The Maid of Maiden Lane by Amelia E. Barr (adventure books to read TXT) 📖

leave everything which now interested him, and he could not live without interests; very well, then, he would be compelled to accept such as a new Fate thrown into his new life. She had a great faith in circumstances. She knew that in the long run every one wrote beneath that potent word, “Your obedient servant.” Circumstances would either positively deny all her son’s hopes, or they would so powerfully aid them that opposition would be useless; and she mentally bowed herself to an influence so powerful and perhaps so favourable.

“Joris, my dear one,” she said, as they rose from the breakfast table; “Joris, I think there is a letter from your father. To the city you must go as soon as you can, for I have had a restless night, full of feeling it has been.”

“You should not go to bed to feel, mother. Night is the time for sleep.”

“And for dreams, and for many good things to come, that come not in the day. Yes, indeed, the nighttime of the body is the daytime of the soul.”

Then Joris smiled and kissing her, said, “I am going at once. If there is a letter I will send a quick rider with it.”

“But come thyself.”

“That I cannot.” “But why, then?”

“To-morrow, I will tell you.”

“That is well. Into thy mother’s heart drop all thy joys and sorrows. Thine are mine.” And she kissed him, and he went away glad and hopeful and full of tender love for the mother who understood him so sympathetically. He stood up in his stirrups to wave her a last adieu, and then he said to himself, “How fortunate I am about women! Could I have a sweeter, lovelier mistress? No! Mother? No! Grandmother? No! Friend? No! Cornelia, mother, grandmother, Madame Jacobus, all of them just what I love and need, sweet souls between me and the angels.”

It happened—but doubtless happened because so ordered—that the very hour in which Joris left Hyde Manor, Peter Van Ariens received a letter that made him very anxious. He left his office and went to see his son. “Rem,” he said, “there is now an opportunity for thee. Here has come a letter from Boston, and some one must go there; and that too in a great hurry. The house of Blume and Otis is likely to fail, and in it we have some great interests. A lawyer we must have to look after them; go thyself, and it shall be well for both of us.”

“I am ready to go—that is, I can be ready in one or two days.”

“There are not one or two days to spare. Gerard will take care of thy work here. To-day is the best time of all.”

“I cannot go with a happy mind to-day. I will tell you, father. I think now my case with Cornelia will bear putting to the question. As you know, it has been step with step between Joris Hyde and myself in that affair, and if I go away now without securing the ground I have gained, what can hinder Hyde from taking advantage over me? He too must go soon, but he will try and secure his position before he leaves. To do the same thing is my only way. I wish, then, the time to give myself this security.”

“That is fair. A man is not a man till he has won a wife. Cornelia Moran is much to my mind. Tell her my home is thine, and she will be a mistress dearly loved and honoured. And if a thing is to be done, there is no time like the hour that has not struck. Go and see her now. She was in the garden gathering asters when I left home this morning.”

“I will write to her. I will tell her what is in my heart—though she knows it well—and ask her for her love and her hand. If she is kind to my offer she will tell me to come and see her to-night, then I can go to Boston with a free heart and look after your money and your business.”

“If things be this way, thou art reasonable. A good wife must not be lost for the peril of some gold sovereigns. At once write to the maid; such letters are best done at the first thought, some prudences or some fears may come with the second thoughts.”

“I have no fear but Joris Hyde. That Englishman I hate. His calm confidence, his smiling insolent air is intolerable.”

“It is the English way. But Cornelia is American—as thou art.”

“She thinks much of that, but yet—”

“Be not afraid. The brave either find, or make, a way to success. What is in a girl’s heart no man can tell, if she be cold and shy that should not cause thee to doubt. When water is ice, who would suspect what great heat is stored away in it? Write thy letter at once. Put thy heart into thy pen. Not always prudent is this way, but once in a man’s life it is wisdom.”

“My pen is too small for my heart.”

“My opinion is that thou hast wavered too long. It is a great foolishness to let the cherry knock against the lips too often or too long. A pretty pastime, perhaps, to will, and not will, to dare, and not dare; but at last the knock comes that drops the cherry—it may be into some other mouth.”

“I fear no one but that rascal, Joris Hyde.”

“A rascal he is not, because the same woman he loves as thyself. Such words weaken any cause. No wrong have I seen or known of Lieutenant Hyde.”

“I will call him a rascal, and I will give him no other title, though his father leave him an earl.”

“Now, then, I shall go. I like not ill words. Write thy letter, but put out of thy mind all bad thoughts first. A love letter from a bitter heart is not lucky. And of all thy wit thou wilt have great need if to a woman thou write.”

“Oh, they are intolerable, aching joys! A man who dares to love a woman, or dares to believe in her, dares to be mad.”

“Come, come! No evil must thou speak of good women, I swear that I was never out of it yet, when I judged men as they judged women. The art of loving a woman is the art of trusting her—yes, though the heavens fall. Now, then, haste with thy letter. Thou may have ‘Yes’ to it ere thou sleep to-night.”

“And I may have ‘No.’”

“To be sure, if thou think ‘no.’ But, even so, if thou lose the wedding ring, the hand is still left; another ring may be found.”

“‘No,’ would be a deathblow to me.”

“It will not. While a man has meat and drink love will not starve him; with world’s business and world’s pleasure an unkind love he makes shift to forget. Bring to me word of thy good fortune this night, and in the morning there is the Boston business. Longer it can hardly wait.”

But the letter to Cornelia which Hyde found to slip off