours, he had been set upon 
 by a Gallic man-of-war, and only escaped going to 
 
256 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 the bottom by valiantly showing his heels to the 
 meddler. But, nothing daunted, he had beaten about 
 the sea, visiting favouring ports at need, resolved not 
 to return to New York until he could drive a prize 
 before him, and, though he was three months in the 
 doing, and was quite despaired of by his father, he 
 came in at last master of a veritable galleon, and cast 
 anchor with the proud satisfaction of knowing that 
 the capture would at least cover the expense of the 
 enterprise. 
 
 At the end of a long interview with his father, in 
 which he learned what small reason that gentleman 
 had to be content with the world in its methods of 
 dealing with him, Wallace suddenly demanded to 
 know if Mr. Jacob Wilbruch were away at his 
 college. 
 
 Mr. Waring smiled grimly. He was not flattered 
 by Wallace's supposition that he was informed of 
 Mr. Wilbruch' s plans and conduct. But, as Jacob 
 was part and parcel of the crown of thorns he was 
 now wearing with a stoical kind of pleasure in the 
 pain it gave him, he made the best of the prick by 
 thrusting it deeper into his flesh. 
 
 "If Mr. Wilbruch had an intention of going to 
 college, he seems to have abandoned it. At any 
 rate, he has gone into business with Vanbergen, for 
 his cursed name is over the door. I hear he is to 
 marry the Vanbergen girl." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "The Vanbergen girl!" Wallace repeated, disap- 
 provingly. 
 
 " Miss Vanbergen, if you prefer." 
 
 " I do very much prefer, sir." 
 
 " I hoped the sea would have blown the nonsense 
 out of you." 
 
 " If the sea is a corrective, sir, I fear it was the 
 wrong one of us that made the cruise." 
 
 "You have parted with none of your insolence." 
 
 "No, sir, since 'tis that which keeps us on an 
 equal footing." 
 
 "You are a proof of the law of heredity," Mr. 
 Waring said, throwing one leg over the other, and 
 looking at Wallace with a half approving smile. 
 " You have all the opinionated obstinacy and unrea- 
 sonable arrogance of your grandfather." 
 
 " Is it necessary to go so far back for my pattern, 
 sir ? " 
 
 " Faith, no, Wallace, for I see some of my virtues 
 in you ; but you lack the chief one of common sense. 
 If you could clear the romantic rubbish from your 
 head and give reason more room to expand in " 
 
 " You think, sir, I might arrive at the distinction 
 of being the husband of my wife." 
 
 " I suppose you intend that for a cynicism, my 
 dear Wallace ; but you would not by any means be 
 the first man to owe his distinction to the right 
 choice of a wife, as you may find in the histories of 
 
258 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 our most famous men, if you will take the trouble 
 to examine them. But I see your impatience to be 
 gone about some folly of the town " 
 
 " I hope, sir, you have never found me impatient 
 to quit your company." 
 
 "Faith, Wallace, I have not. I think we like 
 each other with tolerable agreement ; but you are 
 yet at the age to ' fillip the world aside and cock 
 your hat at fate,' and 'tis proper you have an eager- 
 ness to break a bottle at the inn with your fellows. 
 Youth must not waste its time with old men." 
 
 There was a strain of something in the tone very 
 unlike Mr. Waring's habitual mocking evenness of 
 speech, which caught Wallace's attention. 
 
 " I shall be quite as pleased to break a bottle here 
 with you," he began, smilingly. 
 
 "No, Wallace, no," Mr. Waring interrupted, "I 
 have cultivated a taste for my own company at this 
 time of day. Come back in the evening, if you will. 
 Humph, will you sleep in your old room, or do you 
 think to stop at the inn ? " 
 
 " Perhaps, sir, I shall stop at the inn for to- 
 night." 
 
 There was an almost imperceptible movement at 
 the corners of Mr. Waring's mouth, and an equally 
 slight quiver of the eyelids as the only signs of the 
 disappointment this answer gave him. 
 
 " You will need some money, then, for the risks 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 259 
 
 of the play," he said, smiling, and reaching to take 
 up a pen from the writing-table. 
 
 " Spare yourself the trouble," Wallace said, putting 
 his hand restrainingly on his father's arm ; "I am 
 done with cards until I can afford to risk the money 
 of my own getting." 
 
 Again the faint change passed over Mr. Waring' s 
 face, but he said, laconically : 
 
 " As you please. Excessive virtue is a vice. Be- 
 ware of becoming a milksop. A gentleman owes 
 something to his station. I do not encourage you 
 to game. But I would choose to see you as liberal 
 as your fellows." 
 
 " The last time I incurred a debt at the table you 
 refused " 
 
 " Tut, tut ! That's past. You found me in a 
 temper and played the swaggerer with me. Don't 
 repeat the offence. I have no stomach for re- 
 proaches." 
 
 "I had no thought to reproach you, sir. I was 
 about to say that because of your refusal I was 
 driven to commit a crime, in order to have the right 
 to defend my honour." 
 
 "A crime, Wallace!" Mr. Waring demanded, in 
 consternation. "What crime ? " 
 
 " The crime of setting your name to a cheque, sir." 
 
 "You did that!" 
 
 " No ; I didn't get so far. But I had the will and 
 
26O IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 the intention to do it. It was the merest chance 
 I thought it was a godsend at the time that 
 prevented me." 
 
 Mr. Waring had sunk back into his chair, pale 
 and tremulous, clutching hold upon the arms, seem- 
 ingly to keep himself from slipping to the floor. He 
 stared up at his son as if looking through and 
 beyond him, his face colourless and set. 
 
 " A forger ! " he said, in almost inaudible tone. 
 
 " In purpose, not in fact," Wallace responded, and 
 came nearer, feeling some alarm on his father's 
 account. 
 
 But Mr. Waring repelled him with a quick motion 
 of the hand, and straightened up in his chair. The 
 pallor of fear had given place to the white gleam of 
 anger in his face, and he shook his extended hand, 
 as if driving home the words that came passionately 
 from his lips, but not loudly, for he spoke as one 
 having a fear to be heard. 
 
 " You have set yourself in opposition to my wishes, 
 you have mocked at my ambitions, you have allied 
 yourself with my enemies, and now you crown all by 
 confessing yourself a criminal, a criminal against 
 me, against my honour, against my fortune, for I 
 know not how many of your forged orders my 
 bankers have paid " 
 
 " Father ! " 
 
 It was a cry of anguish, the soul's recoil under the 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 26 1 
 
 shock of a sudden and overwhelming injury ; and 
 Wallace stood quivering like one who feels, for the 
 first time, and unjustly, the gaoler's lash on his bare 
 back. But Mr. Waring seemed not to have heard. 
 He went on, his voice raised to a higher pitch by 
 his increased excitement, his body thrust a little 
 more forward, his outstretched finger still striking 
 in emphasis of his words. 
 
 " You have brought me shame and reproach as 
 the reward of my days, and ruin and dishonour 
 may be waiting to beat me down, but you shall 
 not stand by to mock at me ! Out of my presence ! 
 Out of my sight ! Quit my home ! I would to God 
 the sea had kept you from entering it again ! Go, 
 go ! and give me leave to forget that I have ever had 
 a son." 
 
 He rose to his feet, menacingly, his tall, slight 
 figure making a pitiful contrast to the finely athletic 
 proportions of his son. But Wallace, dumfounded, 
 unable to comprehend this frenzied passion, and fear- 
 ing what might be the effect upon his father, were 
 the scene prolonged, bowed his head and went out of 
 the room. 
 
 The click of the latch as the door closed seemed 
 to bring Mr. Waring to a sudden realisation of what 
 he had been saying. He called out : 
 
 " Wallace ! Wallace ! Come back ! I was wrong ! 
 It is I who am to blame ! Wallace, my son ! " 
 
262 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 He had made blind haste to follow to the door as 
 he spoke, and, in his eagerness, stumbled over a 
 footstool in the way and fell heavily to the floor, his 
 head striking against the wall with such violence that 
 he lay silent and motionless, and was so lying when 
 his black valet came into the room half an hour 
 later. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 LAMBERT'S garden, near the upper end of the 
 promenade, opposite the well in the roadway, was 
 a pleasant and convenient place to break a tedious 
 hour. A low wall of gray stone shut in the garden 
 on three sides, giving it a comfortable air of seclusion, 
 and scattered here and there under the trees at the 
 back and to the left of the peaked-roof house were 
 tables for the accommodation of couples or parties. 
 On the other side of the house was a turfed alley, 
 shaded by a long trellis overrun with vines, where 
 the game of ninepins could be played by whomsoever 
 came first to the bowls, the general understanding, 
 however, being that folk of the meaner order must 
 give place to the " quality." Mr. Lambert knew the 
 art of extracting from the juice of cherries a drink 
 at once refreshing and energising, which made no 
 small addition to the attractiveness of his garden; 
 and a bottle of his canary left to hang for an hour in 
 the depth of the well had a masterful way of laying 
 hold upon thirst. Then, to top all, Mrs. Lambert 
 was famous for her tea and crumpets, served fresh 
 every afternoon, and Claudine, the more than comely 
 
 263 
 
264 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 daughter of twenty, had a discreet way of winking a 
 black eye as ever won the confidence of a gentleman. 
 What with the tea and crumpets for the ladies, and 
 Claudine's intelligence with the gentlemen, Mr. 
 Lambert found thrift in the fashionable world. It 
 would not be to the purpose to inquire whether 
 Claudine was the model of lively probity and cheer- 
 ful virtue the ladies believed her to be, nor whether 
 the smile she dropped into one gentleman's tea was 
 more particular in its allowance than that with which 
 she sweetened another's, were her relation to this 
 history only that of a chance Hebe of the teapot, 
 whose morals had nothing to do with the strength of 
 her mother's brew. Perhaps a less conscientious 
 chronicler would hardly think it worth his while to 
 spend time in recounting a trifling circumstance that 
 had no decisive outcome ; but it is sometimes as 
 much a part of interest to know of the inconveniences 
 a hero escapes, as to be informed what adventures 
 befall him. It is with respect to that view only that 
 a discovery which the vivacious Claudine made con- 
 cerning herself is given an incidental place in the 
 record of events. 
 
 Claudine, indolently posed in the corner of a high- 
 backed bench, was watching with indifferent interest 
 a quartette of honest fellows dividing their attentions 
 between the tankards of beer and the knocking over 
 of the ninepins. Suddenly, without any apparent 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 26$ 
 
 reason, she gave a convulsive start and sat stiffly 
 erect, her rosy cheeks become ashen and her black 
 eyes enlarged by fear. She sat for a time breathing 
 pantingly through her open mouth, her hands pull- 
 ing at the top of her bodice as if she felt its pressure 
 suffocating ; then, with a moan of despair, she hurried 
 away like one afraid to be seen, and, running to her 
 room, flung herself on her bed in a paroxysm of 
 weeping. 
 
 "Wat troubles Mistress Claudine?" asked one of 
 the players of another. 
 
 "There's no telling what's the trouble with a 
 woman. They're skittish critters," replied the man 
 in a Dutch cap, and the four good men went sensibly 
 on with the play that concerned them, merely nodding 
 their acknowledgment of the fact that Lieutenant 
 Willett, accompanied by Mr. Ashton and Mr. Brad- 
 ford, had just strolled into the garden, having found 
 the Parade as yet unattractive. 
 
 "Ah ! these are the fellows," said Bradford, "who 
 played a match for our amusement last week. How 
 say you, lieutenant, do you feel inclined to lay a 
 guinea or so on either side? I'll lay against your 
 choice." 
 
 " You are generous," laughed Ashton. 
 
 " Or is your offer a slight on my judgment ? " the 
 lieutenant asked, good-humouredly. 
 
 " I am the last man in the world to question the 
 
266 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 judgment of Lieutenant Willett or any other 
 master of pistol and sword. I am but a hedge- 
 sparrow in the matter of opinions. I avoid any 
 choice of a quarrel where the advantages are against 
 me." 
 
 " Tis not your reputation." 
 
 "Reputation," said Bradford, "is a braggart. 
 Here is Ashton, now, who passes for a wit, but I 
 swear I never heard him pair two words of mean- 
 ing-" i 
 
 Ashton clapped him on the shoulder expostulat- 
 
 ingly. 
 
 "It requires some wit to understand a wit, my 
 dear Allen. A pack of cards and a book of com- 
 pliments being your only library, how the deuce 
 should you know a wit, though you break your head 
 against him ?" 
 
 " Easily, my dear Ashton," Bradford laughed, 
 giving his sword a clip, " by his resistance to a yard 
 of good steel. But what do you say to a wager, 
 lieutenant ? " 
 
 "I'm more for something to drink. Where the 
 devil is everybody ? " beating a summons on a bench, 
 and calling " Lambert, Lambert ! You are missing 
 trade, man ! " he added, as Lambert appeared in the 
 door, hastening forward to receive the orders. " Some 
 bottles of wine." 
 
 " And have them cool, Lambert," Ashton cau- 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 26? 
 
 tioned him. " And invite your daughter to come with 
 it. She is its best flavourer." 
 
 "I shall charge her, gentlemen," Lambert prom- 
 ised, ending a series of obsequious bows to retire 
 into the house. 
 
 " Well, Bradford, I'll chance a guinea on the side 
 of the cap." 
 
 " Done. I should have chosen to be against the 
 cap. I do not like the hang of it, and 'tis none of 
 the cleanest. Besides, my grandfather wore a night- 
 cap of that fashion, and I have yet the memory of 
 a birching I got through making a fish-net of it." 
 
 " Does your chief regard to a Dutch cap grow out 
 of that memory ? " Ashton asked, with an insinuating 
 smile. 
 
 "Is that a witticism, Ashton ? For hang me if 
 I understand it ! " 
 
 "No, 'tis a commonplace, since I'm thinking of 
 Miss Vanbergen and the cap you have set for her, 
 which, I take it, is a Dutch cap." 
 
 " Gad, Ashton, there is malice in you." 
 
 " None in the least, unless your attentions to the 
 lady are not honest." 
 
 Bradford's manner became grave. 
 
 "Let us have no jests on that subject, Ashton. 
 My attentions to Miss Vanbergen have no other 
 meaning than that I am Wallace Waring's friend, 
 which means that I am hers as well." 
 
268 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " What the deuce has Wallace Waring to do with 
 the matter ? " demanded Ashton. " Why do you 
 couple their names ? The town has it that Waring 
 is matched against the lieutenant here which of 
 them shall come surest into Miss Boylston's graces." 
 
 Willett had caught eagerly at Bradford's uncon- 
 scious betrayal of a confidence which he had for- 
 gotten for the moment was not a general property. 
 
 " Have Miss Vanbergen and Waring come to so 
 much of an understanding ? " he asked. " Are you 
 playing the squire in his behalf ? I'd give some- 
 thing for that assurance." 
 
 "Wallace has returned," Bradford answered. 
 " You'd better ask of him. I am not authorised to 
 say he is not in your way to Miss Boylston." 
 
 " Ordinarily," said the lieutenant, lounging into a 
 chair by a table, " I think the better of a man 
 after I have had out a quarrel with him ; but, for 
 all he is your friend, Bradford, I must tell you 
 I'm not in love with Waring, and 'twill not mend 
 matters " 
 
 " If he has a mind to Miss Boylston ? " Bradford 
 asked, smilingly, as the lieutenant hesitated. 
 
 " Exactly," said the lieutenant, with emphasis. 
 
 " That is a point you should argue with the lady, 
 for she may have an opinion on the subject." 
 
 "Thank Heaven, gentlemen," cried Ashton, "here 
 is wine come to give a healthier flow to your sen- 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 269 
 
 timents. I swear, I could never understand how it 
 is that two good fellows, gentlemen of acknowledged 
 sense and spirit, should let a difference over a 
 petticoat mar their tempers. Women were set into 
 the world for man's amusement, for his cheerful 
 pastime, and to take them seriously is to clap a cox- 
 comb on to the head of wisdom." 
 
 Lambert set two bottles of wine on the table, 
 and presently Claudine, troubled of countenance and 
 humid of eye, despite a certain enforced play of the 
 lips, brought out a tray with the glasses. 
 
 The gentlemen said flattering things, and Claudine 
 made agreeable replies, her French readiness being 
 more than a balance to her heavy-heartedness. But 
 she contrived, in leaning to put down the tray, to 
 whisper in Lieutenant Willett's ear : 
 
 " I want to speak with you." 
 
 At the same time, the laughter and bantering 
 among the players at ninepins announced the finish 
 of the game, and Bradford called out : 
 
 " Which side has won, my man ? For there is 
 a guinea on the issue." 
 
 " Not your man, neither, Master Bradford," re- 
 sponded the man in the cap, "for 'tis our side 
 has it." 
 
 " So much for your judgment, Willett. I hope 
 it may prove as sound when 'tis more to your profit. 
 Will you have the guinea, or shall I fling it to them 
 
270 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 to drink your health?" Taking the permission for 
 granted, he tossed the piece to the men, who received 
 it with a shout of good-nature. " There, my fine 
 fellows, get as drunk as a guinea will let you." 
 
 " But you must go into the kitchen for your drink- 
 ing," said Lambert to the men, speaking with a 
 slight French accent. " I see the gentlefolks walk- 
 ing this way, and some of them may wish to play." 
 
 " Then you must first give the bowls a bath, friend 
 Lambert," Bradford advised. "They have the soil 
 of labour on them." 
 
 " Yes," said the man in the cap, with an amiable 
 leer, " and it's tax on labour that puts the fine coat 
 on your back, Mr. Bradford. That's the soil of 
 labour, too." 
 
 "Excellently said, my democratic friend," Brad- 
 ford cried, heartily joining in the laugh of the 
 men and taking out a coin to throw. " And there's 
 another guinea for your wit. I'll pay you as well, 
 Ashton, when you grow as apt." 
 
 " I should be sorry to ruin a friend," Ashton 
 rejoined, "for I'm not sure that your purse will 
 go further than my wit." 
 
 " Gad, Willett, that's one of his ill-tempered drives 
 at my having borrowed half a thousand, in a pinch, 
 and which he had the impudence to win before it 
 was cold in my pocket. By George ! has Willett 
 given us the slip ? " 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2/1 
 
 " No ; you may see him yonder, advising with 
 Claudine upon the complexion best suited to a 
 panegyric." 
 
 " I supposed she had had your counsel." 
 
 " Indeed, no, Allen. I never go beyond an ogle 
 with a pert virgin. They are very well to hand about 
 in a dance, or to lend variety to a promenade ; but 
 when I venture on a steeple-chase, I trust to some- 
 thing better seasoned than a filly." 
 
 At that moment, Lieutenant Willett, looking 
 rather blankly at the fringes of Claudine's downcast 
 eyes, was saying, but entirely without conviction : 
 
 " But it is quite impossible, Claudine. You have 
 taken a scare at a shadow." 
 
 " But it is true." 
 
 " Well, and if it were, why do you come to me ? " 
 
 " And why not to you ? " She looked up with 
 just the glint of a defiance in her eyes. 
 
 " Why not to another ? " he asked, with mean- 
 ing, and then, bending a little more toward her, 
 he repeated, with a different inflection, "Why not 
 to another, Claudine? I'll make it worth your 
 while." 
 
 "What other?" She asked the question experi- 
 mentally. She had a curiosity to find how observing 
 the lieutenant might have been. 
 
 Willett hesitated, twisting at his chin as if to 
 screw out of it a governing suggestion. With the 
 
272 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 toe of his boot he traced the angles of two letters in 
 the path. 
 
 "There," he said, directing her attention to the 
 marks. 
 
 "What is that? < W. W.'?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And they stand for " 
 
 "Wallace Waring." 
 
 Claudine laughed, and quite merrily, notwithstand- 
 ing she had been debating some very grave questions 
 with herself in the last half-hour. 
 
 " Why, I hardly know him ! He has not spoken 
 to me a dozen times. It would be ridiculous." 
 
 "On the contrary, it would be very sensible, for 
 you will be ^200 the richer for a statement that 
 will do him no very great harm and will do me a 
 devilishly pretty service." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " That I must beg leave to keep to myself." 
 
 " Why should I injure a gentleman who has done 
 nothing to offend me ? " 
 
 "Because you will rather point out some one for 
 whom you care little than sacrifice a friend." 
 
 "I think not. If I am to suffer on a friend's 
 account, 'tis the friend rather than another to whom 
 I should look for protection." 
 
 " You shall not want protection, that I promise 
 you. Deuce take it, Claudine, if you will be sensible, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2/3 
 
 you shall live as much the lady as your wish will 
 have you. Look at the matter fairly, and find how 
 much you may benefit by obliging me, and how small 
 gain it will be to you if you provoke me. The charge 
 would put me to so much inconvenience that, though 
 I swear 'twould pain me to deny having had the 
 favour of so charming a creature, I should have 
 to treat it as a slander " 
 
 " Oh, I know," she interrupted, " how preciously 
 the law and society take care of a gentleman against 
 such as me. You needn't think me fool enough to 
 look to the law. I'll look to the river sooner. But 
 I thought I thought you would befriend me." 
 
 " Plague take it, Claudine, I ask but the privilege. 
 'Twas the thing I had to propose. You shall go from 
 here when it pleases you and live where you may 
 choose, with an allowance to content you, if, on 
 going, you will leave behind for your father some ten 
 lines of my dictation." 
 
 "How do you know you could afford what I might 
 demand ? You are not so very rich, I think." Clau- 
 dine was coquette above all, and already her fears and 
 the scruples raised by them were vanishing into very 
 thin air. 
 
 " When a man is a favourite of the cards, my dear 
 Claudine," he said, jestingly, giving her chin a fillip 
 with his forefinger, "fortune becomes his mistress. 
 The purses of my friends are at my service. But if 
 
2/4 <flV OLD MEW YORK. 
 
 you will act as I bid you, I may hope to secure as 
 gentlemanly a fortune as my tastes demand. Come ; 
 say it is agreed. Put your eyes into your tongue 
 and make the ' yes ' audible. Egad ! Claudine, I did 
 not have so much difficulty at persuasion on an occa- 
 sion less to your making ! Eh, Deenie ? " 
 
 " But why should I leave a letter for my father ? 
 Do you think he would post it in the coffee- 
 house ? " 
 
 " No ; but I can trust to your mother's whisper- 
 ing into every lady's ear enough to set a story 
 moving around the town." 
 
 " I see not how you think to gain in the matter. 
 A credit for gallantry is thought to improve a man 
 in the women's eyes." 
 
 " But not in a sweetheart's eyes, Claudine. You 
 women want every man inconstant but your own. 
 Let the story get currency, and trust me to make 
 good use of it. Faith, I'll not wait till it is current ; 
 'twere a pity if I might not be one of the first to 
 debate a rumour of my own creating." 
 
 " Do you know that I begin to find you something 
 of a knave ? " She smiled as if knavery were some- 
 thing to a man's embellishment. 
 
 " All men are so, my beauty, and you and I would 
 find the world devilishly humdrum were they not. I 
 can imagine nothing so depressing as a paradise of 
 saints. I swear, Claudine, I believe that bit of throat; 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK, 
 
 2?$ 
 
 peeping through this fold of lace has just the circum- 
 ference of my lips. Humph ! I thought so." 
 
