The Maid of Maiden Lane

  Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team.

  THE MAID OF MAIDEN LANE A Sequel to "The Bow of Orange Ribbon." A LoveStory

  BY AMELIA E. BARR Author of "The Bow of Orange Ribbon," "FriendOlivia," etc.

  1900

  CONTENTS

  I. THE HOME OF CORNELIA MORANII. THIS IS THE WAY OF LOVEIII. HYDE AND ARENTAIV. THROWING THINGS INTO CONFUSIONV. TURNING OVER A NEW LEAFVI. AUNT ANGELICAVII. ARENTA'S MARRIAGEVIII. TWO PROPOSALSIX. MISDIRECTED LETTERSX. LIFE TIED IN A KNOTXI. WE HAVE DONE WITH TEARS AND TREASONSXII. A HEART THAT WAITSXIII. THE NEW DAYS COMEXIV. HUSH! LOVE IS HERE!

  CHAPTER I

  THE HOME OF CORNELIA MORAN

  Never, in all its history, was the proud and opulent city of New Yorkmore glad and gay than in the bright spring days ofSeventeen-Hundred-and-Ninety-One. It had put out of sight every traceof British rule and occupancy, all its homes had been restored andre-furnished, and its sacred places re-consecrated and adorned. Like ayoung giant ready to run a race, it stood on tiptoe, eager foradventure and discovery--sending ships to the ends of the world, andround the world, on messages of commerce and friendship, andencouraging with applause and rewards that wonderful spirit ofscientific invention, which was the Epic of the youthful nation. Theskies of Italy were not bluer than the skies above it; the sunshine ofArcadia not brighter or more genial. It was a city of beautiful, andeven splendid, homes; and all the length and breadth of its streetswere shaded by trees, in whose green shadows dwelt and walked some ofthe greatest men of the century.

  These gracious days of Seventeen-Hundred-and-Ninety-One were also theearly days of the French Revolution, and fugitives from the Frenchcourt--princes and nobles, statesmen and generals, sufficient for a newIliad, loitered about the pleasant places of Broadway and Wall Street,Broad Street, and Maiden Lane. They were received with courtesy, andeven with hospitality, although America at that date almost universallysympathized with the French Republicans, whom they believed to be thepioneers of political freedom on the aged side of the Atlantic. Themerchants on Exchange, the Legislators in their Council Chambers, theworking men on the wharves and streets, the loveliest women in theirhomes, and walks, and drives, alike wore the red cockade. TheMarseillaise was sung with The Star Spangled Banner; and the notoriousCarmagnole could be heard every hour of the day--on stated days,officially, at the Belvedere Club. Love for France, hatred for England,was the spirit of the age; it effected the trend of commerce, itdominated politics, it was the keynote of conversation wherever men andwomen congregated.

  Yet the most pronounced public feeling always carries with it a note ofdissent, and it was just at this day that dissenting opinion began tomake itself heard. The horrors of Avignon, and of Paris, the brutalitywith which the royal family had been treated, and the abolition of allreligious ties and duties, had many and bitter opponents. The clergygenerally declared that "men had better be without liberty, thanwithout God," and a prominent judge had ventured to say publicly that"Revolution was a dangerous chief justice."

  In these days of wonderful hopes and fears there was, in Maiden Lane, avery handsome residence--an old house even in the days of Washington,for Peter Van Clyffe had built it early in the century as a bridalpresent to his daughter when she married Philip Moran, a lawyer whogrew to eminence among colonial judges. The great linden trees whichshaded the garden had been planted by Van Clyffe; so also had the highhedges of cut boxwood, and the wonderful sweet briar, which covered theporch and framed all the windows filling the open rooms in summer timewith the airs of Paradise. On all these lovely things the old Dutchmanhad stamped his memory, so that, even to the third generation, he wasremembered with an affection, that every springtime renewed.

  One afternoon in April, 1791, two men were standing talking opposite tothe entrance gates of this pleasant place. They were Captain Joris VanHeemskirk, a member of the Congress then sitting in Federal Hall, BroadStreet, and Jacobus Van Ariens, a wealthy citizen, and a deacon in theDutch Church. Van Heemskirk had helped to free his own country and wasnow eager to force the centuries and abolish all monarchies.Consequently, he believed in France; the tragedies she had beenenacting in the holy name of Liberty, though they had saddened, had,hitherto, not discouraged him. He only pitied the more men who weretrying to work out their social salvation, without faith in either Godor man. But the news received that morning had almost killed his hopesfor the spread of republican ideas in Europe.

