The Bow of Orange Ribbon - A Romance of New York

Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr

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• Publié par: uttu
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 91
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bow of Orange Ribbon, by Amelia E. Barr
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Title: The Bow of Orange Ribbon
A Romance of New York
Author: Amelia E. Barr
Illustrator: Theo. Hampe
Release Date: November 28, 2005 [EBook #17173]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON ***
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Paul Ereaut and the Online
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THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON
A ROMANCE OF NEW YORK
BY AMELIA E. BARR
AUTHOR OF "JAN VEDDER'S WIFE"
"A DAUGHTER OF FIFE" ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THEO. HAMPE NEW YORK DODD, MEAD &
COMPANY PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1886, 1893 BY DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
All rights reserved
Typography
BY ROCKWELL AND CHURCHILL,
BostonPresswork
BY JOHN WILSON AND SON,
Cambridge.
BY PERMISSION
This Book is Dedicated
TO THE
HOLLAND SOCIETY OF NEW YORK
Contents
Chapter
I II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI.
PAGE
She was going down the steps with him Frontispiece
May in New York one hundred and twenty-one years ago 3
Joris Van Heemskirk 4
Locking-up the cupboards 7
She was tying on her white apron 11
"Come awa', my bonnie lassie" 13Knitting 16
Neil and Bram 19
Tail-piece 20
Chapter heading 21
With her spelling-book and Heidelberg 24
The amber necklace 27
In one of those tall-backed Dutch chairs 34
Tail-piece 38
Chapter heading 39
He heard her calling him to breakfast 42
The quill pens must be mended 49
A Guelderland flagon 53
"A very proper love-knot" 57
Tail-piece 62
Chapter heading 63
Hyde flung off the touch with a passionate oath 65
Batavius stood at the mainmast 67
He took her in his arms 71
A little black boy entered 75
Tail-piece 82
Chapter heading 83
"Sir, you are very uncivil" 89
"Listen to me, thy father!" 97
He took his solitary tea 102
On the steps of the houses 105
Tail-piece 106
Chapter heading 107
"Katherine, I am in great earnest" 110
"In the interim, at your service" 116
"Why do you wait?" 122
The swords of both men sprung from their hands 125
Tail-piece 127
Chapter heading 128
Oh, how she wept! 133
"O Bram! is he dead?" 137
The streets were noisy with hawkers 146
Katherine was close to his side 151
Tail-piece 155Chapter heading 156
In its satin depths 162
Katherine knelt by Richard's side 164
"I am faint" 175
"Don't trouble yourself to come down" 178
"Listen to me!" 183
Tail-piece 187
Chapter heading 188
They stood together over the budding snowdrops 193
His whole air and attitude had expressed delight 198
"I am going to take the air this afternoon" 207
"I will go with you, Richard" 211
Tail-piece 214
Chapter heading 215
"Madam, I come not on courtesy" 220
"O mother, my sister Katherine!" 226
"Oh, my cheeny, my cheeny!" 231
Plain and dark were her garments 237
Tail-piece 240
Chapter heading 241
Katherine stood with her child in her arms 243
The garden next fell under Katherine's care 246
"Thou has a grandson of thy own name" 249
Plate old and new 252
"Make me not to remember the past" 258
With a great sob Bram laid his head against her breast 263
Chapter heading 266
She spread out all her finery 273
All kinds of frivolity and amusement 278
"Dick, I am angry at you" 282
She was softly singing to the drowsy child 285
Chapter heading 289
She was stretched upon a sofa 295
She stood in the gray light by the window 301
Chapter heading 303
She knelt speechless and motionless 307
Jane lifted her apron to her eyes 311
"O Richard, my lover, my husband!" 317Chapter heading 320
"One night in Rome, in a moment, the thing was altered," 323
"I must draw my sword again" 328
"We have closed his Majesty's custom-house forever" 333
"I am reading the Word" 339
He was standing on the step of his high counting-desk. 345
Chapter heading 348
Lysbet and Catherine were unpacking 350
He marshalled the six children in front of him 354
The City Hall 358
He swung a great axe 359
Lysbet's hands gave it to them 365
Tail-piece 371
THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON
I.