 " I'm being called." 
 
 " The world is beginning to arrive, no doubt." 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Miss VANBERGEN had none of that candour which 
 invites the world to look in upon its cabinet of woes 
 and griefs and disappointments. She was rather of 
 a nature to conceal the possession of such a treasury, 
 and, like a miser with his gold, only visited it in 
 secret. And as the miser bemoans his poverty in 
 the proportion that his hoardings increase, so Miss 
 Vanbergen, as her heart got heavier with anxiety 
 over Wallace's absence at sea, became livelier of con- 
 duct and lighter of laughter in the public eye. No 
 one danced so gaily at the parties, or came more 
 regularly to air her finery in the Parade, or more 
 readily lent herself to the frivolities of the quickened 
 autumnal season. Allen Bradford, who most fre- 
 quently was her escort and guide in these pleasanl 
 dissipations, began to wonder if the corsair were nol 
 as much out of her heart as out of her sight ; anc 
 he fell to building vague, almost indefinable hopes on 
 the fact that she so invariably gave the conversation 
 a flippant turn into other channels whenever he spoke 
 of Wallace. Not that Bradford had the least shadow 
 of disloyalty to his absent friend to trouble his mind 
 
 276 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 277 
 
 but he was not so quixotic that he thought it neces- 
 sary to sacrifice actualities to illusions. And how 
 was he to know that no one looked so often or so 
 longingly toward the open horizon as did Miss Van- 
 bergen, that no one listened so attentively to the 
 news and rumours from the sea, that no one ran so 
 eagerly to the docks when a vessel came into the 
 bay ? What should he or any one know of the hours 
 passed at the chamber window that looked out to- 
 ward the sea, and of the tearful yearnings of the girl 
 sitting there, praying for the privilege to fling her 
 arms about the neck of a valiant pirate and murmur 
 a thousand pretty pleas for forgiveness in his ear ? 
 And how was any one to guess that Miss Vanbergen 
 had thought seriously of urging her father to send 
 out a vessel to search the sea and its worst places 
 for this long-tarrying gentleman who might have 
 been ill-starred enough to suffer wreck on the rocks of 
 some island solitude ? Half of her gaiety was, in point 
 of fact, nervous disturbance, and her laughter was 
 beginning to have in it something of extravagance 
 when Hendrik greeted her return from a meditative 
 ramble up the west shore with the announcement 
 that Wallace's ship had come in, bringing a prize 
 with it. She felt a sudden tightening of her body, 
 as if it had been crushed in upon her by a mighty 
 force, and the earth seemed to have stopped going 
 around ; but Hendrik was tugging at her arm, urging 
 
2/8 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 her to come with him to the docks where all the 
 town was gathered. Being a lusty chap and impa- 
 tient with excitement, Hendrik gave her enough 
 physical pain to keep her conscious of herself and 
 prevent that going down in a heap which the loveli- 
 est of women have not yet learned to manage with 
 entirely commendable grace. 
 
 Now that Wallace had come in proof of the folly 
 of her fears and anxieties on his account, the eager- 
 ness to confess herself in his arms seemed to have 
 gone with those fears. Moreover, with that perver- 
 sity which is so peculiarly a feminine quality, she 
 passed from self-upbraidings to a criticism of Wal- 
 lace for having sailed away without so much as a 
 note of farewell, and without ever having made the 
 smallest effort to reestablish himself in her favour. 
 Decidedly the fault lay with him, and she would 
 wait with becoming dignity for his recognition of the 
 fact, feeling sure that in their first meeting that 
 triumph would come to her. 
 
 Mastering her emotions and inclinations by a vig- 
 orous exercise of will, she sent Hendrik away, plead- 
 ing that she was too weary for a walk to the docks, 
 and went to her room, resolved that if any one failed 
 of loveliness and charm in the Parade that afternoon 
 it should not be she. 
 
 But Wallace had come from the interview with 
 his father too much stunned by the unexpected vio- 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2/9 
 
 lence of the denunciations hurled at him to have any 
 heart for a tol-de-rol-lol gathering for compliments 
 and levities. He was much more in the mood for 
 hitting out impartially, letting who would feel what 
 the sea's ozone had done for his muscles in the past 
 dozen weeks. He had been humiliated by one upon 
 whom he could not avenge himself in any pride- 
 appeasing way. One must suffer much from one's 
 father, even a certain amount of dishonouring out- 
 rage. But the shame he had felt under the unsparing 
 words gave place to a bitter rebelliousness against 
 the unjust excess of the invective. Though he had 
 sufficiently realised the moral default of his yielding 
 to a temptation to sign his father's name to a scrap 
 of paper, he was, at the same time, conscious of his 
 entire freedom from any worse motive than a desire 
 to save himself from a disgrace that seemed much 
 more hideous than the offer to counteract his father's 
 unreasonableness. He believed that intention was 
 everything, and had imagined that his father would 
 feel rebuked by the knowledge that he had forced 
 him to this desperate act of self-defence. When, 
 therefore, he reflected upon the scene from which he 
 had just come, anger got the better of every other 
 emotion, and he found excellent reason to reproach 
 his father for having turned upon him in this extraordi- 
 nary manner, after having taught him all his life that 
 the money in bank was the same as his own. At 
 
280 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 the same time he felt as humiliated as if the words 
 spoken with such vehemence in the library had 
 slipped maliciously through the open window and 
 gone hurrying about the town to beat in the ears of 
 every mischievous gossip, and he had no present 
 inclination to meet with any one who could question 
 his temper. 
 
 And Luya, peeping through the curtains of her 
 window, saw him pass the house without so much as 
 a glance in its direction, and had an intuitive sense 
 of a wasted hour at the toilet. 
 
 Wallace went directly to Mr. Harmsen's office and 
 promptly tendered his resignation of the captaincy of 
 the privateer. 
 
 "You fint t'e work too hart, he?" Mr. Harmsen 
 asked, in surprise, and inclined to argue the matter. 
 
 " No, Mr, Harmsen, 'tis the pleasantest employ- 
 ment I could ask for myself, and if you know another 
 berth of the kind that wants an occupant I should 
 be glad of your recommendation." 
 
 " Oh, I see," exclaimed Mr. Harmsen, wisely, tak- 
 ing the heavy-rimmed spectacles from his eyes, the 
 better to look at Wallace. " You vant more pay ! 
 Goot cracious ! Mr. Waring, you haf two times petter 
 pay as any o'ter captain in New York ! " 
 
 " Then I dare say you will have small difficulty in 
 finding me an exchange." 
 
 " Ja, t'at may be. Your fat'er has said so ? " 
 

 IN OLD NEW YORK 28 1 
 
 " My father is not concerned in the matter." 
 
 " Got in hemel ! you say t'at ! Your fat'er is not 
 concernt! Haf so much gootness, t'en, to tell me 
 whose fat'er is concernt ? No, no, Mr. Varing, you 
 can't make afdanking, t'at is resignations, unless your 
 fat'er says so." 
 
 " As you please, Mr. Harmsen. But if you let the 
 ship wait for my orders her guns will go into old iron 
 and her hulk into firewood for want of other usage." 
 
 "But, Mr. Varing," Mr. Harmsen expostulated, 
 "it is your fat'er's boat!" 
 
 " Precisely the reason why I can no longer com- 
 mand it. Good day," going out of the door as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " 'Tis tesertions, Mr. Varing ! " Mr. Harmsen 
 called after him, anxiously. "I vant to sent t'at 
 poat out right avay again." 
 
 "You have my leave, Mr. Harmsen, and good 
 adventure attend her," Wallace called back, and 
 turned the corner, going in the direction of the 
 inn. 
 
 As he was nearing the inn, a child's voice cried 
 out behind him : 
 
 Wait, Mr. Wallace ! Wait ! " 
 
 He looked over his shoulder, and saw Hendrik 
 running to overtake him. 
 
 "What is it, Hendrik?" he asked, as the boy 
 came up. 
 
282 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " I want to shake hands with you and say how 
 d'ye do." 
 
 "And how are you, my lad?" Wallace asked, 
 cheerily, taking the boy's hand, and finding a pleas- 
 ure in looking into the smiling face so much in the 
 likeness of another. 
 
 " I'm mighty glad to see you, Mr. Wallace. You 
 know they had begun to say we were not going to 
 see you any more." 
 
 "Who said that, Hendrik?" 
 
 " Oh, everybody. You were away so long." 
 
 "Well, it would not have mattered so much if 
 I hadn't come back, eh, Hendrik ? No one would 
 have missed me long, I dare say." 
 
 "I should have missed you, any way, Mr. 
 Wallace." 
 
 "That would have been very good of you, 
 Hendrik." 
 
 "And I'm sure we all would have missed you, 
 too." 
 
 "And what makes you think that, Hendrik ? " 
 
 " I don't know. I think everybody likes you." 
 
 " Have you heard any one say as much ? " 
 
 " I haven't heard 'em say it. But don't you think 
 they do ? " 
 
 "No doubt of it, Hendrik, no doubt of it. And 
 have you been hearty and happy since I saw you 
 last ? " 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK, 283 
 
 "Oh, I should think so! There is more fun at 
 our house than there used to be. Luya has got to 
 be a regular young lady now, and has people come 
 to parties, and it's ever so much more fun. We had 
 a dance in the big parlour, with men to play the fid- 
 dles, and you should have seen it ! There never 
 could have been anything finer. They let me stay 
 up that night as long as I wanted to, so I didn't go 
 to bed until the last person had gone away." 
 
 "That was Mr. Wilbruch, I suppose?" 
 
 " I don't remember now, but I suppose it was." 
 
 "Mr. Wilburch is in business with your father 
 now, I hear." 
 
 " Yes ; that was Luya's doing. Jacob was going 
 away to school. Don't you think it funny for a big 
 man like Jacob to want to go to school ? Luya must 
 have thought that ; anyway, I heard her talking to 
 Jacob about it one time, and she told him there were 
 too many men who had just been spoiled for anything 
 by going to school too much, and she thought he'd 
 better stay at home, because nobody would think any 
 the more of him for having eaten a lot of books, 
 that's what Luya said, but of course Jacob wasn't 
 going to eat any books. You know Luya says foolish 
 things just for fun." 
 
 " And I hear that Mr. Wilbruch is to be a member 
 of the family." 
 
 " Oh, Jacob is a member of the family. He has 
 
284 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 always oeen. Don't you know that my papa was 
 Jacob's papa when Jacob was a little boy, before I 
 was born ?" 
 
 " Yes, I know that. So your sister is very happy 
 in these days ? " 
 
 "Ever so happy. But don't you think girls are 
 queer ? They cry when they are happy. I'm just 
 the other way, aren't you ? I cry when I am miser- 
 able. This morning when I told Luya that you had 
 come back, and wanted her to go to the docks with me, 
 she wouldn't, and told me to go without her. I went 
 up-stairs to get my ball and bat so I could play with 
 the boys, since Luya wouldn't come along. And 
 while I was looking for them, Luya came into her 
 room, and didn't notice that my door was open, I 
 suppose; and pretty soon I heard " 
 
 " But you mustn't tell me anything your sister 
 might not care to have me know, Hendrik." 
 
 " Oh, Luya doesn't care who knows she's happy. 
 I wouldn't tell you if she wasn't. Well, I heard Luya 
 crying, that's what I heard. Not crying out loud like 
 I cry, but you know the way g ; rls cry. I thought 
 she was sorry for something and that made me sorry, 
 too, so I just tiptoed in, went to her to make her feel 
 better, and put my arms around her neck and com- 
 menced to cry with her, asking her what the matter 
 was. And then, do you know, she patted my cheek 
 and laughed at me, and called me a silly boy, and 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2&5 
 
 said she was only crying because she was so happy. 
 And I asked her what made her so happy that 
 she had to cry, and I bet you can't think what it 
 was ! " 
 
 " No, I can't think what it could have been, Hen- 
 drik ; you'll have to tell me." 
 
 " She said it was because the sea gives back more 
 than it keeps ! Wasn't that a funny thing to cry 
 about ? " 
 
 "Very," Wallace assented, with a smile, but feel- 
 ing a sudden bound of the pulse. " Was that all she 
 said ? " 
 
 " Yes ; she made me go away because she wanted 
 to dress." 
 
 "Do you ever," Wallace began, in a curiously 
 embarrassed way, fearing to betray the extent of his 
 interest, and yet counting on the ingenuousness of 
 Hendrik, " do you ever hear your sister speak about 
 about her friends ? " 
 
 " Of course. She is talking about somebody all 
 the time.", 
 
 " Of course. Mr. Wilbruch, for example." 
 
 " Oh, she doesn't have to talk about Jacob. She 
 just talks to him. He's there so much, you know. 
 And so is Mr. Bradford. He comes almost every 
 day. He's very nice. I don't like Mr. Ashton, 
 though. He called me an urchin." 
 
 " That was most ill-mannered of him. And what 
 
286 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 does your sister say of the friends she does not see 
 so often ? " 
 
 " Oh, she says she would like to see them. But I 
 don't believe Luya has got any friends like that 
 except our folks in Albany. She would like to see 
 them again." 
 
 " And you have never heard her speak of me ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes, a lot." 
 
 " What were some of the things she said ? " 
 
 " I don't exactly know," Hendrik said, having a 
 strong wish to be obliging and polite, yet much dis- 
 turbed by his memory's refusal to serve him with any 
 reliable data ; "but I can think them up. I remem- 
 ber things best when I'm in bed, don't you? I'll 
 know heaps to tell you in the morning." 
 
 " Never mind, Hendrik ; put yourself to no incon- 
 venience of thinking, for I dare say I may think them 
 out as well for myself. We have had a prime gossip, 
 have we not ? And I've walked with you so far be- 
 yond the inn that I shall have a day's journey back. 
 But you have put me into a pleasant humour, Hen- 
 drik, and I'm obliged to you. My compliments to 
 your family." 
 
 " Won't you walk on to see them ? It is such a 
 little way farther." 
 
 " You see, Hendrik, that I am not dressed for com- 
 pany. I shall wait till my appearance is better calcu- 
 lated to please." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 287 ] 
 
 "And if you will see Luya at her best," cried 
 Hendrik, lighting up in a sudden enthusiasm, "you'll 
 need to wait till the ball. I warrant there will 
 be none to stand beside her. She had on the 
 new gown yesterday for trial, and I saw her in it. 
 You should have seen her ! She was just like 
 one of the fairies out of the coloured book Jacob 
 brought me from Boston. I loved her more than 
 ever." 
 
 " So there is a ball preparing ? " 
 
 " Haven't you heard ? It is to be a grand affair. 
 I should have thought you would have heard at the 
 inn, for 'tis to be there next Thursday night, just 
 a week from yesterday." 
 
 " And your sister is going with Mr. Wilbruch ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! with Mr. Bradford." 
 
 Wallace enjoyed a sense of relief, until, recollecting 
 that Jacob was not a dancing man, he admitted 
 that Bradford's going to a dance with Luya was 
 no evidence against the rumour that Wilbruch 
 was "to marry the Vanbergen girl." He shook 
 hands with Hendrik, and turned to retrace his 
 steps, Hendrik going on toward the Parade. But, 
 in a minute or two, Hendrik came running after 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wallace ! I'd like to know if you are to 
 go to the ball." 
 
 " I don't know, Hendrik. Why ? " 
 
288 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "Because I want you to see Luya. And" as 
 if imparting a profound secret " I'm going to try 
 to peek in ! " 
 
 " Well, Hendrik, I dare say I shall manage to ' peek 
 in ' too." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 SEVERAL days having passed without any sign of 
 eagerness on the part of Wallace to renew their 
 friendship, Luya began to have some uneasiness as 
 to the wisdom of her policy, which she confessed 
 was an ungenerous one. She wished that she had 
 obeyed her impulses and made prompt overtures to 
 a reconciliation, and blamed her vanity for having 
 led her to believe that Wallace was so much in sub- 
 jection to her that he could have no choice but to 
 fling away pride and come to beg for pardon where 
 it was his privilege to bestow forgiveness. He 
 seemed to be so far from such a spirit of self-abnega- 
 tion that, so little could she find to the contrary, he 
 gave every evidence of a purpose to ignore her. 
 Indeed, it was not so favourable as that, she argued, 
 because, to ignore, one requires that there be a pur- 
 pose which must have some thought of the person, 
 and Luya could only think that Wallace had become 
 indifferent to her. 
 
 Such reports of him as came to her ears, filtered 
 through the conversations with Hendrik and Jacob 
 and Mr. Vanbergen and Bradford, did not at all give 
 
 289 
 
2QO IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 her the idea of a melancholy young gentleman pining 
 to death with an affection of the heart. He was 
 more than ever gay, it seemed, having added to his 
 natural liveliness of spirit something of a sea-dog 
 joviality that showed itself in a readiness to test any 
 worthy competitor's endurance at the bottle. He 
 was on terms of the best understanding with Miss 
 Bolyston, as one could see with half an eye ; and 
 twice in the mall and once in the Sunday church 
 throng when he was with that lady, Wallace had lifted 
 his hat with a fine sweep in recognition of the stiff 
 little bows which the ladies exchanged, but with no 
 appearance of saluting Luya on his own account. 
 
 To aggravate her discontent, the frivolous Miss 
 Lynn, whose ambition it was to be smartly malicious, 
 but whose wit only allowed her to be tedious, came 
 with her usual budget of scandalous small talk to 
 assure Luya that she had it on the best authority 
 that Mr. Waring, being in threatening straits, had 
 arranged for a redemptive marriage between his son 
 and Miss Boylston. Miss Lynn meant only to be 
 amusingly spiteful at Wallace's expense, as she knew 
 nothing of Luya's inward griefs ; but the gossip was 
 run off in Mrs. Vanbergen's presence, and the excel- 
 lent woman saw how very deeply Luya received the 
 chance thrust, notwithstanding her flippant reply to 
 Miss Lynn. 
 
 The visitor having left them, Mrs. Vanbergen was 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 291 
 
 on the point of making some observations which she 
 thought would prove timely, but hesitated how to 
 begin, a hesitancy accompanied by a hemming to clear 
 the throat which Luya had long ago learned to inter- 
 pret. 
 
 " I see, mamma, that you are thinking to give me 
 a prosing." 
 
 " Would you think it prosing if I offer to counsel 
 you?" 
 
 " I know not what other name you may give it, 
 for I protest I know of nothing more prosy than 
 advice. But if it is a pleasure to you to imagine me 
 again at your apron-strings, it is my pleasure to be 
 there. Now, then, you sweetest of preachers, I am 
 ready," laughingly kneeling in front of her mother, 
 and leaning upon her lap ; " begin but I will not 
 have you talk on any one of six subjects." 
 
 " And what subjects are they ? " 
 
 "I shall name them as you trespass on them." 
 
 " I am afraid I should find myself quite silenced 
 by that means," Mrs. Vanbergen smiled. 
 
 "Then let me be your vicar. I'll talk for you, 
 and lay to heart in the pleasantest manner possible 
 all the wise reflections I shall take from your mind. 
 In the first place I shall heed your wish that I dance 
 but moderately at the ball to-night ; and I shall not 
 quit the room after until I have wrapped the silk 
 scarf twice about my throat " 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Luya, my child," Mrs. Vanbergen interrupted, 
 in a gently chiding way, stroking the ripples of light 
 brown hair over the temples, " do you think you can 
 deceive your mother ? Do you think I cannot look 
 deeper into your heart than where the smiles are ? " 
 
 " And what do you see below the smiles ? " 
 
 " Some of the tears that fall when you are alone." 
 
 " Indeed, mamma, you see but the tears that may 
 be in your own eyes, for I am as free from a reason 
 to weep " 
 
 " As you are from the will to confide in me ? " 
 
 " Nonsense, mamma ! " 
 
 " Exactly what I say, Luya, it is nonsense for you 
 to go on in this stubborn way, beating your heart 
 to pieces against the prejudices of a stupid old man." 
 
 " But my heart is not beating in pieces. It does 
 its work in a very regular and methodical way, I 
 give you my word, mamma. And if it were feeble 
 enough to get out of repair, and fall to doing 
 eccentric things, it shall never be over anybody's 
 prejudices but my own." 
 
 " Do you imagine, Luya, that I do not see that 
 your cheeks are thinner and paler ? " 
 
 " And do you imagine, you blessed trembler, that 
 a girl can play at fashion and keep all the colour 
 and plumpness of a dairymaid ? I have just the 
 modish complexion." 
 
 "Then I could wish you were less modish and 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2Q3 
 
 more in your former contentment. Though, for my 
 life, I cannot see why you need be miserable, for, 
 if you may not have just the man you love the most, 
 let me tell you, Luya, the best fortune for a girl 
 is to get the man who loves her well. To be well 
 loved is better for a woman than to love." 
 
 What Luya might have answered had not Mr. 
 Vanbergen entered the room, Mrs. Vanbergen was 
 left to conjecture. But Mr. Vanbergen having heard 
 and approved his wife's remark, broke in cheerily to 
 declare : 
 
 "Ja, 'tis so! I t'ink t'at vay. You petter haf 
 t'e same opinions, Luya." 
 
 Luya arose, and, kissing her mother's cheek, went 
 to Mr. Vanbergen and said, with mock severity : 
 
 " Papa Vanbergen, when you are about to enter a 
 room where ladies are talking in private, you should 
 make a noise before opening the door." 
 
 " Put you and your moeder ton't count. Besites, 
 I haf talked to your moeder apout t'e very business, 
 and my opinions is her opinions. I t'ink, also, t'at 
 'tis petter for a voomans to love t'an pe lovet. Put 
 you von't tone neiter, for you von't marry Vallace 
 Varing, and you von't marry Jacob ; ant so I say, 
 talking all t'e time as your f at'er " 
 
 " Which it is very impolite of you to do, papa, 
 since you see me anxious to get past you without 
 tipping you over. And I find it most unkind of you 
 
294 IN OLD MEW YORK. 
 
 to reproach me with not having married, when I 
 should have thought you would be glad to keep 
 me with you. But, though you are cruel enough to 
 blame me for my devotion, I have charity enough 
 to forgive you in spite of it." 
 
 She pinched his two lips together while she was 
 speaking, and now kissing one corner of them she 
 left him laughingly, and escaped out of the room. 
 
 " Bonder ! vife, if she von't, vat are ve going to 
 to for kleinzoons ? Ve must haf grantchiltren." 
 
 "The Lord will send them in his own time, 
 Evert." 
 
 " Put he von't sent t'em if somepoty ton't let 
 him know t'at ve vant t'em. You haf to take t'e 
 Lort into your confidences ven you vant him to 
 to you favours." 
 
 " I believe Luya is most unhappy, Evert." 
 
 "Vat you say! A girls as full of amusingness 
 like t'at, unhappy ! Ant going to a tances in a gown 
 t'at cost me twenty pounts ! Unhappy ! How you 
 talk, vife ! Vy shoult she pe unhappy ? " 
 
 " Because Wallace Waring has been home a week 
 without once having called to see her." 
 