  "Van Ariens," he said warmly, "this treatment of King Louis and hisfamily is hardly to be believed. It is too much, and too far. If KingGeorge had been our prisoner we should have behaved towards him withhumanity. After this, no one can foresee what may happen in France."

  "That is the truth, my friend," answered Van Ariens. "The good Dominethinks that any one who can do so might also understand theRevelations. The French have gone mad. They are tigers, sir, and I carenot whether tigers walk on four feet or on two. WE won our freedomwithout massacres."

  "WE had Washington and Franklin, and other good and wise leaders whofeared God and loved men."

  "So I said to the Count de Moustier but one hour ago. But I did notspeak to him of the Almighty, because he is an atheist. Yet if we wereprudent and merciful it was because we are religious. When men areirreligious, the Lord forsakes them; and if bloodshed and bankruptcyfollow it is not to be wondered at."

  "That is true, Van Ariens; and it is also the policy of England to letFrance destroy herself." "Well, then, if France likes the policy ofEngland, it is her own affair. But I am angry at France; she hasstabbed Liberty in Europe for one thousand years. A French Republic!Bah! France is yet fit for nothing but a despotism. I wish the Assemblyhad more control--"

  "The Assembly!" cried Van Heemskirk scornfully. "I wish that Catherineof Russia were now Queen of France in the place of that poor MarieAntoinette. Catherine would make Frenchmen write a different page inhistory. As to Paris, I think, then, the devil never sowed a millioncrimes in more fruitful ground."

  "Look now, Captain, I am but a tanner and currier, as you know, but Ihave had experiences; and I do not believe in the future of a peoplewho are without a God and without a religion."

  "Well, so it is, Van Ariens. I will now be silent, and wait for theecho; but I fear that God has not yet said 'Let there be peace.' I sawyou last night at Mr. Hamilton's with your son and daughter. You made anoble entrance."

  "Well, then, the truth is the truth. My Arenta is worth looking at; andas for Rem, he was not made in a day. There are generations of Zealandsailors behind him; and, to be sure, you may see the ocean in his greyeyes and fresh open face. God is good, who gives us boys and girls tosit so near our hearts."

  "And such a fair, free city for a home!" said Van Heemskirk as helooked up and down the sunshiny street. "New York is not perfect, but welove her. Right or wrong, we love her; just as we love our mother, andour little children."

  "That, also, is what the Domine says," answered Van Ariens; "and yet,he likes not that New York favours the French so much. When Liberty hasno God, and no Sabbath day, and no heaven, and no hell, the Domine isnot in favour of Liberty. He is uneasy for the country, and for hischurch; and if he could take his whole flock to heaven at once, thatwould please him most of all."

  "He is a good man. With you, last night, was a little maid--a greatbeauty I thought her--but I knew her not. Is she then a stranger?"

  "A stranger! Come, come! The little one is a very child of New York.She is the daughter of Dr. Moran--Dr. John, as we all call him."

  "Well, look now, I thought in her face there was something that went tomy heart and memory."

  "And, as you know, that is his house across the street from us, and it
was his father's house, and his grandfather's house; and before that,the Morans lived in Winckle Street; and before that, in the Lady'sValley; so, then, when Van Clyffe built this house for them, they onlycame back to their first home. Yes, it is so. The Morans have seen thebirth of this city. Who, then, can be less of a stranger in it than thelittle beauty, Cornelia?"

  "As you say, Van Ariens."

  "And yet, in one way, she is a stranger. Such a little one she was,when the coming of the English sent the family apart and away. To thearmy went the Doctor, and there he stayed, till the war was over. Mrs.Moran took her child, and went to her father's home in Philadelphia.When those redcoats went away forever from New York, the Morans cameback here, but the little girl they left in the school at Bethlehem,where those good Moravian Sisters have made her so sweet as themselves;so pure! so honest-hearted! so clever! It was only last month she cameback to New York, and few people have seen her; and yet this is thetruth--she is the sweetest maid in Maiden Lane; though up this side,and down that side, are some beauties--the daughters of PeterSylvester; and of Jacob Beckley; and of Claes Vandolsom. Oh, yes! andmany others. I speak not of my Arenta. But look now! It is the littlemaid herself, that is coming down the street."