"Love, that old song, of which the world is never weary ."
It was one of those beautiful, lengthening days, when May was pressing back
with both hands the shades of the morning and the evening; May in New York
one hundred and twenty-one years ago, and yet the May of A.D. 1886,—the
same clear air and wind, the same rarefied freshness, full of faint, passing
aromas from the wet earth and the salt sea and the blossoming gardens. For on
the shore of the East River the gardens still sloped down, even to below PeckSlip; and behind old Trinity the apple-trees blossomed like bridal nosegays, the
pear-trees rose in immaculate pyramids, and here and there cows were coming
up heavily to the scattered houses; the lazy, intermitting tinkle of their bells
giving a pleasant notice of their approach to the waiting milking-women.
In the city the business of the day was over; but at the open doors of many of
the shops, little groups of apprentices in leather aprons were talking, and on the
broad steps of the City Hall a number of grave-looking men were slowly
separating after a very satisfactory civic session. They had been discussing the
marvellous increase of the export trade of New York; and some vision of their
city's future greatness may have appeared to them, for they held themselves
with the lofty and confident air of wealthy merchants and "members of his
Majesty's Council for the Province of New York."
They were all noticeable men, but Joris Van Heemskirk
specially so. His bulk was so great that it seemed as if
he must have been built up: it was too much to expect
that he had ever been a baby. He had a fair, ruddy face,
and large, firm eyes, and a mouth that was at once
strong and sweet. And he was also very handsomely
dressed. The long, stiff skirts of his dark-blue coat were
lined with satin, his breeches were black velvet, his
ruffles edged with Flemish lace, his shoes clasped with
silver buckles, his cocked hat made of the finest beaver.
With his head a little forward, and his right arm across
his back, he walked slowly up Wall Street into
Broadway, and then took a north-westerly direction
toward the river-bank. His home was on the outskirts of
the city, but not far away; and his face lightened as he
approached it. It was a handsome house, built of yellow
bricks, two stories high, with windows in the roof, and
gables sending up sharp points skyward. There were
weather-cocks on the gables, and little round holes below the weather-cocks,
and small iron cranes below the holes, and little windows below the cranes,
—all perfectly useless, but also perfectly picturesque and perfectly Dutch. The
rooms were large and airy, and the garden sloped down to the river-side. It had
paths bordered by clipped box, and shaded by holly and yew trees cut in
fantastic shapes.
In the spring this garden was a wonder of tulips and hyacinths and lilacs, of
sweet daffodils and white lilies. In the summer it was ruddy with roses, and
blazing with verbenas, and gay with the laburnum's gold cascade. Then the
musk carnations and the pale slashed pinks exhaled a fragrance that made the
heart dream idyls. In the autumn there was the warm, sweet smell of peaches
and pears and apples. There were morning-glories in riotous profusion, tall
hollyhocks, and wonderful dahlias. In winter it still had charms,—the white
snow, and the green box and cedar and holly, and the sharp descent of its
frozen paths to the frozen river. Councillor Van Heemskirk's father had built the
house and planted the garden, and he had the Dutch reverence for a good
ancestry. Often he sent his thoughts backward to remember how he walked by
his father's side, or leaned against his mother's chair, as they told him the tragic
tales of the old Barneveldt and the hapless De Witts; or how his young heart
glowed to their memories of the dear fatherland, and the proud march of the
Batavian republic.But this night the mournful glamour of the past caught a fresh glory from the
dawn of a grander day forespoken. "More than three hundred vessels may
leave the port of New York this same year," he thought. "It is the truth; every
man of standing says so. Good-evening, Mr. Justice. Good-evening,
neighbours;" and he stood a minute, with his hands on his garden-gate, to bow
to Justice Van Gaas