 "Tamn Vallace Varing ! I t'ought she hat for- 
 gotten all apout him. I'll go have some talks vit 
 him. I'll pring him pack to her." 
 
 " Bless your soul, Evert, you could do nothing to 
 make Luya more angry with you." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 295 
 
 " Angry vit me for pringing to her t'e man she 
 vants?" 
 
 "Yes, if the man had not come without the 
 bringing." 
 
 "Veil, t'en, vy t'e tuivel she ton't take Jacob? 
 He comes vitout t'e pringing! But t'at's t'e vay! 
 If you gif a voomans vat she vants she ton't vant it, 
 ant t'e ting she can't haf is t'e t'ing she can't lif 
 vitout." 
 
 " How about me, Evert ? " Mrs. Vanbergen asked, 
 putting an arm about his shoulder, and smiling into 
 his troubled face. 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen let the dim frown fade quite out 
 of his forehead, and the habitual smile recovered 
 possession of his lips. 
 
 "You aren't a voomans, you are a angels. You 
 slippet out of heavens ven nopoty vas looking." 
 
 He brushed back the loop of gray hair from her 
 brow, and smoothed her cheek with his chubby hand, 
 gazing upon her with an expression of satisfied own- 
 ership that would have been comical had it not been 
 infinitely tender. Then he took her head between 
 both his hands and kissed her, held her head a little 
 from him to note the effect, and kissed her again. 
 
 " Ve are some happy olt fools, he, vife ? " 
 
 " Old and happy, yes, Evert ; and fools maybe." 
 
 " Veil, 'tis a goot t'ing to pe fools like t'at." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 LUYA, on quitting the room, had found Jacob in 
 the kitchen at the mercy of Hendrik, who was rating 
 him roundly upon his declining interest in the carrier 
 service of the pigeons. Jacob had been in the habit 
 of taking the pigeons once a week to keep them over 
 night, and send them back in the morning with 
 messages bound to their legs. This he had neglected 
 to do for the past two weeks, and Hendrik was com- 
 plaining that the birds would get out of practice, 
 Jacob seriously explaining the unreasonableness of 
 the fear. 
 
 " You must not scold Jacob, Hendrik ; that is my 
 own exclusive privilege. And then, I want him to 
 be in the good humour now to take me for a walk 
 along the Battery. I wish to get my lungs full of 
 sea air, Jacob, to fortify me for the ball to-night. 
 Are you inclined to oblige me with your company ? " 
 
 " I am ready," said Jacob, rising and taking up his 
 hat. 
 
 "Wait for me on the stoop. I shall not be five 
 minutes behind you." 
 
 296 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 2Q/ 
 
 She went to put on the most capricious thing of a 
 bonnet, and joined him with a lavender-coloured, soft 
 crape shawl, draped over her shoulders, the autumn 
 days having begun to lose something of their mild- 
 ness. And she had thrust into her hair a rose that 
 hung down over her ear in the most fascinatingly 
 rowdy fashion, defiantly threatening to quit its place 
 with every motion she made, but giving a coquettish 
 addition to the quiet charm of her toilet. It pleas- 
 antly piqued Jacob, who wondered if she knew that 
 it hung so insecurely, and if he should not offer to 
 put it better in place, but thinking it the prettiest 
 accident that ever perfected beauty. 
 
 They had made some turns up and down, nodding 
 to the other promenaders, but few in number, Luya 
 chatting animatedly, Jacob replying with his usual 
 laconic slowness, when, arriving in front of one of 
 the benches, Luya said, abruptly : 
 
 " Sit down here now, Jacob, and tell me what it is 
 that makes you so prodigiously solemn. I could 
 swear you are in a mind to beat me, you are so very 
 gruff and curt." 
 
 " I, Luya ! " 
 
 " You, Jacob. I see very well you are vexed with 
 me. You are provoked against me, and haven't the 
 art to conceal your displeasure. Well, then, take me 
 to task that I may have the liberty to defend myself ; 
 for I find nothing so detestable as accusations that 
 
298 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 are unanswerable through being unspoken. In what 
 have I offended you, Jacob ? " 
 
 " I don't like to see you unjust, that's all, Luya," 
 Jacob answered, frankly and simply. 
 
 "Unjust!" exclaimed Luya. "Whatever do you 
 mean, Jacob ? " though her look straight ahead and 
 away from him was a distinct confession that she 
 knew well enough what he meant. " I hope you are 
 not going to charge me in enigmas." 
 
 " I mean the way you are treating Wallace Waring." 
 
 " Treating him ! I am having nothing whatever 
 to do with him." 
 
 "That is it. You should have." 
 
 " Really ! And do you know how that gentleman 
 has treated me ? If I had not eyes that will carry 
 at distance, I should not be sure that Mr. Waring is 
 in town at all! I vow, Jacob, I have half a mind 
 to be vexed with you for reminding me how much 
 I am in Mr. Waring's neglect." 
 
 " The fault is yours, Luya. You know very well 
 it is in the heart of no man to neglect you if you 
 give him leave to seek you." 
 
 " Leave, indeed, Jacob ! When Mr. Waring comes 
 to ask my leave " 
 
 " You should not wait for that. You should send 
 to him." 
 
 "Upon my word, Jacob!" said Luya, willing to 
 seem offended, but conscious how little reason she 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 299 
 
 had to play a vain r61e with the downright candour 
 of this man who knew her heart hardly less surely 
 than she knew it herself. 
 
 " You are driving him away from you," Jacob went 
 on, evenly, as if stating the merest commonplaces. 
 "He is as proud as you are. Other friends are 
 kinder to him. Miss Boylston is not so hard to come 
 at. If you turn him away, it would be no marvel if 
 he went to her." 
 
 " And if he were to do that ? " 
 
 " 'Twould be a great pity." 
 
 " You have a mighty sympathy with Mr. Waring, 
 Jacob ! " 
 
 " No ; I haven't thought much about him. But I 
 shouldn't like to see two people spoil their lives over 
 a trifle of pride. You are in the wrong, Luya. It 
 is your place to set things right. He only wants a 
 word from you. Your heart is eager to speak that 
 word. Speak it." 
 
 " Why, Jacob," she said, looking wonderingly into 
 his face, a tone of admiration in her voice, " do you 
 know you are pleading the cause of a rival ? " 
 
 She spoke the last words in hesitating delicacy, 
 putting out her hand to let her fingers rest on his 
 arm. She doubted if he realised in the moment the 
 full meaning of his words. She thought he would 
 have been glad of the estrangement. 
 
 " Not the cause of a rival, Luya," he said, shaking 
 
300 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 his head. "I am pleading only for your happi- 
 ness. I want to see you happy. I haven't any 
 rivals. I should be ready to kill any man who could 
 wrong you, but I could not feel anything but good- 
 will for the man who loves you and whom you love. 
 I want to see you marry the man you love. I can't 
 bear to see you taking a course to break your heart 
 at last. It is your place to make amends, for 
 Wallace doesn't know yet what prompted you to 
 write what you did to him. You haven't explained 
 to him as you have to me, but it is to him that 
 the explanation belongs. He thinks now that it 
 was " 
 
 Jacob stopped, his mind having begun to review 
 a scene in the counting-room the second day after 
 Wallace Waring's return. He was alone at the 
 desk when Wallace came in, and he had risen with 
 a friendly exclamation and an outstretched hand of 
 welcome. 
 
 But Wallace had repelled him with a gesture not 
 altogether courteous. 
 
 "I am not come to shake hands, Mr. Wilbruch. 
 My purpose is rather to settle a doubt at the sword's 
 point, if you cannot persuade me that my suspicions 
 wrong you." 
 
 Jacob looked a moment in surprised study of the 
 calmly angry face before him, then thrust forward 
 a chair and, requesting Wallace to be seated, went 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 301 
 
 to turn the key in the lock. Wallace did not sit 
 down, and Jacob, coming back, stood mildly curious 
 in front of him. 
 
 " What are your suspicions ? " he asked. 
 
 " They concern the pains I think you took to dis- 
 honour me in a lady's eyes." 
 
 "What lady?" 
 
 "There is hardly a need of names between us." 
 
 " You mean Luya ? " 
 
 "I mean Miss Vanbergen," Wallace said, cor- 
 rectively. " You, Mr. Wilbruch, are the only person 
 acquainted with the circumstances of the affair in 
 which you officiously interested yourself, who could 
 have had any motive in making a bad showing of 
 them to the lady I have named. Besides yourself 
 there were only Lieutenant Willett and Mr. Bradford 
 who had knowledge of the facts; and I do not 
 hesitate to point you out as the one to have incensed 
 the lady against me, the others having so little reason 
 to injure me in that direction. The lady wrote me 
 a note of dismissal that proved her to have had the 
 worst aspects of the affair set before her. I come 
 to you at my first opportunity for an explanation." 
 
 Jacob had stood with no other sign than a harden- 
 ing of the face into something more than its habitual 
 gravity, until Wallace had finished. He then crossed 
 the room, unlocked and opened the door, and, hold- 
 ing it ajar, said, quietly : 
 
302 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " You come to the wrong person for an explanation, 
 Mr. Waring." 
 
 " You refuse me an explanation ? " Wallace de- 
 manded, stepping forward, threateningly. 
 
 " I have nothing to explain." 
 
 "Then you shall give me satisfaction. I shall 
 send my friends to you." 
 
 " You may save yourself that trouble. I shall not 
 engage with your friends." 
 
 "You will refuse me the satisfaction I demand 
 of you ? " 
 
 " I owe you no satisfaction. I shall not fight with 
 you. These are business hours. Some one may 
 come. May I ask you to go ? " 
 
 Wallace laughed. 
 
 " I might have known you were a coward as well 
 as a rogue, since none but a coward would pretend 
 to befriend a man in order the better to betray him. 
 So, you will not fight, Mr. Wilbruch. You are con- 
 tent to have gained your point without risk to your 
 skin, and feel secure enough in your possession not 
 to take the peril of defending it. There were small 
 credit in striking you, but, that nothing may be 
 omitted " 
 
 Wallace had raised his hand to slap it into Jacob's 
 face, but it was arrested in its course. Though not 
 wanting in strength himself, he felt that there was 
 more than his master in the grip that held his wrist, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 303 
 
 and he scarcely attempted to release himself from 
 Jacob's grasp. But he looked fiercely enough into 
 Jacob's eyes during the seconds that his wrist was 
 in that vice-like pressure, until suddenly it came 
 upon him that there was something marvellously 
 steady in those gray eyes, and something far from 
 ignoble in the calm, clear face over which not so 
 much as a shadow of anger had passed. And 
 Wallace continued to gaze, after his arm had been 
 released, all that was fine in his own nature rising 
 up to accuse him as against this man, and, before he 
 was aware of his purpose to speak, he had declared : 
 
 "You are not a coward, Wilbruch, and damn me 
 if I can believe you are a rogue ! " 
 
 Then a change, like the light on a leaf which 
 flutters between sunshine and shadow in the breeze, 
 passed swiftly over Jacob's face; but before his 
 thoughts got into words, Wallace, perturbed and 
 uncertain, had gone out at the door still held open for 
 him. 
 
 Jacob, reviewing this scene, and thinking for the 
 hundredth time upon the enlightening things he 
 might have said had his wits been better servants to 
 his will, was brought to take account of Luya's pres- 
 ence by a tug at his coat-sleeve. 
 
 " You are a long time finding what it is that Mr. 
 Waring thinks now ! Where have you sent your 
 mind in chase of him ? " 
 
304 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " I was going to say that he thinks I am in some 
 way to blame for your treatment of him." He put 
 his hands on hers in an apologetic way as he added, 
 " It isn't like you, Luya, to be unjust ; but you are 
 being unjust to three people, most unjust to your- 
 self. You are punishing yourself in making Wallace 
 suffer and you are letting him believe things are 
 true that are not true. I am not saying what I want 
 to say. I don't know how to say things. But you 
 owe it to Wallace to make friends with him. Do it." 
 
 Luya sat silent for a time, looking at a passing 
 sail, and thinking how sensible was Jacob's way of 
 seeing things. She recalled their conversation in the 
 boat at Albany when she had offered to marry 
 him, and he seemed now, as then, a sort of monitor 
 with less than his share of human frailties and pas- 
 sions. 
 
 " Sometimes I marvel at you, Jacob. You are not 
 a man of these days. You belong to the time of 
 knights. You shall be my knight. I'll pin this rose 
 to your breast. You may change it to the coat you 
 will wear at the ball to-night, if it keeps its freshness, 
 and I promise you that before it is quite withered 
 away I shall do my best to make my peace with 
 Wallace." 
 
 She took the rose from her hair, though he would 
 have prevented her, and began pinning it on his 
 breast. 
 
TAT OLD NEW YORK. 30$ 
 
 "You should have left it where it was prettiest," 
 he protested. 
 
 " It is ungenteel of you not to think it pret- 
 tiest where I choose to place it. Oh ! there, you 
 see, your rebellion has made me prick my 
 finger." 
 
 She held up the finger, showing him the tiny drop 
 of blood peeping through the white skin. 
 
 " And pin-points are poisonous," Jacob said, taking 
 ler hand with as much concern as if the affair were 
 erious, and quickly putting his lips to the finger to 
 raw the poison. 
 
 " How foolish of you, Jacob ! " she laughed, half 
 truggling to get her hand free. " Tis nothing. At 
 east you might have let me do it for myself." 
 
 " How perfectly charming a picture ! " some one 
 
 ried, and Luya, starting up and looking behind her, 
 
 aw that Miss Boylston, Wallace, Miss Lynn, and 
 
 Ashton had approached them, crossing from the 
 
 Parade. 
 
 And a thousand pities to have spoiled it ! " Miss 
 simpered. " I vow, Miss Boylston, you should 
 not have spoken." 
 
 "You lent yourself most feelingly to the pose, 
 Miss Vanbergen," Ashton said. "You're quite an 
 adept in the art." 
 
 I am sure," Luya said, covering her embarrass- 
 ment with a mocking gaiety, "that Miss Boylston 
 
306 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 or Miss Lynn may do as well, if you will oblige them 
 with a finger-prick." 
 
 " Oh, 'twas a hurt finger ! " Miss Boylston 
 laughed ; " and the gentleman's lips were laid on as 
 poultices ! 'Tis the very romance of surgery." 
 
 "Egad! I'd turn surgeon for such practice as 
 that," Ashton declared. " What say you, Waring ? " 
 
 Wallace was rather in the vein for wringing necks 
 than for kissing fingers, and might have made some 
 answer not entirely courteous had not Luya, obeying 
 an impulse that was partly the prompting of pride, 
 anticipated him. 
 
 "I am sure Mr. Waring will not need to make 
 himself a surgeon in order to show politeness to a| 
 lady." Then, advancing toward him, and holding 
 out her hand, she added, with a look and a smile that 
 he would have been dull to misunderstand, " I believe 
 I am the last of your friends to welcome you back, 
 but my welcome is not the least sincere." 
 
 He took her hand and bowed over it, and would 
 have released it without a pressure but that her 
 fingers seemed to cling to him. He raised her hand 
 to his lips. 
 
 " Forgive me, Wallace," she whispered. 
 
 He lifted his head and they exchanged glances 
 that were more eloquent than speech ; but, giving 
 him no time to reply in words, she turned to Jacob 
 and said, laughingly : 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 30? 
 
 " Come, surgeon, we will leave these good people 
 to break jests upon us without embarrassment." 
 
 And, taking Jacob's arm, she went up the walk 
 with him, finding the earth surprisingly elastic under 
 her step. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IT was commonly agreed that the ball was a famous 
 affair. No one was invidious enough to pretend to 
 a memory of anything more brilliant in kind. Per- 
 haps more democratic in variety than one or two 
 that had given earlier renown to the Black Horse 
 Inn, it suffered nothing in point of elegance from 
 comparison with any social event in the history of 
 the town. Indeed, the gentlemen and principal mer- 
 chants of the city, in uniting to do honour to the 
 Governor, had resolved to leave nothing undone that 
 could contribute to the celebrity of the fete. Never 
 were so many candles seen blazing to light an equal 
 number of people ; and that the illumination of mind 
 might be no less radiant, wine was to be served by the 
 hogshead. Notable guests had arrived by invitation 
 from Philadelphia and Albany, as well as from Wil- 
 liamsburg and Charleston, and there was a chance Per- 
 sonage come from London to confer with the Governor 
 on certain colonial problems ; so that local dignity 
 was much put to it to preserve a proper distinction. 
 There were some initial perplexities over questions 
 of precedence ; but where the wish to be amiable is 
 
 308 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 309 
 
 superior to every other consideration, difficulties of 
 the sort are easy of adjustment by that simple rule 
 of courtesy which substitutes sensibility for egotism. 
 Good-humour locked arms with gaiety ; and if it be 
 the rule that assemblies are but a tediousness to the 
 flesh and a weariness to the soul, certainly this 
 November night ball, the last which Mr. Todd lived 
 to see under his hospitable roof, had no acquaintance 
 with ennui. 
 
 It is hardly to be denied that there was some of 
 that ostentation of riches which many imagine to be 
 the evidence of a social eminence ; nor need it be 
 pretended that there was no vulgarity decked out in 
 velvets and laces ; but there was much to justify the 
 remark of the Personage to the Governor that he 
 "should not look to find a prettier company in St. 
 James's itself." The beaux were as smart as their 
 London patterns, in their long-skirted coats of rich 
 velvet, in a colour to suit the taste of the wearer ; and 
 had as shapely legs for satin small-clothes and silk 
 stockings, and wore as much Flemish lace in frills 
 and in jabots and at the edges of their white dressed- 
 leather gloves; and carried their beavers tucked 
 under their arms with as secure a grace ; and tilted 
 their silver-hilted swords with as genteel an air of 
 masterful impudence. If a powdered wig magnifies 
 the coarse features of a clown, it also enhances the 
 manly traits of a fine countenance ; and there were 
 
310 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 mere good faces than ill-favoured ones to the share 
 of the gentlemen who moved consciously about to 
 the admiration of the ladies. And charming were 
 these ladies in the latest modes both of dress and of 
 manner brought from the worlds of Paris and London. 
 Stiff bodices and skirts with deep panniers, and 
 hooped petticoats of no great breadth, may be worn 
 with amazing dignity when the rich material in be- 
 coming colours is handsomely brocaded in masses of 
 gold and silver flowers to give it a formal set, and 
 white throats and bosoms show the more enticingly 
 through the parure of jewels for the uncompromising 
 rigidity of a bodice. Happily, the fashion of dressing 
 the hair low was come in, so that the ladies could 
 lend their heads more freely to the animations of 
 conversation and receive a compliment with less bolt- 
 upright effrontery. When a lady may not incline 
 her head without the danger of losing her balance, 
 it is impossible that a flirtation should preserve the 
 delicate bloom of intimacy, without which gallantry 
 is but a process of mathematics. 
 
 Miss Boylston had planned against being eclipsed 
 in the magnificence of her attire, and, as she made 
 her way through the crowded rooms on a tour of 
 fluttering inspection, her smile of satisfaction became 
 more and more graciously engaging. She had espe- 
 cially dreaded the rivalry of Lady Montlevel, a vain 
 body who held a sort of regency over the society of 
 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 31 1 
 
 Philadelphia ; but, in a critical pause beside that 
 lady, she had drawn as deep a sigh of relief as the 
 bondage of her gown allowed and felt a tingling 
 triumph relax her nerves. Not only was the brocade 
 weighting down her skirt in a larger pattern of silver 
 and gold, but her diamonds were as large and more 
 numerous, and Miss Boylston did not for an instant 
 question the superiority of her beauty to that of the 
 Lady Montlevel. If her reassured vanity had any 
 lingering fears, they were dispelled by the exclama- 
 tions of admiration she overheard from all sides as 
 she passed on Lieutenant Willett's arm. She had 
 nearly completed the reconnaissance of the company, 
 and her spirits were rising to their liveliest flow, 
 when the lieutenant abruptly directed her attention 
 to a group on the left by demanding : 
 
 " Who the deuce is that beauty ? " and, before she 
 had time to answer, he continued, " As I'm a sinner, 
 it is the Vanbergen ! Gad ! she's prodigious ! I 
 had not thought she could make so devilishly fine a 
 figure!" 
 
 " Artful minx ! " Miss Boylston said, half aloud, 
 after a quick but comprehensive survey of the offend- 
 ing object, and led the lieutenant in the opposite 
 direction. 
 
 Luya, as the lilies of the field, was arrayed in 
 simplicity. Her hair, gathered back loosely from 
 her forehead, had neither sprig nor hairpin for orna- 
 
312 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 ment. Her gown, of dim blue stuff woven with a 
 silver silk brocade in a delicate pattern of vines and 
 buds, had no other relief than the clouds of cobweb 
 lace falling down from her sleeves. Her only jewelry 
 was the coil of large gold beads at her throat. She 
 might have stepped from the missal of a Franciscan 
 monk, save that there was much too worldly a light 
 in her eyes, and too little religious mystery in her 
 smile. An artful minx, truly, since she knew very 
 well with what care she had gone about setting her- 
 self in the completest possible contrast to Miss Boyls- 
 ton, conscious that she could not compete with her 
 in display. But Luya's success was greater than 
 her hope of pleasing had led her to anticipate, and 
 when the Governor himself came to beg the honour 
 of dancing a measure with her, it was not in nature 
 that she should be unmoved by the fact that Wallace 
 and Miss Boylston were ranged in the same set with 
 her. It seemed to her that she had never laughed 
 so easily, talked so wittily, nor timed her feet so per- 
 fectly to music in all her life. But something in 
 the regard of Wallace may have had to do with her 
 lightness. 
 
 The passion for gambling was much too keen to 
 be put under restraint to the most frivolous of the 
 Muses, and there were tables conveniently placed for 
 those who preferred cards to dancing. Most of these 
 tables were occupied by eager players of both sexes, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 313 
 
 and at one of them Lieutenant Willett had been 
 playing for some time with Ashton, young Vinton 
 Spencer, who, it turned out, had behaved rather 
 valiantly at Louisburg, and two gentlemen not of 
 our acquaintance. 
 
 " You keep your old luck at cards, I see, lieuten- 
 ant," Spencer remarked, as Willett took up his win- 
 nings from the last play. 
 
 "I call it by the name of skill, Spencer. 'Tis 
 judgment, not luck, that gives man the advantage." 
 
 "You say that to escape the butt end of the 
 adage," Ashton laughed. "You would not have 
 us think you can be without luck in love." 
 
 " As for that, I think love to be as much a matter 
 of judgment as cards themselves. I should as soon 
 play blindfold at the one as at the other." 
 
 "I should like to have your application of that 
 theory to your affair with Miss Boylston," said Ash- 
 ton, sotto voce, "for I'm tempted to back Waring's 
 luck against your judgment in that direction." 
 
 "You would lose," replied Willett, in the same 
 low tone, " for I am about to play a card which will 
 turn the account very much against the chances of 
 Mr. Waring." 
 
 "You are speaking of Waring?" asked Spencer, 
 catching at the name. " Is it true, as I hear, that 
 his father's misfortunes have thrown him upon his 
 own resources ? " 
 
314 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Something has," said Ashton. 
 