  "And it is my grandson who is at her side. The rascal! He ought now tobe reading his law books in Mr. Hamilton's office. But what will you?The race of young men with old heads on their shoulders is not yetborn--a God's mercy it is not!"

  "We also have been young, Van Heemskirk."

  "I forget not, my friend. My Joris sees not me, and I will not seehim." Then the two old men were silent, but their eyes were fixed onthe youth and maiden, who were slowly advancing towards them; the sun'swestering rays making a kind of glory for them to walk in.

  She might have stepped out of the folded leaves of a rosebud, so lovelywas her face, framed in its dark curls, and shaded by a gypsy bonnet ofstraw tied under her chin with primrose-coloured ribbons. Her dress wasof some soft, green material; and she carried in her hand a bunch ofdaffodils. She was small, but exquisitely formed, and she walked withfearlessness and distinction Yet there was around her an angelicgravity, and that indefinable air of solitude, which she had broughtfrom innocent studies and long seclusion from the tumult and follies oflife.

  Of all this charming womanhood the young man at her side was profoundlyconscious. He was the gallant gentleman of his day, hardly touching thetips of her fingers, but quite ready to fall on his knees before her. Atall, sunbrowned, military-looking young man, as handsome as a Greekgod, with eyes of heroic form; lustrous, and richly fringed; and abeautiful mouth, at once sensitive and seductive. He was also veryfinely dressed, in the best and highest mode; and he wore his sword asif it were a part of himself. It was no more in his way than if it werehis right arm. Indeed, all his movements were full of confidence andease; and yet it was the vivacity, vitality, and ready response of hisface that was most attractive.

  His wonderful eyes were bent upon the maid at his side; he saw no otherearthly thing. With a respectful eagerness, full of admiration, hetalked to her; and she answered his words--whatever they were--with asmile that might have moved mountains. They passed the two old menwithout any consciousness of their presence, and Van Heemskirk smiled,and then sighed, and then said softly--

  "So much youth, and beauty, and happiness! It is a benediction to haveseen it! I shall not reprove Joris at this time. But now I must go backto Federal Hall; the question of the Capital makes me very anxious.Every man of standing must feel so."

  "And I must go to my tan pits, for it is the eye of the master thatmakes the good servant. You will vote for New York, VanHeemskirk?--that is a question I need not to ask?"

  "Where else should the capital of our nation be? I think thatPhiladelphia has great presumptions to propose herself against NewYork:--this beautiful city between the two rivers, with the AtlanticOcean at her feet!"

  "You say what is true, Van Heemskirk. God has made New York thecapital, and the capital she will be; and no man can prevent it. It wasonly yesterday that Senator Greyson from Virginia told me that theSouthern States are against Philadelphia. She is very troublesome tothe Southern States, day by day dogging them with her schemes foremancipation. It is the way to make us unfriends."

  "I think this, Van Ariens: Philadelphia may win the vote at this time;she has the numbers, and she has 'persuasions'; but look you! NEW YORKHAS THE SHIPS AND THE COMMERCE, AND THE SEA WILL CROWN HER! 'Theharvest of the rivers is her revenue; and she is the mart of nations.'That is what Domine Kunz said in the House this morning, and you mayfind the words in the prophecy of Isaiah, the twenty-third chapter."

  During this conversation they had forgotten all else, and when theireyes turned to the Moran house the vision of youth and beauty haddissolved. Van Heemskirk's grandson, Lieutenant Hyde, was hasteningtowards Broadway; and the lovely Cornelia Moran was sauntering up thegarden of her home, stooping occasionally to examine the pearl-powderedauriculas or to twine around its support some vine, straggling out ofits proper place.

  Then Van Ariens hurried down to his tanning pits in the swamp; and VanHeemskirk went thoughtfully to Broad Street; walking slowly, with hisleft arm laid across his back, and his broad, calm countenance beamingwith that triumph which he foresaw for the city he loved. When hereached Federal Hall, he stood a minute in the doorway; and withinspired eyes looked at the splendid, moving picture; then he walkedproudly toward the Hall of Representatives, saying to himself, withsilent exultation as he went:

  "The Seat of Government! Let who will, have it; New York is theCrowning City. Her merchants shall be princes, her traffickers thehonourable of the earth; the harvest of her rivers shall be her royalrevenue, and the marts of all nations shall be in her streets."