Chapter 16

"How glorious stand the valiant, sword in hand,
In front of battle for their native land!"



It was into this thundery atmosphere of coming conflict, of hopes and
doubts, of sundering ties and fearful looking forward, that Richard and
Katherine Hyde came, from the idyllic peace and beauty of their Norfolk
house. But there was something in it that fitted Hyde's real
disposition. He was a natural soldier, and he had arrived at the period
of life when the mere show and pomp of the profession had lost all
satisfying charm. He had found a quarrel worthy of his sword, one that
had not only his deliberate approval, but his passionate sympathy. In
fact, his first blow for American independence had been struck in the
duel with Lord Paget; for that quarrel, though nominally concerning Lady
Suffolk, was grounded upon a dislike engendered by their antagonism
regarding the government of the Colonies.

It was an exquisite April morning when they sailed up New York bay once
more. Joris had been watching for the "Western Light;" and when she came
to anchor at Murray's Wharf, his was the foremost figure on it. He had
grown a little stouter, but was still a splendid-looking man; he had
grown a little older, but his tenderness for his daughter was still
young and fresh and strong as ever. He took her in his arms, murmuring,
"_Mijn Katrijntje, mijn Katrijntje! Ach, mijn kind, mijn kind!_"

Hyde had felt that there might be some embarrassment in his own case,
perhaps some explanation or acknowledgment to make; but Joris waved
aside any speech like it. He gave Hyde both hands; he called him "_mijn
zoon_;" he stooped, and put the little lad's arms around his neck. In
many a kind and delicate way he made them feel that all of the past was
forgotten but its sweetness.

And surely that hour Lysbet had the reward of her faithful affection.
She had always admired Hyde; and she was proud and happy to have him in
her home, and to have him call her mother. The little Joris took
possession of her heart in a moment. Her Katherine was again at her
side. She had felt the clasp of her hands; she had heard her whisper
"_mijn moeder_" upon her lips.

They landed upon a Saturday, upon one of those delightsome days that
April frequently gives to New York. There was a fresh wind, full of the
smell of the earth and the sea; an intensely blue sky, with flying
battalions of white fleecy clouds across it; a glorious sunshine above
everything. And people live, and live happily, even in the shadow of
war. The stores were full of buyers and sellers. The doors and windows
of the houses were open to the spring freshness. Lysbet had heard of
their arrival, and was