 "I'm devilish sorry to hear it," said Spencer, with 
 great sincerity. 
 
 " I had supposed you would have another opinion," 
 Willett said, dryly, as he dealt out the cards anew. 
 
 Spencer's colour heightened a little. 
 
 " Faith, no," he said ; " I'm never pleased to see 
 a gentleman out of countenance with himself. But 
 I had thought his father a man of uncommon 
 wealth." 
 
 "A man's fortune is always exaggerated by the 
 town's gossip," Willett observed, sagely. " But, let 
 the reason be what it may, old Waring is no longer 
 correcting the infirmities of his son's purse, and is 
 having much ado, I'm told, to keep his own from 
 gaping." 
 
 "That comes of a gentleman's taking to trade at 
 a time of life when he should be content to pipe 
 for others to dance," one of the two other players 
 ventured to say. 
 
 " Quite the fact, Cornish," Ashton laughed. " As 
 'tis, our friend Wallace will have to resort to the 
 bankrupt's providence." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "A rich marriage." 
 
 " That will explain his devotion to Boylston's gilded 
 butterfly." 
 
 "Devil take it, Cornish," expostulated the lieuten- 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 315 
 
 ant, " I'd remind you to be more respectful. Because 
 Waring is chasing after a fortune is not a reason to 
 speak lightly of every lady he may think to make his 
 victim ! " 
 
 " I spoke in admiration, not in lightness, Willett. 
 I know but three grades of women, angels, butter- 
 flies, and devils, and, as I hate extremes, I think 
 the best of the sex is the middle." 
 
 "By George, I'm half of your opinion," Ashton 
 said, " though I'm not averse to a touch of the devil 
 to take out the insipidity. And, if you'll allow me 
 to say so, Willett, I think the lady we speak of is not 
 without a flavour of brimstone, else how the deuce 
 should you expect to come near her ? " 
 
 "For my part," Spencer ventured, "I've seen no 
 woman yet without something of the angel in her, 
 and I dare say " 
 
 "Don't," interposed Willett, "you are yet too 
 confoundedly young, Spencer, to deliver homilies on 
 the sex." 
 
 "And I'll be bound that Waring will find the 
 merit of an angel in the devil's own hag, if she bring 
 him gold enough in her dowry." 
 
 This elegant sally from Ashton provoked a laugh 
 about the table, and a titter in the circle of onlookers 
 attracted by the spirited play and the voluble indiffer- 
 ence of the players to the caprices of the cards. 
 
 " Here is Waring now," said Spencer, confiden- 
 
3l6 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 tially, " but I find him in better company than Ash- 
 ton has named for him." 
 
 Wallace came up at that instant with Miss Boyls- 
 ton, who was in quest of the lieutenant. 
 
 " La, gentlemen, are you all winners, that you are 
 so merry over your game ? " asked Miss Boylston. 
 
 "Faith, no, Miss Boylston," said Ashton, "and I 
 am so much out of humour that I could quarrel with 
 so charming a creature as yourself for suspecting me 
 to be in mirth." 
 
 "La, Mr. Ashton," Miss Boylston laughingly de- 
 clared, " if there is any talk of quarrelling by a gen- 
 tleman so even-tempered as yourself, it must be 
 that the cards have treated you but shabbily indeed." 
 
 " I have known them more obliging. But they and 
 the lieutenant seem bent on my ruin to-night." 
 
 "Then I am come in time to your rescue, for I 
 have him on my tablets for the next dance." 
 
 "And I shall be grateful, too, Miss Boylston," 
 Spencer exclaimed, " for, if he stop, I shall not have 
 pence enough left to throw to a beggar in another 
 hour." 
 
 "You should quit the fellowship of cards, taking 
 pattern by Mr. Waring's virtue, who has quite for- 
 sworn them." 
 
 " 'Tis not an effect of virtue," Wallace admitted, 
 smilingly, "I am under compulsion." 
 
 " Oh, but virtue is generally the fruit of obligation. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 317 
 
 Will you take some consolation for your losses, Mr. 
 Ashton?" tendering him her jewelled snuff-box as 
 she spoke. 
 
 "I have long desired to have the privilege to 
 have my fingers in your box," he said, accepting the 
 favour. 
 
 " 'Tis not free to every one, believe me ; but I 
 remember I had a pinch from your tabatttre when 
 you were pleased to have us try a new French 
 powder. This, I am assured, is the very sort made 
 for the particular use of the King of Spain." 
 
 " Might I make the experiment of a grain or two ? " 
 Spencer asked, reaching out a predatory thumb and 
 finger. 
 
 " Indeed, no, Mr. Spencer," Miss Boylston replied, 
 withdrawing her box as if greatly concerned for its 
 contents. " 'Tis a powder much too precious to be 
 wasted in the nostrils of a novice. But come, lieu- 
 tenant, if the gentlemen will excuse you, for I 
 hear the fiddles scraping ; and since I've been at the 
 trouble to seek you, I'm not in the humour to miss 
 my favourite cotillion." 
 
 " Egad, Miss Boylston, I take it as a great unkind- 
 ness your insinuating that I need persuasion. Upon 
 my word, Sophie," he whispered in her ear as they 
 moved away, " you have but to crook your finger to 
 have me follow you to the " 
 
 " And upon my word, Lieutenant Willett," she 
 
3l8 IN OLD NEW YORK, 
 
 interrupted, " I am not greatly obliged to you for 
 the intimation. I should think better of you for pre- 
 venting me going in the direction." 
 
 " I was going to say to the altar," he urged. 
 
 " La, lieutenant, there was nothing so religious in 
 your tone. But I am as like to lead you in the one 
 direction as in the other, for I'll swear I have no 
 thought of taking you to church." 
 
 " Because of Wallace Waring ? " 
 
 "That question is as stupid as it is impertinent. 
 But for the sake of something to say, suppose it were 
 because of him ? " 
 
 " I would ask you how you are going to dispose of 
 the other's claim." 
 
 " What other ? The piece of Holland china ? " 
 
 " Humph ! no. I was thinking of a more substan- 
 tial obstacle, though I spoke without reflection." 
 
 " Then, on reflection, who do you mean ? I've not 
 seen him attentive to any one so very formidable." 
 
 " No, egad ! 'twas managed most discreetly, and 
 yet not well enough to escape consequences of an 
 unexpected sort." 
 
 "I detest equivocation, lieutenant. Who is the 
 creature ? " 
 
 " Claudine Lambert." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " 'Tis a fact, upon my honour/ 1 
 
 " A garden wench ! " 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK:. 319 
 
 "But a very pretty one, you must allow, and 
 not a vulgar sort." 
 
 "I vow, lieutenant, I have no faith in what you 
 say." 
 
 "Then you may take your incredulity to the 
 father. The girl is gone into retreat, taking 
 French leave ; but she left a note in which Wallace 
 Waring's name was writ plainly enough for the most 
 skeptical." 
 
 " Indeed, lieutenant, I know not how to thank 
 you ; but you shall see in the zest of my dancing 
 that I am obliged to you to the tips of my toes 
 for a most considerable service." 
 
 The lieutenant's spirits went up to the major pitch. 
 He felt that officer and gentleman had never made 
 spurious draft on honour with better justification. 
 As for such things as scruples and conscience, 
 well, if the stratagem were not to pass for a jest 
 when his ends were served, he would very willingly 
 make such moral amends as the circumstances should 
 demand. In the meantime, it was pleasant to think 
 with what ease a rival had been set out of range. 
 
 But had the lieutenant been able to catch the drift 
 of the lady's thoughts he would have been teased 
 to find that the sparkle in her eyes which had so 
 enchanted him was the reflection of an entirely he- 
 retical sentiment. Miss Boylston was thinking to 
 herself, "If a girl is fool enough to let herself be 
 
32O IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 made a toy of, I care not a fig's end if she have the 
 shame of it, nor do I think the less of a gentleman 
 for eating the silly peach that drops in his hat. But 
 the pert Vanbergen was always a sentimental sort of 
 ninny, with the crudest possible principles of right 
 and wrong. It would be quite like her to turn her 
 back on a man because of a peccadillo, and fall into 
 a horror over an infirmity. 'Tis a thousand pounds 
 to a penny but she will send Wallace to Bceotia if I 
 drop but so much as a hint of this in her ear. 'Tis 
 a pity I'm not on friendlier terms with her. But she 
 shall come at the news by some means." 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 WALLACE did not find the opportunity for the 
 exchange of more than a passing bow with Luya 
 until the evening was well advanced. But he got at 
 last the favour of sitting out a dance with her ; and, 
 though it was impossible to find a corner sufficiently 
 secluded for the nicer requirements of a reconcilia- 
 tion, they came to very good terms in the course of 
 half an hour. The explanations did not proceed very 
 far, for the reason that neither of them felt the need 
 of justifying the concerted beating of their hearts, 
 nor the all-forgiving rapture of their eyes. Luya 
 had said : 
 
 " I have so much to confess to you that I know 
 not where to make a beginning." 
 
 Wallace had replied : 
 
 " Begin with the confession that you love me." 
 
 They found so many ways between them for the 
 confession of this one veniality that they did not 
 come to the bitter-sweet of mutual reproaches of 
 their follies in the past two or three months. And 
 while they were in the world-ignoring serenity of 
 their common content, Mr. Waring, passing from 
 
 321 
 
322 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 one room to another, came upon them and stopped, 
 involuntarily, a few feet away in the moment of sur- 
 prise. Father and son had not met since Wallace 
 had been ordered from the house. Wallace rose 
 deferentially, and inclined his head, and would have 
 been glad to reach out his arms for the embrace of 
 pardon ; but Mr. Waring, having looked coldly and 
 emptily at Wallace, passed on into the next room, 
 seeming grayer and more slender than ever in the 
 showy richness of his party dress. 
 
 " How bitter your father is against me ! " Luya 
 sighed, a sudden check put upon her gaiety. 
 
 "It is not against you but against me that he feels 
 bitterness." 
 
 " But it is on my account." 
 
 " No, it has nothing to do with you. It reminds 
 me, however, that I owe it to you to say that I am 
 henceforth to deal with the world on an independent 
 footing. It is no longer a rich man's son you have 
 for a lover, but a slim-pursed beggar whose wits are 
 his only capital." 
 
 "Well," she said, looking up sidewise at him a 
 little roguishly, "you told me once that you could 
 succeed in anything you would set your mind to 
 accomplish." 
 
 " So I said, Luya, and, egad ! so I can ; and I 
 have some ideas I think will level a road to the end 
 I seek. But the plague of it is that time is needed 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 323 
 
 to bring any enterprise to its fruitage. I know not 
 how many years will be demanded to fit me for 
 taking a wife." 
 
 " And what is to fit you for that ? " 
 
 "Fortune, Luya; for I will marry no girl above 
 me in fortune." 
 
 "Then your vanity is greater than your love. 
 Why should not the woman bring the money to 
 balance with the man's talent ? " 
 
 " Because, though the world is so blinded by the 
 glitter of the golden calf that it cannot recognise 
 honour apart from money, it is so stupid in its 
 idolatry as to despise the fellow who marries to 
 get money." 
 
 " And so it should. But to marry the woman you 
 love, in spite of her money, is a vastly different 
 affair. Yet, as for that," she said, edging a little 
 nearer to him, and looking with sweet seriousness 
 into his eyes, " I am willing to be as poor as you 
 will have me. My father's money is not mine, and is 
 no blight on me, I hope. And what my husband's 
 fortune is it would be my pride to share, if so I 
 might help him to its betterment." 
 
 " Luya," he said, with a sudden purpose to test 
 her devotion, " my father has cast me to the devil, 
 or to what better patron I may find, and his consent 
 to my marriage or any other undertaking is no 
 longer to be considered. Marry me ! Become my 
 
324 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 wife in these next two months, and we will start life 
 as many another lucky couple has done, with the 
 Bank of England in our hearts, and God's blessing in 
 our pockets ! Though, to be honest with you, I have 
 four hundred pounds of prize-money in the bank as 
 the foundation of my business career. I'll rank with 
 the best of them at the end of ten years, if you'll 
 put your smiles into the enterprise. What say you, 
 Luya ? Dare you put your theory into the practice ? " 
 
 "I must have some days to consider," she an- 
 swered, looking down and idly beating at her knees 
 with her fan. " One must be wise when one does 
 things that other people think foolish." 
 
 He chose to misunderstand her, and put a wrong 
 construction on the smile which parted her lips, a 
 smile that might have told him of her readiness to 
 begin the mutual struggle on the morrow, were she 
 alone to be thought of. 
 
 " Faith, you are right ! I was born under the fool 
 star, like the girl in the play, and they are but 
 doltish notions that skip out of my head. But come ! 
 There is Bradford waving his glove at us. They are 
 forming for a country dance. May I have you 
 before another claims you ? " 
 
 She went with him, at once bewildered and a little 
 hurt by his change of manner, but, withal, too happy 
 to let it disturb her long, and as they took their 
 places in the forming line her face was radiant again. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORX. 325 
 
 Luya's position was the fourth from the end when 
 the lines were completed ; but, just as the musicians 
 were giving their initial flourish, Miss Boylston came 
 hurrying up on the arm of Mr. Cornish, and, with 
 the scantiest ceremony, pushed into the place above 
 Luya. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Miss Boylston," Luya said, 
 after an instant's hesitation, and bridling as she 
 spoke, "but your place is at the foot of the line." 
 
 " Oh ! " rejoined Miss Boylston, with easy impu- 
 dence, and a self-complacent glance about her, "I 
 think I have the right to dance before Miss Van- 
 bergen." 
 
 " If the rule that estimates a woman, as we do a 
 carrot, by the length of root she has underground, 
 may entitle you to precedence on other occasions, it 
 does not permit you to push ahead of me in a dance 
 already begun. Besides, when did it come about that 
 a Boylston has precedence of a Vanbergen, unless 
 in the matter of impudence ? " 
 
 Though Luya spoke in a tone only to be heard 
 distinctly by Miss Boylston, it was evident to the 
 others that the ladies were at a misunderstanding, 
 and Miss Boylston left no further doubt of its nature 
 in her angry retort upon Luya. 
 
 " La, Miss Vanbergen, if you think I am not enti- 
 tled to a place above you, you may appeal to the 
 company." 
 
326 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 Luya was now more ashamed of her part in the 
 scene than angry at the effrontery of Miss Boylston ; 
 but the general attention having been directed to 
 her in this manner, she determined to maintain her 
 privilege. 
 
 " I do appeal to the company," she said, " if a lady 
 may choose her place to the disadvantage of another 
 after a dance is begun ? " 
 
 The head couple had stopped in the midst of the 
 first figure, and the dance was waiting the settlement 
 of a dispute which threatened a general embarrass- 
 ment. Several of those about her graciously offered 
 to convince Miss Boylston that the convention of the 
 ballroom did not support her claim ; but the lady, 
 too proud to yield herself defeated, and rather more 
 handsome than usual for her heightened temper, 
 vowed her purpose to hold a place to which she 
 believed herself entitled, though protesting that she 
 rather would have died than be the occasion to such 
 inconvenience, could she have foreseen the possibility 
 of her rights being brought into question. 
 
 Luya, though her pride smarted under the affront, 
 was unwilling to sacrifice the pleasure of the com- 
 pany to the vindication of her title to the contested 
 place. Seeing that Miss Boylston was to prove 
 unreasonable, she signalled to Wallace her wish to 
 retire, a signal which Miss Boylston noted with a 
 sense of triumph. But this triumph was succeeded 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 327 
 
 by vexation and an angry biting of the supercilious 
 upper lip when Wallace, having offered his arm to 
 Luya, said, bowing ceremoniously about him : 
 
 "I consent to Miss Vanbergen's retirement be- 
 cause I think she has more honour in yielding than 
 another can have in usurping the place to which 
 Miss Vanbergen had an unquestionable right." 
 
 This speech was balsam to Luya's spirit, and she 
 recovered zest enough under it to say, with a smile 
 that was almost good-humoured : 
 
 " I hope no one will dance any the less merrily for 
 the delay you have had in beginning, and that I leave 
 behind me no more ill-will than I bear away." 
 
 The incident had passed so quickly and quietly 
 that no attention was attracted to it from beyond the 
 set, and, a minute after Wallace and Luya had strolled 
 away, the interrupted dance was begun again. 
 
 Suddenly one of the big guns from the Fort 
 boomed out with a shock that made the building 
 tremble. The report was followed by another and 
 another, so rapidly that the startled assembly was 
 thrown into the greatest confusion. Alarm was exag- 
 gerated into terror, for every one recognised in this 
 ominous roar of cannon the announcement of a dan- 
 ger or a disaster. There was a rush for the doors 
 and the windows, men and women in equal anxiety 
 demanding one of another what the explosions could 
 mean. Some imagined that the town was being 
 
328 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 attacked by the war-ships which the French were 
 supposed to have despatched to avenge the fall of 
 Louisburg; others that the town was again at the 
 mercy of a negro uprising. There was great commo- 
 tion in the streets, too, the clatter of horses being 
 ridden at a headlong pace ; the clamour of men and 
 boys, which was all the more terrifying because the 
 cries were indistinguishable. Ladies and gentlemen 
 ran down from the ballroom into the streets, vainly 
 trying to gather some information from the excited 
 people hurrying to and fro. To the demand, " Are 
 we being attacked ? " came some ambiguous reply, 
 " God knows who is being attacked ! The French 
 have gotten England." 
 
 But after the three guns, the cannon were silent, 
 and from this silence the people took courage. How- 
 ever grave the situation that could warrant this alarm- 
 ing of the town, the danger was not immediate. With 
 this confidence came more cool-headed inquiry and 
 more intelligent replies. A merchant-ship had just 
 arrived from England, and the captain had rowed to 
 shore, bringing to the Fort the news of a great calam- 
 ity. The English army had been utterly defeated, 
 annihilated by the French and Scotch forces, led by 
 Prince Charles Edward, the Young Pretender. There 
 had been a veritable massacre of English troops at 
 Prestonpans, and the young prince was marching his 
 victorious forces against London. He had arrived 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. $2$ 
 
 within thirty miles of the capital, and, as the king's 
 armies were in Flanders, it was believed the city 
 would have to yield, for want of defenders. The 
 people of London were in such consternation that 
 the banks and the shops were left unopened Funds 
 had gone down ruinously in the prospect of a general 
 bankruptcy. It was thought the throne must needs 
 fall again into the hands of a Stuart, an event which 
 could mean nothing less than that the French were 
 to be masters. Indeed, one of King Louis's very 
 conditions in lending support to the prince was the 
 ceding to the French of three English ports, and 
 there were to be colonial concessions as well. Who 
 could say but New York itself would go into the 
 measure of compensation ? Long before this, no 
 doubt, the question was decided, and the next vessel 
 arriving might fetch news of a Stuart installed at St. 
 James's Palace. 
 
 This story was told to the excited listeners in the 
 ballroom against innumerable interruptions and with 
 a multitude of stirring details. The effect upon the 
 merchants varied with their interests, but most of 
 them were stunned by the magnitude of the disaster, 
 and they thought with dread and foreboding of to- 
 morrow morning's transactions in the Exchange. 
 
 Stephen Waring was strangely affected. He had 
 listened to the recital with strained attention, inter- 
 posing no questions, making no comment, his intent 
 
330 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 look and the pallor of his cheeks giving his face the 
 appearance of a mask. But he was murmuring in an 
 inarticulate monotone that scarcely moved his lips, 
 " Funds have gone to nothing ; funds have gone 
 to nothing ; ruin ; ruin ! " He stood with his arm 
 about one of the slender supporting columns of the 
 room, and continued standing there after the recital 
 was ended and the rooms began clearing, and was 
 standing there when Luya and Wallace came by. 
 On seeing Luya, the blood came back into his face, 
 and his eyes sparkled angrily. 
 
 " Oh, you come to laugh at me, do you ! You 
 you, Miss Vanbergen ! You think I am under the 
 wheel, eh ? You think this will finish me ? So it 
 will so it will ! Laugh, laugh ! I shall not have 
 a farthing in the world this time to-morrow night, 
 no doubt ! It is most grotesque, is it not, Miss Van- 
 bergen ? But you may take the credit of my ruin 
 when it comes ! I laughed at your imbecile father 
 when he turned on me to please his daughter. I was 
 very wrong, Miss Vanbergen, and it is your turn to 
 laugh now ! Laugh, laugh ! I could laugh with you 
 for a sixpence ! " 
 
 Luya was frightened, not so much by the dis- 
 ordered speech as by the manner of Mr. Waring, 
 who looked at her with fixed eyes as if quite uncon- 
 scious that she was clinging to the arm of his son. 
 He seemed not to see Wallace at all. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 331 
 
 " You are much mistaken ; indeed, you are much 
 mistaken, Mr. Waring," Luya said, taking a step or 
 two toward him, in spite of her fear. " I know not 
 who may be hurt by this news ; but I hope with all 
 my heart " 
 
 "I know I know," Mr. Waring interrupted. 
 "You'd like to pity me! You'd like to play the 
 Samaritan ! You'd like to pour oil in my wounds ! 
 I know ! Very pretty ! There is a saintly sort of 
 devil under that white skin of yours, down behind 
 those blue eyes of yours ! But I'm not on the rack 
 yet. Keep your sympathies till I need them, and 
 then I shall not be mocked by them." 
 
 Wallace felt a grave anxiety on his father's 
 account. It filled him with a vague alarm to see 
 him there motionlessly holding by the column and 
 pouring out this incoherent talk. He had several 
 times addressed Mr. Waring during the second out- 
 burst, without once attracting a glance from those 
 fever-lighted eyes, and he now took him gently by 
 the arm. 
 
 " Come, father, you are not yourself. Let me help 
 you home." 
 
 " What the devil business is it of yours ? If I had 
 the money you have robbed me of all these years, 
 I might breast this gale which is trying to blow me 
 to the ends of the earth ! " 
 
 "You don't know what you are saying, father. 
 
332 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 Come with me. Things may not be as bad as first 
 reports have made them. The next ship in may 
 bring better news." 
 
 " And if it should, what then ? Who will keep 
 my head up till the ship comes in? And what 
 would good news profit me unless I could have it 
 in advance of any one else ? Let go my arm ! If 
 you want to serve me, get me news in advance. I'll 
 give you a thousand pounds an hour for news in 
 advance that this vagabond prince and his French 
 mob have been fed to the crows of England. That 
 is the only service that I ask of you." 
 
 Mr. Waring suddenly let go the column, pushed 
 Wallace aside, and went toward the door, walking 
 with a quick, firm step, as if age and anxiety had 
 been at once thrown off. 
 
 "Leave me go with him!" Luya pleaded to 
 Wallace, in a nervously excited way, and, before he 
 could answer, she ran from him toward Bradford, 
 who was coming to seek her. 
 
 " Take me home ! " she cried. 
 
 But when, making his way through the crowd 
 about the cloak-room, he had at last got her mantle, 
 she said : 
 
 "I want to see the sailor who brought the news. 
 Take me to find him." 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MR. VANBERGEN had been aroused from his sleep 
 by the noise of the cannon, and was standing wonder- 
 ingly at a window, debating with Mrs. Vanbergen 
 whether he should dress and go out to learn the 
 cause of the unusual disturbance. After half an 
 hour of indecision, his curiosity was getting the 
 better of his disinclination, and he had begun a 
 leisurely putting on of his garments when Jacob 
 came knocking at the front door. 
 
 Mr. Vanbergen thrust his head through the open 
 window. 
 
 "Who is t'ere?" 
 
 "Jacob." 
 
 "Vat is t'e trouples?" 
 
 " Bad news from England." 
 
 " Vait some minutes. I let you in." 
 
 In a few minutes, seated in the great kitchen with 
 the shadows mocking at the single candle-light, Jacob 
 was telling to Mr. and Mrs. Vanbergen the news of 
 the war and the commotion it had occasioned in the 
 town. When he had finished, there was a silence 
 for some time. Mr. Vanbergen went to the chimney- 
 
 333 
 
334 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 piece and took down his pipe and tobacco. He 
 lighted the pipe from the candle-flame and ruminat- 
 ingly puffed at it a dozen or- twenty times, watching 
 the smoke coil up to the rafters. 
 
 "Veil, I tell you somet'ings, Jacob. Tis a pat 
 news. But more for ot'er people as for us. Ve haf 
 not peen in some speculations in t'e Exchange like 
 some of our frients. Ve haf tone pusiness in t'ings 
 t'at ve coult get our hants on. Ve haf not bottert vit 
 stocks and funts ant t'em foolishness. Our goots 
 vill keep. Ve may haf some trouples and lose some- 
 t'ings, put t'at is pusiness chances all t'e same. It 
 ton't make much tifferences vit our pusiness vedder 
 t'e king is namet George or Charlie or Louis. T'e 
 same kint of rum is goot to trink t'e healt' of tiffer- 
 ent peoples. T'e vorlt must haf topacco ant tea ant 
 pelts ant all t'em t'ings t'at ve haf to gif t'em. If 
 t'ey ton't vant t'em to-tay, t'ey vill gif more for t'em 
 to-morrow. Ve hafn't got plenty of reasons for ex- 
 citements, Jacob. I alvays tolt myself I vas not 
 a fools to keep avay from t'e Exchange ven t'ey puy 
 ant sell some t'ings t'at a'n't not'ings. Ven I puy 
 somet'ing you can veigh it ant measure it, Jacob. 
 Ven I gamples, I roll t'e powls myself. So I t'ink 
 ve sent t'at ship to Virginia for t'at topacco to-mor- 
 row just t'e same as if King George vas on t'e t'rone. 
 Put I am sorry, Jacob, for some ot'er peoples. Some- 
 poty vill haf to smoke t'eir pipes vit'out topacco. I 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 335 
 
 suppose t'at Mr. Varing vill pe one of t'em. Veil, 
 vife, you must not t'ink t'at I am an unkint fat'er 
 ven I tell you t'at I am sorry for Mr. Varing, too." 
 
 " How can you have such an idea, Evert ! " Mrs. 
 Vanbergen remonstrated. " Do you think Luya no 
 better Christian than a Manhattan ? " 
 
 " Oh, ja, Luya is goot Christians. Put ven a man 
 fools vit a girl in love " Mr. Vanbergen suddenly 
 remembered Jacob's feelings, and, in his momentary 
 confusion, sucked at the flame of the candle to light 
 his already glowing pipe. 
 
 " But what if the bank should have trouble ? " 
 Jacob asked. 
 
 "Oh, t'en ve voult haf trouple, too. Put Mr. 
 Poylston is like me, Jacob, a very careful pusiness 
 mans. Ton't haf some fears apout him. He vill 
 manatge." 
 
 Some further talk was interrupted by an impera- 
 tive knocking at the door. 
 
 "Tat's Luya's knockings," said Mr. Vanbergen, 
 going to let her in. 
 
 She hurriedly bade Bradford good night and fol- 
 lowed her father into the kitchen, demanding on the 
 way if he had heard the news. 
 " Ja ; Jacob haf tolt me." 
 
 " Then you have talked the matter over. What 
 have you decided to do ? " 
 
 " Tecitet to to ! " Mr. Vanbergen exclaimed, as 
 
336 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 they entered the kitchen. " Ve haf tecitet to go on 
 vit t'e pusiness joost as effer ! Goot cracious, Luya, 
 t'e vorlt haf not stopped rolling arount ! T'e firm of 
 Vanbergen ant Vilbruch haf not movet ! " 
 
 " Father, Mr. Waring will need help. He must 
 not be allowed to go down if we can prevent it. I 
 want you to do me a favour, the greatest possible 
 favour. I want you to save Mr. Waring." 
 
 " Save Mr. Varing ! Got in hemel, Luya ! Vat 
 are you saying ! How can I safe Mr. Varing ? " 
 
 "A ship was to sail from Portsmouth four days 
 after the brig that came in to-night. The brig lost 
 two days in crossing so that in two days we may 
 expect more news from England." 
 
 "Ja, Luya, but " 
 
 " Much may have happened in the four days. 
 The news we have may be exaggerated. You must 
 help Mr. Waring over the two days and he must have 
 the next news, if it be good news, in advance of 
 any one else." 
 
 "T'e girls is mat!" said Mr. Vanbergen, sinking 
 into a chair and looking aghast at her excited face, 
 which appeared to him spectral in the scant light. 
 
 " No, I am not mad, father ; but I have a plan to 
 save Mr. Waring and we must we shall save 
 him. You have a vessel ready to go to Virginia in 
 the morning. Well, you will start out as you in- 
 tended, and as if you were going to Virginia, bait yu 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 337 
 
 will sail to meet the ship coming from England. You 
 will meet her as far out as possible. You know the 
 course of their sailing. You will get her news and 
 send it at once " 
 
 " Mat ! " groaned Mr. Vanbergen. " Sent t'e news 
 at vonce ! " 
 
 "Yes, by the pigeons. You will take Hendrik's 
 pigeons with you. We will get them into the basket 
 now, and I'll arrange a cipher for the message. You 
 will send off the first pigeon as soon as you have 
 made out the ship. I inquired the name. It is the 
 Hester. Mr. Bradford and I hunted down the captain 
 of the brig, who gave us all the particulars, so there 
 can be no mistake. She is a fast sailer. She can't 
 be far out. By meeting her we can gain a day ; we 
 can have the news fifteen, twenty hours in advance 
 of any one else, and that will mean a fortune. You 
 will go, father ; you will do this for me ! You'll go ! 
 You'll do it ! Say you will do it ! " 
 
 " Vy, Luya, I might miss t'at topacco crop if I to 
 t'at." 
 
 " And make ten times as much as you would lose, 
 for you could use the news as well as Mr. 
 Waring." 
 
 " But if t'e news vas pat news ? " 
 
 " It will not be bad news ! Something tells me it 
 will be good news. But, good news or bad news, if 
 you will not do this for me, I'll find a means for my- 
 
338 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 self to eome at the end, I care not how desperate 
 soever the course ; for I tell you, papa, I would as 
 lief die " 
 
 " Hemel en aarde, Luya ! " Mr. Vanbergen cried 
 out, with a torrent of his half-forgotten Dutch, and 
 rising to catch her two hands in his. " Haf you 
 t'ought t'at I coult refuse you ? Ven haf I effer re- 
 fuset you somet'ings ? No, no, Luya, ton't t'ink t'at 
 your olt fater haf lifet so long to refuse you somet'ings 
 ven he loves you most. T'ere, t'ere, you see your 
 moeder is laughing at us pehint her handkerchief ! 
 Ton't you peen excitet, Luya. T'e ship shall go out 
 at sunrise. I'll go vit her myself. Ve'll trust nopoty 
 vit t'e pusiness. Ant Jacob vill do somet'ing to help 
 Mr. Varing if he neets it, he, Jacob ? And if I 
 lose somet'ings, veil, veil, t'is will pay me." 
 
 Luya's arms were about his neck, her cheek pressed 
 against his, and half laughing, half crying, she was 
 saying through his speech : 
 
 " I knew you would do it. You are the best of 
 fathers. Dear old papa ! I would not trade you for 
 all the world ! " 
 
 The plans were quickly arranged. Vanbergen was 
 to go out with his vessel to meet the incoming ship, 
 as proposed by Luya, and Jacob was to keep a close 
 eye on the fortune of Mr. Waring during the panic 
 which they knew to be inevitable. If Mr. Waring 
 gave signs of falling under the pressure, Jacob would 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 339 
 
 come to the rescue through Harmsen, for Luya 
 would not have Waring know that it was her father 
 from whom the money came, but Vanbergen would 
 not consent to the relief exceeding ,9,000. That 
 was the extent of his money in bank, and that was to 
 be used only in the last emergency. 
 
 "If t'at vill keep Mr. Varing afloat, he may haf 
 it ant velcome. Put all t'e rest of my money is in 
 t'e lant t'at Luya's chiltren must puilt t'eir house 
 on. I von't let trouples come to t'at." 
 
 Luya prepared a simple cipher that Mr. Vanber- 
 gen should use in sending the message, so that if 
 mischance should throw the billet into strange hands 
 its meaning could not be guessed. She kept a copy 
 of the cryptograph for herself, and then made Mr. 
 Vanbergen experiment with a pretended message, to 
 be sure that he would not err in the vital use of the 
 cipher. 
 
 Jacob climbed the ladder to the pigeon-cote to 
 secure the birds before they could venture forth on 
 a day-dawn excursion ; and, while the light was yet 
 gray over the waters, the sails of Mr. Vanber gen's 
 little ship were taking up the breeze from the land 
 and bellying out toward the sea. 
 
 Kissing her father good-bye, Luya had whispered 
 in his ear, " Don't let the ship slip by you in the 
 night, papa ! Remember, it is for the man I love." 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 LONG before the hour at which the Exchange 
 usually opened its doors, Broad Street was a scene 
 of active excitement. People of every class and con- 
 dition were gathered to discuss the news of the night 
 before and compare opinions as to the probable result 
 of the day's transactions. Daylight gave a grim 
 reality to the gruesome fears of the night. The 
 waiting for those doors to open was like the waiting 
 for the order to begin firing along a line of battle. 
 Those who had no personal risk in the financial out- 
 come of the impending crisis were apparently as much 
 perturbed as the men who knew that the next few 
 hours were to make or break their fortunes. That 
 mysterious telegraphy which operates as divination 
 had influenced the settlements up the island and 
 across the river. The farmers and market gardeners, 
 coming to the markets with their stock and produce, 
 drew with them a train of the eagerly curious to swell 
 the throng of town people in the streets. Some at- 
 tempts were made to restore confidence and avert aj 
 panic, the mayor himself speaking very sensibly toi 
 
 340 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 341 
 
 that purpose from the Exchange steps. They, how- 
 ever, who were to profit by pessimistic views, took 
 pains to have it seen and heard that their fears 
 were not allayed, and when the Exchange was 
 opened pandemonium rushed in to take possession 
 of it. 
 
 Mr. Waring, though still under a high nervous 
 tension, had recovered, to a great extent, from the 
 shock of his first fears. He went into the fight 
 courageously, and if his face was paler than usual, he 
 carried his head more proudly erect. He had called 
 on Mr. Boylston before breakfast, and they had 
 gone to the bank together, that Mr. Waring might 
 ascertain to a certainty the amount of his available 
 credit. 
 
 " If what you have in the funds could be drawn 
 out, you might stand a goodly amount of battering, 
 Waring." 
 
 " For how much beyond my cash account will my 
 cheque be honoured ? " 
 
 " That must depend on the quotations. If things 
 go as badly as they promise to, I'm afraid " 
 
 " I mean how large a loan can I negotiate ? " 
 
 "At this juncture, Waring, I dare not make any 
 advance beyond the third of the actual value of the 
 best securities." 
 
 " Name a figure." 
 
 After a little hesitation, Mr. Boylston made a com- 
 
342 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 putation and pushed the paper across the table to 
 Mr. Waring, who glanced at the figures, not very 
 well pleased. 
 
 " Humph ! And how large a personal loan will 
 you make ? " 
 
 " My dear Waring," said Mr. Boylston, shifting 
 his position uneasily, and rumpling the feather of 
 his pen against his nose in a deliberative way, " you 
 and I have had one or two private talks, somewhat 
 of a family character, and I think you found me 
 rather inclined to " 
 
 " Confound it, Boylston, 'tis no fault of mine if 
 I have a fool for a son. 'Tis not a time now to 
 reproach me with the fact. How much money will 
 you lend me ? " 
 
 " Less than I might have lent to the father-in-law 
 of my daughter, Waring. I cannot put my bank in 
 peril by private loans at the very minute I must 
 expect to meet the demands of a thousand frightened 
 depositors. It's a pity that you have meddled in 
 stocks." 
 
 " How much money will you lend me ? " 
 
 " An extra third on your securities." 
 
 " No more ? " 
 
 " My dear Waring " 
 
 " Very well ; I shall ask you to indorse five 
 cheques covering the entire amount of my credit." 
 
 "I hope you will consider, Waring, that I am 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 343 
 
 merely protecting the general interests of my clients, 
 yours among the rest." 
 
 " Can we arrange the matter now ? Or must I 
 wait for banking hours with the others ? " 
 
 " My dear Waring, I see you are in temper. We 
 can arrange the matter now. I am most willing to 
 oblige you. And I do not see that you have great 
 reason to complain. With this amount in hand you 
 should be able to fight through a very stormy day." 
 
 That was the courage Mr. Waring took into the 
 bedlam of the Exchange, and with which he under- 
 took to protect his threatened fortune. Speculation 
 of every description had run so high in the steadily 
 increasing prosperity of the city during the past two 
 or three years that it had drawn most of the regular 
 merchants into its treacherous swirl, and many of 
 them were in as great peril of the suddenly created 
 vortex as was Mr. Waring himself. Invested inter- 
 ests had to be protected at all hazards, and men of 
 staid demeanour on ordinary occasions were conduct- 
 ing themselves like madmen in the confused babel. 
 
 Wallace, who had expected to see his father one 
 of the most frenzied of the number, and had gone to 
 the Exchange with the gravest apprehensions, was 
 amazed at the calmness and decision of Mr. Waring' s 
 manner in meeting each demand of the falling prices. 
 He had never seemed more cool and self-assured, 
 more entirely master of himself. It was as if he 
 
344 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 were following a winning game and saw clearly the 
 successful outcome of every chance before him. 
 Wallace felt a new admiration of his father expand- 
 ing his heart. He wished that the struggle were a 
 thing of force against force that he might beat a way 
 through to his father's side and fight with him the 
 desperate battle against overwhelming odds. Tears 
 came into his eyes at the thought of his powerless- 
 ness to go to the rescue of the man who, he believed, 
 was sustained in that seeming dauntlessness by pride 
 alone. 
 
 Jacob, from his side of the room watching the con- 
 duct of Mr. Waring, was no less surprised than Wal- 
 lace by the air of assurance in the upright bearing 
 and passionless face, and came to the conclusion that 
 Luya had been mightily deceived as to Mr. Waring' s 
 necessities. 
 
 But the admiration of the one was as ill-founded 
 as the judgment of the other; for Stephen Waring 
 had made a compact with himself before going to 
 his troubled sleep in the early hours of the morning. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 ACROSS the way from the Exchange was the 
 King's Head Tavern, and Peters, the landlord, reck- 
 oned the last two days the best in the money-taking 
 history of the hostel. Very well content was Peters, 
 and he cared not a jot how long the pother over the 
 way might continue if the excitement but kept his 
 taps and spigots busy. If one man's meat was by 
 nature another man's poison, he thought it very 
 proper that the breaking of fortunes in the Exchange 
 should lead to the cracking of bottles in his bar and 
 parlours, and so to the speedier filling of the strong- 
 box he believed to be trustier than any merchant's 
 bank. 
 
 It was drawing near to closing time in the second 
 day of the unabated disorder on 'Change. Mr. 
 Peters was sitting complacently on the porch of his 
 tavern, talking in a carelessly argumentative way 
 with Mr. Benton, one of the city's patriarchs, and 
 Jem Colson, boatswain and recruiter to a privateer 
 that was now in need of men. The November 
 weather had in it the mild, fresh tonic of spring. 
 
 " My opinion," Peters was saying, " is this : Them 
 345 
 
346 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 as stirs up hornets shouldn't complain of the sting. 
 And that's the opinion I hold to, neighbour." 
 
 "Ay, ay, mate; and I ship under your colours," 
 declared Jem Colson, refreshing himself from a deep 
 tankard. 
 
 " Keep to your opinion, Mr. Peters," retorted Mr. 
 Benton, with quiet obstinacy, " and you, too, boat- 
 swain Colson. But I have a mind to my own way 
 of thinking ; and it's my opinion that the law ought 
 to put a stop to that," shaking his thin finger at the 
 Exchange, through the doors of which men were 
 hurrying in and out at intervals. " It ought to be 
 put a stop to before our best men are brought to 
 ruin by it. The way things have been going on in 
 there for the last two days is a scandal to heaven, 
 and thafs my opinion." 
 
 " Well," said Peters, " I think as trade is trade, 
 and that stock gambling, as you call it, is as good 
 a trade as any, and quite a gentlemanly way to make 
 or lose a fortune." 
 
 " Ay, ay, mate ; and the quickest way to find 
 your bearings in stormy weather." 
 
 " As for them as suffers, one man's loss is some 
 other man's gain." 
 
 "But breaking down business, Mr. Peters, and 
 filling the debtors' prison and spoiling reputations 
 don't gain much to the community, Fm thinking." 
 
 "Jailors must live as well as the best of us, mate," 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 347 
 
 " Five failures in forty-eight hours, and the Lord 
 knows how many more to come ! " Mr. Benton con- 
 tinued irascibly. " "Pis monstrous, Mr. Peters ! And 
 all for what ? For any reason that anybody knows 
 on ? Zut ! All for news of a battle that like enough 
 never occurred ! " 
 
 " Never occurred ! " demanded Peters, in surprise. 
 Then, wagging his head contentedly, he added, with 
 a leer at Colson, " Whether it did occur or did not 
 occur, neighbour, I'm getting sixpence the more to 
 a pint of rum for it." 
 
 "Ay, and there's the injustice of it," declared 
 Colson, taking no account of the amiable leer. 
 
 " There goes old Harmsen's clerk," said Mr. Ben- 
 ton, pointing, " looking worried enough, I'm thinking. 
 They say that Harmsen's firm is bound to go down, 
 and that it's a miracle he has held out so long." 
 
 "I'm not so sorry for Harmsen," Peters asserted, 
 " for he has been but a close curmudgeon. But I'm 
 sorry for Mr. Stephen Waring that's wound up with 
 him, and young Mr. Waring has always spent his 
 money freely. I'm always sorry when a liberal gen- 
 tleman comes to the end of his leather." 
 
 " You may well say end of his leather, for I heard 
 the recorder say at noon this very day that Mr. 
 Waring had given a judgment mortgage on his estate 
 for a quarter of its value. That shows where he is 
 headed for." 
 
348 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Straight for Davy Jones's locker, mate, and 
 plenty of good company he'll find there, too." 
 
 "Well, there comes a lass whose father will be 
 none the worse for King George's going without a 
 crown, I warrant you," said Peters, nodding his head 
 toward the right. 
 
 " No," agreed Mr. Bent on, with a click of the 
 throat that expressed his approval of one thing and 
 his contempt of another, " Evert Vanbergen isn't fool 
 enough to play ducks and drakes with his money in 
 that way," indicating the Exchange with a renounc- 
 ing sweep of the hand. 
 
 " She's as neat and well-rigged a craft as ever 
 steered course on land ! " asserted Colson, with an 
 emphasis that seemed to challenge denial. 
 
 Mr. Benton arose to his feet creakingly, as Luya 
 came rapidly down Broad Street, and made a rever- 
 ential bow as she approached. The old fellow felt a 
 responsible pride in Luya, having saved her from 
 a tumble off one of the wharves when she was a 
 chubby fay of six. To have kept her from going out 
 of the world was much the same thing as having 
 brought her into the world, in his logic ; he accord- 
 ingly assumed the right to pass the time of day with 
 her whenever chance brought her into his sunshine. 
 Seeing that Luya's face was wan and troubled, Mr. 
 Benton came down the steps to meet her as she 
 passed, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 349 
 
 "Ah, Miss Luya, what have you done with the 
 face we all love ? Where are your smiles to-day ? " 
 
 " Mr. Benton," she said, eagerly, " I'm glad to find 
 you here. You may do me a service," taking him 
 by the arm and drawing him along with her. " I 
 wish Mr. Wilbruch called from the Exchange. I 
 must speak with him. Can you get word to him 
 for me ? Would they let you on to the floor ? " 
 
 " Wait, wait, Miss Luya ; not so fast ! Mr. Wil- 
 bruch is not there." 
 
 " Not there ! " 
 
 " He went away ten minutes ago. I know, be- 
 cause I spoke to him. He has gone home, as the 
 business of that thing there is about done for the 
 day. I think I heard the closing bell ring just now. 
 If you want to see Mr. Wilbruch " 
 
 " I do want to see him. I must see him ! But 
 have you heard, Mr. Benton, how affairs have gone 
 to-day ? Do you know if any one if Mr. Waring, 
 Mr. Stephen Waring " 
 
 " I know he is in a bad way, Miss Luya," Mr. 
 Benton interrupted. 
 
 " But not yet beaten down ? " 
 
 " No ; I asked Mr. Wilbruch that. He is safe for 
 to-day; but to-morrow " Mr. Benton completed 
 the sentence with an ominous shake of the head. 
 
 "I want to look into Mr. Waring' s face. Can we 
 stand there on the steps and watch them come out ? " 
 
35O IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 She said this very strangely, it seemed to Mr. 
 Benton, and he was disturbed by her restless, ner- 
 vous manner. 
 
 " Yes, we could see them come out," he answered, 
 warily. "But I think you'd best not stop. You 
 don't seem to me to be well, Miss Luya." 
 
 "I am well, very well. Let us stand here. He 
 could not pass without my seeing him. I want to 
 look into his face." 
 
 She was talking to herself rather than to Mr. 
 Benton, and seemed not to listen to his answers. 
 She stood beside one of the columns in a position to 
 command the doors, on which she kept her eyes fixed, 
 as if in a moment of unwatchfulness they might open 
 to let some one slip by unperceived. While she stood 
 thus, hearing without heeding the garrulity of her 
 companion, a boy came up to her and held out a 
 card. 
 
 " For you, miss." 
 
 A lady looking from the window of a sedan-chair 
 at the corner smiled as she saw Luya take the card, 
 and ordered her chair-men to go on their way up 
 Broad Street. 
 
 Luya looked at the card, on which there was but a 
 line in pencil. 
 
 " Claudine Lambert has disappeared from town. Ask 
 Wallace Waring why." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 351 
 
 She read the words without seeming to catch their 
 meaning, her mind being too greatly occupied by the 
 thought that kept her attention fixed on the scene 
 which was passing behind those closed doors, and 
 which she saw in spite of the doors. And when, 
 presently, they were flung open and the excited 
 crowd surged noisily out, the card was crushed, 
 forgotten, in the feverishly clenched hand, and she 
 strained forward to see the one pale, haunting face 
 of her fears. 
 
 Mr. Waring was among the last to come out. His 
 face was more haggard for the two days' ordeal, 
 but his head was as proudly erect as before, and 
 there was even the faint outline of a smile upon his 
 lips. 
 
 "It is there ! It is true, then ! " Luya spoke the 
 words in the awed, hushed whisper of owe looking at 
 a spectre, and Mr. Benton, betrayed by her intensity, 
 asked, in a frightened undertone : 
 
 " What is there ? What is true ? " 
 
 As Mr. Waring passed her, going down the steps, 
 some one said to him : 
 
 " Well, Waring, you still have a fighting chance 
 left for to-morrow, you may thank God ! " 
 
 "It is hardly worth the taking," Mr. Waring 
 answered, looking around at the merchant curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " It is worth the taking, Mr. Waring ! " Luya cried 
 
352 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 out, earnestly. " Your turn may come to-morrow. 
 Help may come in the night. Fight, Mr. Waring, 
 fight!" 
 
 He lifted his hat, but neither bowed nor looked in 
 her direction, and went on down the steps. 
 
 "You are sure Mr. Wilbruch went home?" she 
 demanded of Mr. Benton. 
 
 " That is where he said he was going." 
 
 " Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Benton. Good 
 day." 
 
 She ran down the steps, and, at a quick walk, 
 went up Broad Street, but, instead of turning to 
 the left, toward home, she went along Prince Street 
 to Smith Street, and took the direction toward 
 Golden Hill. She looked about for a chair, willing 
 to escape the walk, but there was none in sight. 
 Passing King Street, she saw one standing in front 
 of a mercer's, and was about to signal to the chair- 
 man when she recognised it for Miss Boylston's, and 
 saw that lady in the act of quitting the shop to 
 return to the chair. Miss Boylston also caught sight 
 of Luya, wondered to see her so much in haste, and 
 concluded that the visit to this neighbourhood was 
 in some way inspired by the card she had sent to 
 Luya a few minutes before. 
 
 "Keep that person in view," she commanded the 
 head chair-man, and took her seat in the chair, half 
 inclined to wager with one of the porters that she 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK, 353 
 
 could describe in advance the house at which the 
 " person " would stop. 
 
 " If you please, madam," said the chair-man, after 
 a time, " the lady has entered the gabled house in 
 Queen Street." 
 
 " What lady ? " demanded Miss Boylston, affecting 
 the greatest surprise. 
 
 "The lady madam bade me keep in view." 
 
 " I bade you keep no lady in view, blockhead ! 
 I gave you direction home ! Whither have you 
 brought me ? If you want to escape a punishment, 
 make haste enough to correct your blunder." Then, 
 settling back and smiling in satisfaction, she said to 
 herself, " So ! Miss Vanbergen comes alone to the 
 house of Mr. Wilbruch ! How fortunate that I 
 should have made the discovery ! This will serve 
 much better than the Lambert episode, I'll go bail." 
 
 Arriving home, Miss Boylston spent a pleasant 
 half-hour fashioning a note in a writing that should 
 have no trace of her hand, and succeeded quite to 
 her satisfaction, after a few experimental courses. 
 She flattered herself, too, on the ingenuity of the 
 verbal arrangement, which conveyed the proper in- 
 formation without resort to accusation. 
 
 "Would it interest Mr. Wallace Waring to learn that a 
 young lady of his acquaintance pays private visits to a gentle- 
 man living as a bachelor in Queen Street? If so, he may 
 inquire the particulars of the lady least likely to confess a 
 
354 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 knowledge of them. If Mr. Waring would have a hint of the 
 lady's name, he need but look near the end of the alphabet to 
 find it." 
 
 Folding the paper and sealing it, she addressed it 
 in large characters to Wallace, and despatched it to 
 the inn by her confidential maid, who was to fling 
 it, unobserved, into the entry. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 " Is Mr. Wilbruch at home ? " Luya asked, anx- 
 iously, of the old housekeeper who opened the door to 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Luya." 
 
 " Show me into the parlour and have him come at 
 once." 
 
 Jacob called from above stairs on hearing voices in 
 his hall : 
 
 "What is it, Mrs. Leonard?" 
 
 " A lady, Miss Luya, to see you." 
 
 Jacob came down the stairs two at a time, agitated 
 by a fear that some evil had befallen the family. He 
 entered the room, obscure in the fading light of a 
 single uncurtained window, incredulous that it really 
 was Luya seated there. 
 
 " What has happened, Luya ? " 
 
 "Oh, Jacob, one of the pigeons has come back 
 without a message!" 
 
 " Without a message ? Well, that's not as bad as 
 I feared. It is strange, though." 
 
 " It is ominous, Jacob. It means that the news 
 is bad." 
 
 355 
 
356 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " No ; it doesn't mean that, for the first pigeon 
 was to be sent when the ship was sighted. The 
 second pigeon was to bring the news " 
 
 Luya broke in upon his speech, her words coming 
 hurriedly, as if she were eager to say many things at 
 once. 
 
 " But we were to know by the first pigeon how 
 far out they were, and when we could expect the 
 second message. We can tell nothing about it now. 
 We cannot tell from what distance the pigeon came, 
 and so we cannot estimate when the ship will come 
 in. And, then, who can say if the pigeon didn't 
 escape ? The ship may not even have been sighted 
 yet. And the Exchange is closed and the long 
 night is before us and it may happen and if it 
 should happen, I think I must die for it would 
 have been my doing it would be the same as if I 
 had done it ah! it was my doing " 
 
 She was cowering down in a great armchair, and 
 gave free vent to her overcharged feelings, her face 
 hidden in her hands, her body swaying from side to 
 side as she sobbed. Jacob bent over her in trembling 
 alarm to question her. He had never seen her 
 affected like this. He took hold of her hands to 
 draw them from her face, and, feeling them wet with 
 her tears, he let them go again, fearing to profane a 
 grief he did not know how to console. He would 
 have rung the bell for Mrs. Leonard, but she begged 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 357 
 
 him not to do it, saying she would be calm in a 
 moment, that it would do her a world of good to 
 weep, and that she could talk to him all the better 
 after. He stood there waiting, now and then put- 
 ting his hand lightly on her head to smooth over 
 her hair, reminding her of his presence, but pa- 
 tient that she should speak when it seemed to her 
 best. 
 
 The sobs ceased at last, and presently she lifted 
 her head. Drying her eyes, she said : 
 
 " I have suffered such a shock, Jacob ! " 
 
 "You are letting anxiety make you ill, Luya. 
 You are tormenting yourself with groundless 
 fears" 
 
 " No, no ; not groundless fears, they are terri- 
 ble forebodings; for I have had a forewarning, 
 Jacob, a forewarning of such horrible reality that I 
 thought I should have died under it. I'll tell you, 
 Jacob. You may call it a dream, but it was no 
 dream, it was a vision, a prophecy ! No dream was 
 ever like it. It was this afternoon. I was lying on 
 the lounge in my sitting-room, in a waking dream, 
 for I was not asleep, when, suddenly, like the 
 blowing out of a light, the sunlight vanished and the 
 stars appeared. I wasn't asleep, for I felt frightened 
 by the suddenness of the change and went to open 
 the window to look out. I raised the window, but, 
 instead of the night and the open air, I looked into a 
 
358 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 lighted room, a strange room, with a great canopied 
 bed in one corner, and opposite it a curious, low 
 dressing-table with a tall, wide mirror over it. There 
 was a man with his coat off, sitting with his back to 
 me, writing at a table. He got up to go to a small 
 desk, which he unlocked, and took a packet from a 
 drawer. When he turned, I saw his face distinctly. 
 It was Mr. Waring. A hunted, desperate face, but 
 pale and calm, in spite of it, and upon his lips the 
 strangest shadow of a smile. He put the packet on 
 the table where he had been writing, and I remember 
 as a curious thing that he struck on it three times 
 with the back of his fingers as it lay there. Walking 
 toward the dressing-table, he took off his waistcoat 
 and threw it into a chair, and then, standing before 
 the mirror, he removed his neckcloth and unfastened 
 his shirt. He picked up a small, flat case and took 
 from it Oh ! I see it all again ! I see him stand- 
 ing there, looking into his own eyes, that gleam as 
 bright as the steel blade in his hand! I see him 
 bare his throat and run his fingers over it, laughing 
 a mocking laugh that chills me ! I see him raise the 
 knife Horrible, horrible ! " 
 
 She covered her face with her hands, as much 
 terrorised by the picture of her fancy as she could 
 have been by the tragic reality. Jacob, fearing a re- 
 currence of that paroxysm of weeping and self- 
 condemnation, put his arm about her, kneeling 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 359 
 
 by her side, and spoke to her gently but command- 
 ingly. 
 
 " You must not have these thoughts, Luya. Your 
 own fears made the dream. Mr. Waring is not a 
 man to kill himself " 
 
 " Oh ! you don't know you don't know ! And I 
 tell you it was not a dream. Dreams are not like 
 that. I was carried out of myself. They found me, 
 mamma and Hendrik, lying on the floor like one 
 dead. They were a long time bringing me to myself. 
 I did not tell them what I had seen, but I went at 
 once to the Exchange. I saw Mr. Waring it was 
 the face of the vision, haunted, desperate, mocking, 
 with that same strange shadow of a smile, the face 
 of a man who would think it better to die than endure 
 the disgrace of a failure, pride and physical cour- 
 age, but moral weakness. I called out to him. I 
 could not help it, I felt that I must. And, Jacob, 
 the money that my father left the cheque you 
 have not used it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I gave it to Harmsen. It was that that en- 
 abled Mr. Waring to get through the day." 
 
 " He has had the full amount ? " 
 
 "The full amount." 
 
 " And you have no more money ? " 
 
 "None that I am authorised to use." 
 
 " But you have some ? " 
 
 " I have your father's order on Mr. Boylston, telling 
 
360 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 him to honour my cheque for whatever sum he will 
 advance on the firm's credit " 
 
 "Then you can help Mr. Waring?" 
 
 Jacob shook his head. 
 
 " I am only to use the order if the message your 
 father sends is favourable." 
 
 "And you can use it as you please? " 
 
 Jacob made no answer. 
 
 " You can use it as you please, Jacob ? " 
 
 " I must use it as your father has instructed me, 
 Luya." 
 
 " It is your money as much as it is my father's. 
 You can use your own as you will." 
 
 " Whatever is mine is yours, Luya, to do with as 
 you will. I cannot misapply your father's money; 
 but I'll draw a cheque for the amount that I have 
 invested in the business. Mr. Waring shall have that, 
 all that I have ; but, without news to steady the 
 market, it won't go far." 
 
 "Ah, I don't mean that you shall sacrifice your- 
 self, Jacob ! And if good news comes it will be no 
 sacrifice, it will be a service that can be repaid. And 
 you will do it ? Mr. Waring shall have the money if 
 a favourable message comes ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I have no way to thank you. How could one 
 thank a man like you ? It would be like thanking 
 the rain or the sunshine. I am going home now." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 361 
 
 She held out her hand to him. " You will go with 
 me ? The other pigeon may have come, and Mr. 
 Waring could have the message before nightfall. I 
 should be happier if he could have it before nightfall. 
 I have a dread of the night." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 MRS. VANBERGEN, complaining of an indisposition, 
 went early to bed, counselling Luya to follow the 
 example. They had all gone up to Luya's sitting- 
 room after supper, because its window looked out on 
 the pigeon-cote twelve feet away. 
 
 "There is no earthly use your waiting into the 
 night. It is as dark as Egypt, and you can't expect 
 a pigeon to fly when he cannot see the length of your 
 hand in front of his face." 
 
 "Yes, mamma, but pigeons do fly in the night," 
 Hendrik asserted, with decision. 
 
 "Not if they can find a place to roost, I think, 
 Master Hendrik," said his mother, amused by his 
 superior air. 
 
 " What do you think, Jacob ? " Luya asked, when 
 Mrs. Vanbergen had retired. "Can the message 
 come to-night?" 
 
 Jacob had been considering the matter very cir- 
 cumstantially since supper, and had elaborated a 
 theory that was really in fair accord with the facts. 
 
 "My idea is this. Your father sighted the ship 
 and made her out. Then he wrote his message and 
 
 362 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 363 
 
 got out one of the pigeons to send it, and the pigeon 
 escaped. It came directly home, getting here an 
 hour before sundown. I reckon that your father 
 must be from three hundred and fifty to four hun- 
 dred miles from shore. It would take a pigeon 
 between four and five hours to fly the distance. 
 Well, suppose the second pigeon was started an 
 hour after the first one flew away. That would 
 allow it only an hour or an hour and a half of 
 daylight ; it reached land in the darkness and, no 
 doubt, stopped in the first tree it came to." 
 
 " You think that ! And Arrow may be at roost 
 within a few miles of us ! " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Oh, that would be too cruel a mockery ! " 
 
 " But the moon is at its full to-night, and if the 
 sky keeps clear till it rises, the pigeon may take 
 advantage of the light to continue its flight home. 
 Pigeons will not roost abroad if they can find their 
 way home." 
 
 " And when does the moon rise ? " 
 
 " Not until after twelve." 
 
 "Three hours of waiting! Such dreadful things 
 may happen in three hours ! You must go to bed, 
 now, Hendrik, 'tis much beyond your time, and 
 you stay up to no purpose." 
 
 "Let me first take one more look to make sure 
 that Arrow has not slipped in and fooled us." 
 
364 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 He raised the window and climbed out on to the 
 ladder with which he had greatly amused himself 
 earlier in the evening. It was so much easier and 
 quicker to go down a ladder than to descend by the 
 stairs and go around the house to reach the cote. 
 Then, too, it pleased Hendrik to show that he had 
 the strength to swing the ladder from the window- 
 ledge to the pole of the cote or back again, according 
 as he wished to climb. He had made a dozen vain 
 explorations of the pigeon-holes, and the last was no 
 more fruitful than the others. He went reluctantly 
 to his room at Luya's bidding, lamenting that boys 
 should be made to go to bed at the pleasantest time 
 of day, and when they were not at all ready to 
 sleep. Yet, at the end of fifteen minutes, Hendrik 
 was on a far journey into that wonderful country of 
 Nod which is lighted by the light that never was on 
 land or sea. 
 
 Then, in his turn, Jacob was for persuading Luya 
 to rest. 
 
 "You would be sensible to do it, Luya. If you 
 will go to sleep, I'll knock on your door at the first 
 sign of the moonrise." 
 
 " You might fall asleep yourself if I should leave 
 you alone." 
 
 " No fear of that." 
 
 " Truth to say, Jacob, I am two days aweary, and 
 should be the better for a mouthful of sleep ; but 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 365 
 
 I doubt I'll find it. I'll lie down, but not undressed, 
 so that I shall be ready the moment you signal me, 
 unless I fall into a trance," she said, attempting a 
 recovery of her usual lightness. " I have so remark- 
 able a head that I know not if it have lead or brains 
 to its machinery, but 'tis of a mighty heaviness. 
 If I go into a lethargy, I hope you will not twist my 
 joints apart in the effort to arouse me. They say 'tis 
 dangerous to wake one rudely from a coma, and, as 
 I live, Jacob, I feel nearer to a coma than I do to a 
 frolic." 
 
 She laughed and went into her room, and Jacob 
 seated himself to wait the rising of the moon, having 
 a nebulous idea that his vigil would be a foolish sort 
 of thing were it at the caprice of any one but Luya. 
 
 The time dragged along heavily, the minutes 
 seeming to multiply as they passed ; but at last a 
 faint mist of light wavered in the darkness in almost 
 indistinguishable fineness. In a few minutes the 
 golden edge of the wide disc would push up into 
 view, and he could call Luya to watch this softened 
 and exquisite mimicry of the day's dawn, the full 
 autumnal moon rising over the midnight shadowed 
 waters. 
 
 He opened the window and took a deep breath of 
 the keen fresh air, and, standing there, he heard 
 Luya calling him in a whisper. She was at her door, 
 pale-faced and beckoning. 
 
366 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " I have had that ghastly vision again, Jacob ! And 
 come, look ! From my window you can see a light 
 in Mr. Waring' s house." 
 
 "That means nothing, Luya. You have had the 
 same dream because it was in your mind, so " 
 
 " Don't try to reason with me, Jacob. It is not a 
 thing of reasoning. I feel and all you can say 
 would not take that feeling from me. I believe Mr. 
 Waring is writing in that room, I know he is, and 
 if he finishes the writing, he will go to the desk and 
 take out a packet, and then ! Jacob, I must know 
 what is doing in that room. I must look in through 
 that window." 
 
 Jacob took hold of her arm, detaining her as she 
 started toward the stairs. 
 
 "You can't go, Luya. The window is in the 
 second story. That means a climb. I'll go. The 
 moon is rising now. You must watch for the coming 
 of the pigeon." 
 
 " Then go, go at once, Jacob ! And note things 
 well. I have never been inside Mr. Waring's house. 
 I know nothing about it. But remember what I 
 have told you about the bed, the table, the desk, 
 the dressing-table, and see if they are not as I have 
 described them. And Mr. Waring, writing with his 
 back to the window, his coat off, a three-branched 
 candlestick on his table." 
 
 "I shall look well, Luya." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 367 
 
 " And act, act, Jacob, if you see a need ! " 
 
 " There will be no need to do anything, Luya." 
 
 They went down the stairs together, whispering, 
 and stepping with care not to disturb Mrs. Van- 
 bergen, and at the door Luya said : 
 
 " Knock ever so lightly when you return. I'll hear 
 you and will let you in." 
 
 " I can come in through the window by the ladder 
 with the least noise. Shall I not ? " 
 
 " Yes, come that way," said Luya. " Ah, look ! 
 The moon ! It will soon be light. I shall take it 
 as a gift from God if the pigeon comes in time." 
 
 Jacob went up the road half-running, and turned 
 down to the Waring house. The light came from 
 one of the half-curtained windows of the upper 
 story. Directly in front of the window, at a dis- 
 tance of some twenty feet, was a spreading elm, into 
 the branches of which Jacob climbed, guiltily. He 
 got into a position that commanded quite two- 
 thirds of the room, and at the first glance he was 
 startled to see with what accuracy Luya had de- 
 scribed the various objects and their disposition. 
 And there was Mr. Waring, his coat thrown off, 
 writing intently, his back to the window, his head 
 bent low over his work. A superstitious awe came 
 upon Jacob. The longer he clung there looking in 
 upon that scene of quiet labour which offered so 
 little to the provocation of fear, the stronger became 
 
368 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 the conviction that a tragedy was preparing. It was 
 as if something were pressing the knowledge into his 
 brain, crowding it into conscience, informing him and 
 commanding him. He had! never known sensations 
 so much like fear ; his hands trembled as they 
 grasped the limb of the tree, and his knees seemed 
 to lose power under him. To Jacob's mind nothing 
 was as awful as self-destruction, it was the un- 
 pardonable sin, the greatest blasphemy against the 
 Maker. He seemed to be now face to face with 
 the horror. The idea came into his head that he 
 would make his way through the dark house to that 
 lighted room, and take the man there by the shoulder 
 and drag him out under the stars and the moon, that 
 his soul might abhor itself unto repentance ; or he 
 would stand over him at the table there, and say : 
 
 " I know what you have it in your mind to do. 
 Well, dare you do it while I look on ? " 
 
 One of these things it was his duty to do, was it 
 not ? And yet, should he do either, what would it 
 avail ? What would be said ? How could he justify 
 his interference ? How accuse a man of such a pur- 
 pose ? This midnight toil might be only the getting 
 of resources into order for the next day's operations. 
 It would be rash to act on vague, ill-grounded fears, 
 fears that took rise from a girl's day-dream. 
 
 Jacob got down from the tree, greatly distressed 
 in mind, as much a victim to nervous apprehension 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 369 
 
 as Luya herself. He was as eager as she that the 
 message should come, and the clearness of the skies 
 lighting under the full glow of the moon gave him 
 hope that it would come. Returning to the house, 
 he forced himself into an outward calm ; and mount- 
 ing the ladder to Luya, who was waiting with the 
 window open, he said, attempting a bantering 
 tone : 
 
 "There's nothing to fear. Your dream was only 
 a dream. It was like other dreams. We can't put 
 trust in good dreams ; we should not have faith in 
 bad ones." 
 
 As he entered the room she held a candle up to 
 tiis face, looking into his eyes silently. Though he 
 looked at her firmly, she shook her head and said, 
 turning away : 
 
 "I had not thought you would have tried to 
 deceive me." 
 
 Jacob made no response, but offered to close the 
 window. 
 
 " No ; leave it open," she said, " the air is life- 
 giving. The night is not even cool. And I want to 
 see anything that moves in the sky." 
 
 They sat by the window without speaking, for a 
 long time, each knowing what the other had upper- 
 most in thought. After a time he asked : 
 
 "The message is to be in cipher, is it not ? What 
 have you done with the key ? " 
 
37O IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " I have it here," she answered, putting her hand 
 on her bosom. " I have not left it out of my care 
 for a moment." 
 
 There was again a silence. 
 
 " See if the light is burning, Jacob." 
 
 He went into her room, very well understanding 
 what light she meant, and looked toward Mr. War- 
 ing's house. 
 
 " Yes, the light is burning," he said, coming back 
 to his place at the window. 
 
 After a pause, she asked : 
 
 " What if it should not come, Jacob ? " 
 
 "It will come, Luya." 
 
 He took her hand. It seemed to be chilled and 
 bloodless. 
 
 " You are cold, Luya." 
 
 " No, I'm on fire. My brain is burning." 
 
 " I'll get you something." 
 
 " I want nothing." Then, as if suddenly recollect- 
 ing the question, she asked : 
 
 " Has Claudine Lambert gone away ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Some one sent me a card to-day. I can guess 
 who sent it. I can guess why. Malice is such an 
 extraordinary thing. It invents such stupid lies. 
 There ! there ! there ! " she suddenly cried out, ex- 
 citedly, flinging herself to her knees and leaning 
 out at the window. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " What is it ? " demanded Jacob, startled by the 
 sudden energy of her movement. 
 
 " Something flying ! See, see ! It is Arrow ! " 
 
 " No that is not Arrow. Look it turns it 
 is a whippoorwill it is gone." 
 
 "No, no, Jacob, not that," she exclaimed, insist- 
 ently pointing, " yonder, there now you can see 
 it against the white patch under the moon ! " 
 
 " Yes, I see something. It flies like a pigeon ! " 
 
 " It is a pigeon ! I'm sure of it. It is dear old 
 Arrow at last ! It is, it is ! See how straight he 
 comes this way. Quick, Jacob, quick ! He is com- 
 ing lower. He will arrive before you can climb to 
 the cote." 
 
 Jacob had got through the window and was going 
 down the ladder as she spoke. 
 
 " There ! there ! he is swerving toward the Fort. 
 He is past the Fort. There he comes ! I can 
 almost see the beat of his wings. But look, look, 
 he is circling as if to alight! He has alighted!" 
 she cried, despairingly. "He has stopped on the 
 de Lancy house. I can't see him now. What if it 
 were not Arrow, after all ! " 
 
 The idea was like a blow. She bowed her head 
 upon her arm resting on the window-sill, and moaned 
 as if she had suffered a bodily hurt. But Jacob 
 called out : 
 
 " I see him ! Here he comes ! " 
 
3/2 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 She looked up quickly and saw the pigeon just 
 fluttering to alight on the top of a tree near the end 
 of the house. 
 
 " Ah ! He is in the tree ! Come down, Jacob, 
 come down ! He is afraid to come to the cote with 
 you there. No no he has flown ! There he 
 wheels ! Keep quiet ! He is settling ! There he 
 is, just above your head. Gently, Jacob, gently ! 
 Don't frighten him. Ah, ah, ah ! you have him ! 
 Quick the message ! Lose no time. It must be 
 delivered at once." 
 
 She rose in such agitation of mind and in such 
 a tremor of. body that it seemed to her she had lost 
 control of herself. She swayed toward the middle 
 of the room, reaching out a hand to find support 
 where there was none, and fell to the floor, with an 
 instinctive but barely audible cry for help. 
 
 Jacob was securing the message and getting the 
 ladder in place while calling out in subdued tones to 
 the unconscious Luya : 
 
 " I have the message. Get the cipher ready. 
 We won't waste a minute. I'll go at once with it." 
 
 Presently he came up the ladder, and when his 
 eyes were on a level with the window he saw her 
 lying in that inert heap, and, in his careless eager- 
 ness to come to her relief, the ladder was thrown 
 down as he entered at the window. He bent over 
 her, calling to her to wake, and lifted her in his arms 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 373 
 
 to place her on the lounge, repeating her name into 
 her ear as he bore her across the room. 
 
 " Luya ! Luya ! wake, wake ! The message has 
 come. I have it ! Give me the cipher. Luya ! 
 Remember what is at stake ! Wake, wake ! you 
 must wake ! " 
 
 He beat at the palms of her hands and shook her 
 by the shoulders, to no avail ; and then his strong 
 fingers twisted themselves into the lacing of her 
 bodice, and, with a masterful force, snapped the 
 silken cords like threads, and with a sweep of the 
 hand set the imprisoned bosom free. Luya made a 
 slight responsive movement and a sigh came from 
 her lips ; but Jacob saw a fold of paper just slipped 
 from her uncovered breast, and, no longer having the 
 need to revive her, he took up the paper and went 
 to the table. He hurriedly unfolded the paper, saw 
 that it was the " key," opened the message, glanced 
 hastily from one to the other, translating a word or 
 two, then, crushing them both into one hand, he 
 leaned toward Luya, calling low into her ear, 
 " Wake, wake ! Good news ! Thank God for your 
 sake, Luya ! " and, not waiting to note that her lips 
 moved and that her eyelids quivered, he left her, 
 hastening from the room and down the stairs and 
 into the night. 
 
 And, as he went out by the front door, in his 
 hurry leaving it open behind him, Wallace Waring 
 
374 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 looked in through the open window upon Luya just 
 awaking from her swoon. He had been disturbed 
 by the note brought to him in the evening, and, 
 seeking relief for his feelings, had quit the players 
 at the inn for a sleep-wooing walk in the moonlight. 
 He had wandered to the Fort and come into the 
 open in time to see a man entering at Luya's window. 
 His jealousy carried him forward in a blind, un- 
 reasoning rage, and, setting the overturned ladder 
 in place, he mounted, and climbed into the room. 
 
 Luya half arose, her mind still confused, as he 
 stopped before her, dumb with anger. 
 
 "You must make haste, Jacob," she said, vaguely, 
 looking up at Wallace and seeming to be struck by 
 some strangeness of his appearance. 
 
 "You have not to urge him, madam! He has 
 made good haste, I'll be his witness. So it was 
 Jacob, then ! " 
 
 "Is it you, Wallace?" she asked, not noting the 
 fury of his speech, but brought to full consciousness 
 by it. " Why, how came you here ? " 
 
 "By the same way your lover came! you you 
 plaything ! " 
 
 The brutality of his tone, the threatening attitude 
 in which he stood, frightened and confounded her. 
 In an involuntary movement of self-defence she put 
 her hands to her bosom and so became aware of the 
 disorder of her bodice. A perception of his meaning 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 375 
 
 rushed upon her. Shame reddened her cheek as 
 she drew the two parts of the bodice together ; but 
 he laughed, and the flush of modesty gave place to 
 the pallor of indignation, and her eyes flashed as she 
 looked at him. 
 
 "Wallace!" 
 
 " Oh, play your part, play your part ! " he cried, 
 interposing to prevent her as she would have passed. 
 "It proves you are more wanton than I thought. 
 You are practised in the arts ! A simple novice 
 would shed tears, confess her fault, and whine for 
 pardon, swearing out her soul in promises ! You've 
 got beyond that weakness ! You have found out 
 how credulous men are ! You face down accusation 
 with the mask of virtue, indignant innocence. 
 And on my word you wear it bravely ! " 
 
 "Wallace!" There was all the resentment of 
 outraged womanhood in the tone. 
 
 "Oh! you are not clever enough to make me 
 discredit the evidence of my own eyes. If I have 
 been your dupe, I'll not be your fool as well. But 
 I'll listen to you. 'Twere a pity not to hear you 
 heap reproaches on me. That's in the r61e. Play 
 your part in its entirety. Come, speak the speech 
 as you have studied it ! Let outraged Virtue have 
 her oracle. Chance brought me to witness your gal- 
 lant's enterprise ; take the chance to convince me it 
 was honourable." 
 
3/6 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 During the first of this passionate tirade Luya's 
 emotions had been all but insupportable. As it con- 
 tinued, her feelings rapidly changed, pain and won- 
 derment and anger being succeeded by a sustaining 
 pride. When he mockingly bowed, giving her leave 
 to speak, she looked at him a moment in calm, superb 
 dignity, with a self-respect so complete that she no 
 longer attempted to hide the disarray of her dress. 
 Then, without a word, she crossed to her own room, 
 entered, closed the door behind her, and turned the 
 key in the lock. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 MR. WARING had finished his writing and drawn 
 close the curtains of his window. In his shirt 
 sleeves, the loose collar with its ruffle of lace turned 
 well back from his throat, he was standing before the 
 mirror, rather curiously studying the mocking face 
 reflected there. The sudden violent crash of the 
 front door knocker startled him. Something fell 
 glitteringly from his hand, and, striking on the 
 marble of the table, had a piece broken from 
 its fine edge. He looked about him fearfully, like 
 one alarmed in some lawless act. He listened to the 
 knocking, which had but brief intermittent intervals. 
 He thought noise was never so great and echoing. 
 It was like an attempt to awaken the neighbour- 
 hood. Hearing the sound of something overturned 
 in a distant part of the house, he knew the ser- 
 vants had been aroused. He feared they might 
 let in the importunate person, and, passing through 
 the next room and along a hall, he called down the 
 stairs : 
 
 Cato ! " 
 
 377 
 
3/8 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Yes, Marse Stephen ? " 
 
 "Let the door alone. Go to bed." 
 
 "Yes, Marse Stephen." 
 
 The knocking continued determinedly. Mr. War- 
 ing raised the window over the front door. 
 
 " What is it you want ? " he demanded. 
 
 " I want to speak with Mr. Waring." 
 
 " I am Mr. Waring." 
 
 " I have a thing of importance to lay before you, 
 if you will bid them let me in." 
 
 " Who are you ? " 
 
 "Jacob Wilbruch." 
 
 " Ha ! I think I can guess what you have to say 
 to me. Be good enough to leave my door in peace." 
 
 He drew in his head and was about to lower the 
 window. Jacob cried out, protestingly : 
 
 " On my honour as a man 'tis to your interest. 
 News is come from England." 
 
 Mr. Waring caught at the word. 
 
 " News from England ! Has a ship come in ? " 
 
 Jacob reasoned with uncommon rapidity or an- 
 swered from intuition, for, without hesitation, he 
 replied : 
 
 "Yes, a ship has come in." 
 
 "And the news?" Mr. Waring leaned eagerly 
 out of the window, repeating his question impatiently 
 before there was time to answer it. 
 
 "The king's army is victorious." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 3/9 
 
 " Thank God ! Thank God ! It is true, Wilbruch ? 
 It is true?" 
 
 " Absolutely true, Mr. Waring." 
 
 Mr. Waring burst into a laugh, an uncanny laugh 
 for him, for it was the laugh of a boy escaping the 
 penalty of an escapade, a gleeful laugh, yet with 
 the shiver of the past apprehension in it. He was 
 ashamed of the outburst, but could not restrain him- 
 self. He closed the window unceremoniously and 
 went back to his room, laughing as he went, and, 
 tearing into shreds the writing on the table, held the 
 ribbons of the paper in the candle flame, laughing to 
 see them burn. He blew out the lights and threw 
 himself on to the bed without undressing, drawing a 
 robe over him, and saying aloud, as if speaking to 
 some one, "If the market recovers in the morning 
 I'm saved. But if I could have had the news to 
 myself, I could have bankrupted them all ! I should 
 like to have given them a twist ! Oh, if I only had 
 another ten or twenty thousand pounds ! " 
 
 Jacob, disconcerted by the abrupt close of the con- 
 versation before he could make his explanation, stood 
 irresolute on the doorstep for some time after Mr. 
 Waring retired from the window. He felt reassured 
 by the manner in which the news had been received, 
 and, resolving to see Mr. Waring before Exchange 
 time in the morning, he went down the walk well 
 
380 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 content, intending to report his success to Luya. 
 Looking ahead as he walked, he saw a man approach- 
 ing him, who seemed to have come into the broad- 
 way from the vicinity of the Vanbergen house. As 
 they came nearer together, something familiar in the 
 carriage of the man struck him ; but, before he could 
 distinguish who it was, the other called out : 
 
 " Draw, if you have a weapon to defend yourself ! " 
 
 " I am unarmed," Jacob said, " but I should not 
 draw on you if I were not. I have no quarrel with 
 you." 
 
 " It shall not be said that I waylaid you like an 
 assassin in the night, though I swear my con- 
 science would acquit me were I to kill you as you 
 were a rat ! But you shall fight me before the sun 
 is an hour high ; you shall, or, by heaven, the town 
 shall know the why of it 1 " 
 
 " I don't know what has come over you, but 
 you are doing yourself and me a wrong. If you 
 know what has passed to-night " 
 
 "Don't bandy words with me! I've seen your 
 doxy ! " Jacob started at the word, "I know well 
 enough what has passed to-night ! You can't lie 
 out of it ! You can't trick me as you did before ! 
 You shall fight for your demirep, your pretty 
 blonde baggage, or the town shall know how I 
 scared you from her arms this midnight " 
 
 Jacob, uttering a cry that was at once a roar of 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 381 
 
 anguish and of rage, sprang forward, gripping Wal- 
 lace by the throat to strangle his speech. He was 
 transformed into a fury. He bore Wallace to the 
 ground, and held his head backward across his knee, 
 panting as if it were his own breast from which the 
 breath was being crushed. He paid no attention to 
 Wallace's struggles. 
 
 " Yes, I will fight you ! You are not worthy to 
 have her. I'll take her from you. You have dared 
 to insult her. I shall avenge that. But you shall not 
 make her your reason for fighting me. You shall 
 not dishonour her by bringing her name to the sup- 
 port of your knavery. You shall fight me for this, 
 that I'm treating you like a scullion, that I have 
 choked you like a dog, that I have flung you in 
 the dust like a rag. I'll fight you now ! " 
 
 Jacob flung Wallace from him and stood erect, 
 waiting till Wallace should recover the power to 
 answer him. It was more the humbled pride than 
 the hurt body that made Wallace so slow in rising to 
 his feet. He could hardly credit his senses. The 
 assault was so unexpected, was of a character so 
 little to be anticipated, that he was as incapable of 
 understanding it as he had been unable to avert it. 
 His soul revolted against the unmanly degradation ; 
 and his pride was all the more bitterly stung because 
 he believed that the man who had so unpardonably 
 humbled him had added this brutal injury to a most 
 
382 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 infamous betrayal. When he had risen to his feet, 
 therefore, his state of mind was aggravated by the 
 thought that he must meet this man on terms of 
 equality, must fight with this ruffian as if he were 
 a gentleman. Wallace took up his hat from the 
 ground, brushed the dust from his dress with his 
 handkerchief, adjusted his sword in the sash, and, 
 ready to go, said, with composure enough : 
 
 "There need not be any delay over preliminaries. 
 I shall be at the Black Horse Inn with a friend at 
 eight o'clock. Small swords or pistols ? " 
 
 " Small swords." 
 
 Wallace bowed, and, turning about, went in the 
 direction of the inn. Jacob stood for a considerable 
 time irresolute. He was uncertain how to proceed 
 with regard to Luya. He felt that he was in some 
 way accountable to her for the shameful insinuations 
 against her which his ears had heard and which his 
 hands had not adequately punished. He thought he 
 must go to her in contrition, asking pardon that 
 he should have been the occasion of reproach to her. 
 But he was ignorant what had passed between Luya 
 and Wallace, and how far he was privileged to intrude 
 upon Luya's confidence. He went reluctantly toward 
 the house, persuading himself to silence. There was 
 still a light in Luya's room. He knocked gently on 
 the outer door, which some one had closed after 
 him. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 383 
 
 Presently the door opened a little way. 
 
 " I thought you would come, Jacob. Is it all 
 well?" 
 
 "Yes. Only I did not have the chance to show 
 Mr. Waring the message or give him the cheque." 
 
 " That does not matter, if the worst dread is over. 
 You can see him again in the morning." She spoke 
 with little interest, he thought. 
 
 " I shall hardly have time. I must think of your 
 father's interests. I have much to do. I'll leave the 
 message and the cheque with you. You can get 
 them to Mr. Waring." 
 
 " I think I do not care to do that." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 He detected a tinge of bitterness in her tone, and 
 there was an eagerness in his question. She did not 
 choose that Jacob should know of the scene between 
 her and Wallace, and, fearing that she had indicated 
 too much of her feeling, she hastened to say : 
 
 "Leave them with me. It is right that he have 
 the help he needs. I'll go to him myself early in 
 the morning." 
 
 He gave her the message and the " key," and took 
 from his pocketbook the cheque he had expected to 
 give Mr. Waring with the news. 
 
 Luya had come down-stairs with the fear in her 
 heart that Wallace and Jacob might have met, and, 
 though Jacob's manner and talk relieved her mind 
 
384 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 of that fear, there was still a lingering uneasiness. 
 When she had taken the papers and he was turning 
 away with a " good night," she ventured a question. 
 
 " It is so beautiful out, 'tis a great pity there is no 
 one abroad to see ! I am almost tempted to have 
 you take me to the Battery. There must be a won- 
 derful light on the water. Is there no one stirring 
 but you ? " 
 
 "There seems to be no one." 
 
 " And you have seen no one at all ? " 
 
 " No one." 
 
 " Our people are not romantic. Good night, or, 
 to speak by the hour, good morning." 
 
 Jacob held her hand a moment hesitatingly, and 
 then lifted it to his lips and kissed it reverently. 
 Kissing hands was not in Jacob's fashion, and she 
 wondered. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 IT was half-past seven, and the first purple of the 
 morning was still faint on the rim of the sea. Work 
 was doing by candle-light at the Black Horse Inn. 
 Mr. Todd was standing in the back parlour, looking 
 through the double doors, directing the men who 
 were clearing the upper end of the state dining-room. 
 
 " Leave that window looking on the garden open. 
 There'll be need of air. Drop the curtains of the 
 street windows. There will be light enough at 
 eight." 
 
 Wallace entered the parlour while Mr. Todd was 
 speaking. 
 
 " Mr. Bradford hasn't come yet, Todd ? " 
 
 " Not yet. But there is still half an hour. You 
 are all ready, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I've been ready these five hours. I wonder 
 at Bradford's delay." 
 
 " I could wish there were no occasion to his com- 
 ing, Mr. Waring. I hope the affair is not so serious 
 but a scratch or two will mend it." 
 
 " If the scratch be deep enough. You have had 
 word from Surgeon Bailin ? " 
 
 385 
 
386 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 "Yes ; he is waiting in the coffee-room." 
 
 " Egad ! 'tis well the surgeon at least is prompt." 
 
 " Have you breakfasted ? " 
 
 "I'm not in stomach. I look to the exercise to 
 give me appetite." 
 
 " I hope, sir, you'll have an appetite after it," said 
 Mr. Todd, ruefully going toward the double doors 
 to close them. " I think everything is in order. If 
 there is anything you wish " 
 
 " Thank you, Todd, there is nothing. Ah, Allen,' 1 
 he cried, going to receive Bradford, who came in 
 at the side door, " I was beginning to wish for you." 
 
 "I've been delayed," Bradford said, holding out 
 his left hand, his right being encumbered with a 
 rapier case. 
 
 " No matter. Now that you are come By 
 your leave, Todd." 
 
 "I was going. These doors will be locked on 
 the inside. You will enter from the hall." He 
 retired, drawing together the heavy curtains and 
 closing the doors. 
 
 " What has happened, Wallace ? " Bradford asked, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "You have the answer in your hand. Let me 
 see them." 
 
 He took the case and placed it on the table and 
 undid the fastenings. 
 
 "Yes, but the circumstances," urged Bradford. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 387 
 
 "Who is your adversary? And what the deuce 
 has pushed you on to such haste ? " 
 
 Wallace had taken out one of the rapiers and was 
 testing it. 
 
 "I could have wished them heavier. But 'tis 
 firm enough to find that bastard's heart, I'll be 
 bound ! " 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking ? Who is the man ? " 
 
 " Must you be told ? Haven't you guessed ? 
 Can't your mind pick out the scoundrel ? Is there 
 another man who could have Oh, Allen ! " he 
 cried, flinging down the rapiers and going passion- 
 ately to Bradford, "I've been tricked duped 
 betrayed made the butt of a Oh, I've got 
 the fire of hell burning in my brain I shall go 
 mad if I think of it ! I'll kill him I'll reach her 
 heart through his I'll take such revenge as I can ! " 
 
 " Good Heaven, Wallace, you're not fit to fight 
 a duel in this state ! You tremble like a leaf." 
 
 " Yes, because I'm a fool, a wretched, miserable 
 fool with a heart, Allen ! For I loved her ! God 
 pity me, I love her now love her in spite of it ! 
 I tremble because I am not man enough to despise 
 the woman who has wronged me ! I should have 
 forgiven her I confess it I should have for- 
 given her if she had so much as wept! But 
 not a word ! Not a word of shame ! Not a tear of 
 penitence! " 
 
388 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 Bradford grasped him by the arm, shocked by 
 the suspicion in his mind. 
 
 " Are you talking of " 
 
 "Yes, yes, of her!" Wallace interrupted, vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 " Luya ? " 
 
 " Of whom else ? " 
 
 "And the man is " 
 
 "Jacob Wilbruch! Yes! Damn them, damn 
 them ! " 
 
 Bradford was dumfounded. His intelligence re- 
 volted against an accusation so incredible. 
 
 "You have gone clean out of reason, Wallace. 
 The thing is not to be thought of. Nothing is more 
 unbelievable. Jacob Wilbruch would not wrong her 
 for the universe. And she Good God ! Jealousy 
 has made a madman of you ! " 
 
 "Oh! I have said that no less than a thousand 
 times in the last three hours, and a thousand times 
 my doubts have been answered by the testimony of 
 my own eyes. I came upon them, surprised them 
 in the midnight rendezvous. I saw him clamber in 
 at her window, and followed him. I must have 
 made a noise to alarm him, for he had fled when I 
 entered the room. But she ugh ! And she was 
 dumb dumb and brazened it out with her si- 
 lence " 
 
 " Whatever the appearances may be " 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 389 
 
 " Facts facts we are talking of facts, not 
 appearances." 
 
 " I don't believe it." 
 
 " You don't believe it ! " 
 
 " No ; I believe nothing to the discredit of that 
 lady." 
 
 "Oh ! I remember now," Wallace laughed. "You 
 had a fancy for her once yourself ! You, too, thought 
 so much loveliness must have something of saintli- 
 ness in it, and, not being the victim of the illusion, 
 you still believe in it. Then you refuse to serve 
 me?" 
 
 " I hope to serve you to some reason." 
 
 " Spare yourself the trouble. My preceptor this 
 morning shall be a yard of steel ; and I swear, 
 Allen, I should be glad if the lesson went home 
 to my heart. But if you do not think to second 
 me " 
 
 " There's no talk of that, Wallace. I will serve 
 you because I am your friend, and because I would 
 not have some one else in my place prying at the 
 cause of the quarrel. But I think you are rushing 
 blindly into a crime, a crime against as pure a 
 woman " 
 
 " I would to God it were so, Allen ! Come to my 
 room. We've not much time to waste, and I have 
 a foolish thing of a will there which I'd have you 
 witness. I have a presentiment " 
 
3QO IN OLD NEW YORK, 
 
 " Pish, man ! We'll have nothing to do with such 
 devil's pranks as presentiments ! " 
 
 He returned the rapiers to the case and, taking 
 it up, followed Wallace out of the room. As they 
 were passing a window, going up the stairs, Wallace 
 stopped and looked out. 
 
 " There is my father ! What brings him out so 
 early ? And he seems in spirit, Allen ! I hope he 
 is ; though I marvel he should be." And, continu- 
 ing up the stairs, he added, " Gad, 'tis odd that my 
 father and I should be indebted to the same little 
 Judas for our different bad fortunes." 
 
 "You begin the day betimes, Mr. Waring," said 
 Surgeon Bailin, greeting the entrance of Mr. Stephen 
 Waring into the inn. 
 
 "When I have reason, surgeon," Mr. Waring re- 
 plied, cheerfully. "I take this to be a propitious 
 day, and come to drink my dish of tea where I can 
 have the news with it." 
 
 " If you could get your news as fresh as the tea, 
 it might be worth the exertion, Mr. Waring. But I 
 shall be pleased to trade some old news for ten min- 
 utes of your company." 
 
 "Indeed," said Mr. Waring, seating himself, 
 " there is the mould of two months on our freshest 
 news ; but news is like cheese, the better for being 
 ripe when served. A pot of tea if you please, Todd, 
 and a hot bun." 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 391 
 
 " Happy to have the rare honour of serving you, 
 Mr. Waring. And. I am sorry to begin by begging 
 you to excuse the surgeon, who is asked for." 
 
 Mr. Todd gave him a significant look, warning him 
 to be guarded before Mr. Waring. 
 
 " Well, as I am not to have your company, Mr. 
 Waring, you cannot blame me if I keep my news ; 
 though, truth to say, I should have been plaguily put 
 to invention to amus'e you, unless you have in you 
 enough science to appreciate the art with which I 
 came between Dominie Small and a carbuncle on 
 Wednesday last. But that is news will keep for 
 an older telling." The surgeon went out, laughing, 
 following the direction given by Mr. Todd. 
 
 " And what are the particulars of the news, Todd ? 
 Was it a decisive victory ? " 
 
 " Victory, Mr. Waring ? " Mr. Todd asked, much 
 perplexed. " Of what victory do you speak, sir ? " 
 
 " The king's victory over the French, to be sure. 
 The victory over Charles Edward and his rabble. 
 Come, come, man, don't stare till your eyes drop out. 
 Have you not yet heard the news the ship brought 
 in last night ? " 
 
 Mr. Waring spoke with sinking heart and paling 
 cheeks. He understood from Mr. Todd's perplexity 
 that a deception had been practised upon him. He 
 anticipated the answer. 
 
 " No ship came in last night, Mr. Waring." 
 
392 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 He started to arise from the table, but was seized 
 with such a trembling of the legs that he sank back 
 into the chair. He saw that the innkeeper believed 
 him to be suffering a mental disturbance, and was 
 regarding him with solicitude. He could not bear to 
 be pitied. 
 
 " You must allow me my little jest, Todd. But I 
 have a sudden spasm of the heart, an old weakness, 
 and it takes the jest out of me. I know no ship 
 has come in. I think I think I'll have you fetch 
 my tea into the back parlor. I should like to lie 
 on the sofa awhile. I'll be quite myself in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 He rose resolutely, and, declaring that he was 
 already better, declined Mr. Todd's arm and went in 
 the direction of the parlour. As he was passing 
 along the corridor he unheedingly heard a boy's 
 voice saying at the side entrance : 
 
 " I know the way to the parlour, Luya. I'll show 
 you, and then I'll find him for you." 
 
 As he reached the door, he heard the boy's voice 
 say: 
 
 "There he is just ahead of us." And this time 
 Waring looked around, pausing in the doorway. He 
 recognised Luya, and his hands clenched and the 
 muscles of his face contracted under the shock of 
 his anger. It seemed as if he would strike her, but 
 she came fearlessly to him. 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 393 
 
 " I have come to speak with you, Mr. Waring. I 
 saw you pass our house. I tried to overtake you." 
 
 " What is your motive in pursuing and hounding 
 me ? " 
 
 " I wish to befriend you, Mr. Waring, by doing you 
 a timely service. The news you had last night " 
 
 " So ! It was your doing, then ! I might have 
 known it, since it was your lover who came to tor- 
 ment me ! And you thought, you Jezebel, that you 
 would play upon my weakness, and beat down my 
 mind to match with my fallen fortune ! But you 
 failed in that, you see. I have mind enough to look 
 through the mask of youth and innocence you wear 
 down into your vicious heart ! " 
 
 He entered the room and would have closed the 
 door, but Luya, holding Hendrik by the hand, fol- 
 lowed so close upon him that she was on the thresh- 
 old when he turned. She was frightened and 
 trembling, but nothing short of physical violence 
 could have prevented her saying to him what self- 
 respect bade her say. 
 
 " You must listen to me, Mr. Waring ! " 
 
 " I want none of your tricks and inventions ! Be 
 good enough to leave me ! " 
 
 "As soon, Mr. Waring, as I have convinced you 
 of your mistake. There have been no tricks and 
 inventions, there was no deception. The news was 
 
394 IN OLD NElv YORK. 
 
 " As true as that a ship came in last night ! Have 
 done with this barefaced impudence " 
 
 "The ship has not yet come in, it cannot get in 
 to-day ; but I have its news. It needs but a min- 
 ute to convince you, if you have enough reasonable- 
 ness to listen." 
 
 She spoke with such positiveness that he moved 
 aside mechanically, and she pressed into the room. 
 Motioning Hendrik to go to the window, she took 
 from the silk bag on her arm the message and a 
 carefully written translation of it, which she laid 
 side by side upon the table. Mr. Waring, in spite 
 of himself, watched her movements with interest, 
 a hope of which he was hardly conscious laying 
 a restraint upon his anger. Her self-possession 
 returned to her, and she spoke quietly, indifferent, 
 apparently, whether or not he should credit her 
 words, being merely concerned to quit a duty to 
 herself. 
 
 "This message was brought by a carrier-pigeon 
 from my father. It is authentic. This is the trans- 
 lation. My father sailed three days ago, at my urg- 
 ing, to meet the ship from England. This is the 
 news he got from that ship, the Hester: 
 
 " Young Pretender beaten. French and Scotch forces 
 scattered. Great victory for the king. Confidence restored. 
 Tell Jacob to buy freely.' " 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 395 
 
 Mr. Waring' s face gave indication of a struggle 
 of the emotions, but it was evident that doubt and 
 distrust were uppermost, and there was something 
 like a sneer on his lips. Luya noted these unfavour- 
 able signs with kindling pride. She even wondered 
 at herself for caring to convince this man of her 
 honesty, this stupidly arrogant man, whose son 
 had so grossly forfeited his and his father's rights 
 to her consideration. But it would be a satisfaction 
 to make this man understand her contempt of his 
 sneers, and to humble him with the knowledge that 
 she was really holding out a fortune to his taking. 
 She went on with a sense of pleasure in admitting 
 him into a confidence she would not have let him 
 share under more favourable conditions. 
 
 " I watched day and night for the coming of that 
 message, in order that you might have the news in 
 time to save yourself, and you had it within a quarter 
 of an hour of its coming, a well-timed coming, I 
 think." 
 
 A shiver went through Mr. Waring as he remem- 
 bered the timely knocking at his door. His eyes 
 went down under her gaze. 
 
 " You ask what my motive was," she continued, 
 noting the change in him. " My object was to win 
 your favour. I am not ashamed to say that I hoped 
 by doing you this service to gain your consent to my 
 marriage with your son, for I thought your son loved 
 
396 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 me as loyally as I loved him. What I have gained 
 is the most incredible insults from you both, 
 insults so base that they have killed my love, so 
 unwarranted that they no longer wound my pride. 
 Your favour or disapprobation is nothing to me now. 
 Your son defamed me on account of the man who 
 was helping to save your honour. I come to you 
 now with news and a cheque that should enable 
 you to retrieve and advance your fortune, only be- 
 cause I would not lower my self-respect by taking 
 the revenge I might. They are there on the table ; 
 do with them what you please. Come, Hendrik." 
 
 She moved toward the door. Mr. Waring, mas- 
 tered by the convincing sincerity of her manner and 
 words, hurried to intercept her. 
 
 " Miss Vanbergen, wait, I beg of you. I am con- 
 vinced of the truth of what you say. I have wronged 
 you ; I ask your pardon. Let us come to an un- 
 derstanding. Let us clear up the mistakes. Send 
 the child away," the last words being a whispered 
 request. 
 
 Luya was not of a mind to continue the scene, 
 but at his earnest pleading yielded, and pushed 
 Hendrik gently toward the door, bidding him wait 
 for her in front of the inn. But the child had a 
 feeling that Luya needed a protector near her, for 
 he distrusted Mr. Waring. Pale-faced, gray-haired 
 men whose eyes burned like fire were uncanny folk 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 397 
 
 to leave alone with girls. He begged to be allowed 
 to stay. 
 
 "I'll be good. I won't listen. I'll wait by the 
 window, behind the curtain." 
 
 He went to take up the position as he spoke, and 
 saw, to his joy, that large, downy flakes of snow, the 
 first heralds of winter, had begun chasing each other 
 hither and thither through the air or tumbling to 
 the ground to rest. After one exclamation of delight, 
 his spirit slipped into that absence and quiet which 
 let the voices of nature be heard, and the gamboling 
 snowflakes became as playfellows to him, and led 
 him whither they listed. 
 
 Mr. Waring demanded eagerly of Luya all the par- 
 ticulars of the sending and return of the pigeons, 
 of the arrival at midnight, and of Jacob's share in 
 it all ; and, thoroughly convinced that the news was 
 trustworthy and that it meant his salvation, he rose 
 and came to stand in front of her. 
 
 "I have all along been unjust to you. I have 
 been wrong in my speech and manner toward you. 
 You have proved in the most generous and mag- 
 nanimous way how unworthy I was to judge you, 
 how little I knew or understood you. I won't thank 
 you for what you have done ; instead, I ask you to 
 do me yet another kindness, forgive me! Can 
 you do that ? " 
 
 He held out both his hands to her, and she put 
 
39^ IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 hers into them, rising as she did so and smiling 
 faintly. 
 
 " If there is anything I need to forgive I forgive 
 you. And you can forgive me, too." 
 
 He held her hands in silence for a little time, 
 looking into her face meditatively; then, shaking 
 his head slowly, he said : 
 
 "No, I've nothing to forgive you. It is true I 
 should not have been brought to such perilous straits 
 if I had remained in business with your father. But 
 I have learned something that was worth the risk, 
 if I come fairly out." Then, imagining that he had 
 spoken too freely, admitted too much, he said, as 
 if to explain his words, " I have learned to respect 
 honest merchantry. I find that 'tis not every fool 
 can make a good tradesman ! " 
 
 He turned to the table and took up the cheque. 
 He fingered it irresolutely for awhile, then folded 
 it, tendering it to Luya. 
 
 "I shall not need this. I can get what money 
 I want from my banker on the strength of the news 
 your pigeons have brought. Boylston will think 
 better of my securities now." He laughed, the 
 sense of freedom and power being very pleasant to 
 him. "But I shall express my gratitude to Mr. 
 Wilbruch." 
 
 She took the cheque, rather sorry, after all, that 
 Mr. Waring could depend on Mr. Boylston's assist- 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 399 
 
 ance. She called to Hendrik and was going, when 
 Mr. Waring put out his hands again to take hers. 
 
 " I shall call on your father when he returns. I 
 have something to ask him. I wish to take his 
 daughter from him." 
 
 The colour came into her cheeks, but she looked 
 steadily into his eyes, withdrawing her hands from 
 his. 
 
 " That is over, Mr. Waring." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 BEFORE Mr. Waring's astonishment allowed him 
 to question Luya, Mr. Todd entered the parlour, 
 hurriedly. 
 
 " I have taken the liberty to have your tea served 
 in another room, Mr. Waring. It is quite ready." 
 
 " I prefer to have it here, Todd, if it is the same 
 to you. And I hope Miss Vanbergen will drink a 
 cup with me." Mr. Waring laid his hand on Luya's 
 detainingly. 
 
 "Not in here, I beg of you, Mr. Waring," Mr. 
 Todd said, urgently. "This room is under engage- 
 ment, sir." Then, coming close to Mr. Waring, and 
 speaking in a confidential whisper, he added, "A 
 matter between gentlemen is being settled in the 
 dining-room, sir. If an accident should happen, this 
 room would be wanted." 
 
 " A duel, Todd ! " exclaimed Mr. Waring, aloud. 
 
 " A duel ! " Luya repeated, an intuitive fear seiz- 
 ing upon her heart. " Between whom, Mr. Todd ? " 
 grasping his arm nervously, as if to force an answer 
 from him. " Who are to fight the duel ? Is it Mr. 
 Wilbruch ? Is it Mr. Waring ? " 
 
 400 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 40 1 
 
 " Wilbruch ! Waring ! Good God, Todd ! Is my 
 son at a duel with Mr. Wilbruch ? " He started for 
 the curtained double doors, but Mr. Todd held him 
 back. 
 
 " Have a care, Mr. Waring ! The door is locked, 
 and any noise to disturb their attention would be 
 most unfortunate, sir." 
 
 " Are they in there ? " Luya asked, under her 
 breath, and, running to the door, she snatched one 
 of the curtains aside to listen, falling to her knees 
 and pressing her ear to the keyhole. 
 
 " Is it my son ? " demanded Mr. Waring, greatly 
 agitated. " Answer me ! Answer me ! " 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Waring, it is your son, and Mr. Wil- 
 bruch." 
 
 "Oh!" moaned Luya, kneeling by the door, "I 
 can hear them moving about I can hear the strik- 
 ing of their swords." 
 
 She rose suddenly, her face blanched, her hands 
 trembling, and came to Mr. Waring, imploringly 
 passionate. 
 
 " Prevent it ! Stop it ! In God's name, Mr. War- 
 ing, don't let it go on. It is your son ! It is the man 
 who befriended you ! It is the man who came to 
 you last night ! Stop them, stop them ! " 
 
 She clung to him desperately, repeating the demand 
 over and over as if his will could end the combat. 
 
 "He can't stop them, Miss Luya," -Mr. Todd said, 
 
402 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 kindly but insistently. " The doors are locked. And 
 if there is any disturbance here it may cost the life 
 of one of them. You had best come away." 
 
 Mr. Waring put his arm about her to comfort and 
 soothe her, though he was scarcely less tremulous 
 than she. 
 
 " Mr. Todd is right, my child. We can do nothing. 
 We dare not interfere. Leave us, Todd, leave us. 
 We'll wait here in silence." 
 
 Mr. Todd unwillingly retired, leaving them. As 
 the door closed behind him, Luya started at the 
 sound, imagining it to be the unlocking of the double 
 doors, and ran to them. She took hold of the knob 
 and turned it, pushing at the doors, and, in a sudden 
 frenzy of fear, called out : 
 
 " Wallace ! Wallace ! It is a crime you are doing ! 
 In pity's name, some one unlock the door ! lf And 
 she began beating at the doors. 
 
 There was an exclamation of rage from the room 
 beyond, for Wallace had recognised her voice, and 
 thrust at Jacob with reckless violence as he cried : 
 
 "A sweetheart to the rescue! " 
 
 Mr. Waring had hurried to Luya and grasped her 
 hands, forcing her away from the door. 
 
 "My child, think what you are doing! One un- 
 guarded thrust might be fatal " 
 
 "But if they fight to the end, what then? Oh, 
 Mr. Waring, something can be done ! Something 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 403 
 
 must be done ! I lied to you ! I love your son ! 
 Save him ! He will obey you. Speak to him ! Call 
 to him ! He will stop at your bidding." 
 
 " Listen to me, Luya. There is but one thing can 
 be done. It is a desperate chance, and a dangerous 
 chance. See there," pointing to the window, "you 
 can see that a window to the dining-room is open. 
 The child might climb through " 
 
 Luya caught instantly at the idea. 
 
 " He can, he will ! Hendrik ! " 
 
 She ran to the corner where Hendrik was 
 crouched down, weeping in silent terror of he knew 
 not what, and took his head between her hands, 
 murmuring encouragement, and kissing his tears 
 away. 
 
 "If he is careful, they will be too much engaged 
 to notice him " 
 
 "Yes, yes, Hendrik understands," Luya inter- 
 rupted, eagerly. "He will be careful, he will be 
 brave. You are to unlock the door, Hendrik. It 
 must be done quickly, before any one can stop you. 
 The minute you are in the room, run straight for the 
 door and turn the key 
 
 " Yes, sister Luya ; I'll do what you tell me." 
 
 Mr. Waring had raised the parlour window, and 
 they helped Hendrik out, Mr. Waring leaning down 
 and holding the boy at arm's length to shorten the 
 drop to the ground. On striking the ground, Hen- 
 
404 IN OLD NEW YORK:. 
 
 drik fell full length in the light snow, but was up 
 before they could wonder if he were hurt, and ran 
 to the trellis under the dining-room window. He 
 climbed quickly to the window, and, as he paused at a 
 signal from Mr. Waring, to look cautiously into the 
 room, Luya hurried to the door and stood with her 
 hand on the knob in feverish readiness to push in the 
 instant the key turned in the lock. She stood there, 
 panting. The time seemed so long that she feared 
 that the plan had failed. She could hear the play of 
 steel against steel, the shuffling of feet on the oak 
 boards, the intermittent sounds and exclamations of 
 men in deadly excitement, and suddenly the cry, " A 
 hit ! " followed by an angry denial and a redoubled 
 energy of striking steel. Seconds only were passing, 
 but she thought them minutes, and she could not 
 repress the emotion that swelled to her lips in the 
 fear of Hendrik's failure. She called out to Mr. 
 Waring, hysterically : 
 
 " They have stopped him ! They have stopped 
 him! Hendrik! Hendrik ! " 
 
 But, while she was yet uttering the name, the door 
 swung open under her pressure, and she was precip- 
 itated into the room at such an impetus that she was 
 carried into the very midst of the group, and fell 
 against Jacob's breast, he catching her with his arm. 
 It was at the very moment when Wallace, whose back 
 was to the door, took advantage of Jacob's distracted 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 405 
 
 attention to make a savage thrust. The blade, as 
 slender as that of a poniard, passed through Luya's 
 arm into Jacob's side. 
 
 Wallace drew back his sword and flung it to the 
 floor. 
 
 " I've killed her ! " he cried, seeing her limp and 
 silent in Jacob's embrace, and would have taken her 
 in his own arms, but Jacob put out a hand against 
 him. 
 
 Surgeon Bailin quieted the confusion with profes- 
 sional coolness. 
 
 " No excitement, gentlemen ! Place her in this 
 chair. So. Let me see. But you are wounded, 
 Wilbruch ! " he exclaimed, catching sight of the 
 stain in Jacob's shirt. 
 
 "No, it is her blood. Look to her," Jacob re- 
 plied. 
 
 And while the surgeon was bending over Luya, 
 Wallace and Bradford and Mr. Waring pressing near, 
 Jacob stood a little distant from them, with his left 
 hand held against his side, and his rapier grasped in 
 his right. 
 
 Mr. Manning, his second, came to Jacob, inquiring 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Are you hurt, Wilbruch ? " 
 
 " 'Tis but a touch. It hardly bleeds." 
 
 " Let me take your sword." 
 
 " Not until I know." 
 
406 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 " Know what ? " 
 
 If he has killed her." 
 
 Manning looked into Jacob's face, and read his 
 purpose. Jacob was standing in sword's length of 
 Wallace, who was kneeling beside Luya's chair. 
 
 " Just Heaven ! Are you thinking of such a thing ? " 
 demanded Manning, in a whisper. "Would you 
 murder a man in cold blood ? " 
 
 "I should not think it a murder," Jacob said, 
 calmly. 
 
 Manning took hold of the sword, attempting to get 
 possession of it quietly. Jacob gripped it firmly. 
 They stood waiting, each with a hand on the sword. 
 
 " Well, surgeon ? " asked Wallace. 
 
 "As I thought," replied Surgeon Bailin. "Tis 
 but a prick in the arm. A matter of a few days' 
 bandaging. A healthier arm, with blood to match, 
 never came under my eyes. But there is something 
 amiss with the nervous system. It is too much keyed 
 up. I shall have to tell Vanbergen to allow his 
 daughter less excitement. Well, we'll dress this 
 pretty puncture and I'll be obliged to the one that 
 shall hand me a basin of water." 
 
 Hendrik was off at the word, the tears that terror 
 had frozen in his heart flooding his eyes under the 
 glow of love reassured. 
 
 Jacob released his hold on the sword, permitting 
 Manning to take it, and went to a sofa near the 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 407 
 
 window, sitting in a half-reclining position and keep- 
 ing his eyes fixed on the surgeon and Luya. 
 
 " You are sure your hurt does not need prompt 
 attention ? " Manning asked, anxiously. " Let me 
 look at it." 
 
 " My hurt does not require a surgeon, Manning," 
 Jacob said, smiling and putting him off. " But, after 
 he is quite done attending to Luya, Bailin may put 
 on a bit of plaister, if he thinks it worth troubling 
 about. I don't." 
 
 Wallace had risen to his feet with a "Thank 
 God ! " when he learned that Luya's wound was not 
 serious, and Mr. Waring, putting a hand on his 
 shoulder, said, in a low tone : 
 
 "We may well thank God, my son." 
 
 Wallace looked into his father's face, surprised by 
 the friendliness of the voice and manner. 
 
 " And we may thank him not only that the acci- 
 dent to her was small, but that you did no harm to 
 your adversary, for they are both our benefactors." 
 
 He linked his arm in with Wallace's in the old 
 familiar way, as if quarrel had never come between 
 them, and, leading him into the next room, told him, 
 still speaking in confidential tone, the story of the 
 midnight message and his deliverance from ruin. 
 Wallace was profoundly touched by the recital. The 
 main circumstances recounted by his father per- 
 mitted him to supply from his own facts many of 
 
408 IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 the essential details that made clear the whole ad- 
 venture, which he had so grossly misjudged. Con- 
 science set him on the rack of remorse, for he rec- 
 ognised his conduct as a crime against Luya and 
 against Jacob as well. Busy with these thoughts 
 and his purpose of reparation, he hardly heard, and 
 certainly did not comprehend, what his father was 
 saying as to his own obligations to Wilbruch and 
 Luya, especially the ambiguous phrase, " I owe it to 
 them that I can judge with charity my son's tempta- 
 tion to cover disgrace with a crime, for they saved 
 me in a more shameful moment." But he under- 
 stood the final " Let us be closer friends henceforth, 
 Wallace ; and see to it, lad, that you have the virtue 
 to make friends with them." 
 
 He hurried again into the parlour, where the sur- 
 geon was chatting with Luya, Bradford looking on 
 smilingly. 
 
 " We are quite ourselves now, eh ? Hartshorn is 
 a sovereign restorer. You find the pressure on your 
 arm a little tight ? Never mind that. To-morrow 
 or the next day, if you are good, we'll abate it the 
 smallest fraction of an inch. And, to prevent in- 
 flammation, I'll write a prescription, if I can find a 
 bit of paper big enough to scribble a monk's prayer 
 on." 
 
 He turned to his coat to find his note-book, as 
 Wallace came to throw himself down beside Luya, 
 
IN OLD NEW YORK. 409 
 
 unmindful of those about him, and take her hand and 
 cover it with kisses, saying, hurriedly and brokenly : 
 
 " Forgive me, forgive me ! It was not I it was 
 a madman a poor, blind fool, Luya, that you 
 should pity ! I'll make amends don't condemn 
 me though I merit only your scorn I am only 
 fit to be despised I was unworthy of your love 
 but forgive me forgive me out of your goodness 
 forgive me! " 
 
 Luya leaned forward, bending her head toward 
 Wallace. 
 
 There was a sharp, frightened cry from Manning : 
 
 " Surgeon Bailin, quick ! " 
 
 They looked in the direction of the cry, startled 
 by its suddenness, and saw Manning lifting Jacob 
 back on to the sofa from which he had just fallen 
 forward, being caught in Manning's arms, who had 
 but returned to him after a five minutes' absence. 
 
 Surgeon Bailin was quickly at Jacob's side, Luya 
 and the others, greatly alarmed, following closely. 
 
 Bailin stooped over and hastily pulled open Jacob's 
 shirt. 
 
 "Great God! he has been bleeding to death for 
 the last half-hour, while I have been toying with a 
 scratch ! " 
 
 He hurried back to the table to get his instru- 
 ments, as Luya, too stunned to utter sound, pushed 
 by and flung herself to her knees beside Jacob, 
 
4IO IN OLD NEW YORK. 
 
 moaning his name and stroking her hand down 
 over his face as one sometimes wakes a sleeping 
 child. 
 
 "Don't drive me -away," she said, when the sur- 
 geon came again and would have raised her from her 
 place. " He doesn't need you now ! " 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BY NEILL AND CO., LTD., EDINBURGH. 
 
THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY