“That man again!” he muttered, and he could not dismiss “that man” from his memory during the rest of the walk. He passed his mother’s house but did not enter it, for it was nearing his dinner hour, and he hoped in the society of his wife and daughter to find the restful equipoise he had lost during the morning’s events. As he mounted the steps Sapphira threw open the door. Her face was radiant. She was the incarnation of pleasure.
“Father,” she cried, “I am so glad that you have come home early. I have such good news. Mother and I have had such a great honour; you can’t tell how happy we both feel.”
Her visible joy was infectious, and Bloommaert flung his annoyance out of memory. “Come, now,” he said cheerfully, “let us hear the good news. Who brought it to you?”
“Well, you would never guess, dear father, and I am going to let mother tell you.”
They entered the dining room as she spoke, and its cool sweetness was like a breath of heaven. Mrs. Bloommaert rose with a smile.
“Gerardus, my dear!” she exclaimed, “you are earlier than I hoped. That is good. Now we shall have dinner.”
“But Carlita, first the good news that Sapphira can hardly keep from me.”
“Has she not told you?”
“No. She says you are to tell me.”
“Well, then, it is very pleasant to her, and to me. Leonard Murray came here this morning just after you left. He had hoped to find you still at home--and he wanted us to select the uniform for his company. They are to fight under our colours, you see! He had many patterns of cloth with him, and we chose dark blue for the coats, and orange for the vest, and the head dress is to be dark blue cap with a rosette and streamers of red, white, and blue! The tricolour, my dear one--that was for my nation, and the blue and orange, that was for yours. Leonard was delighted. He is going to pay for the uniforms and support the company until the city puts it in active service. Then it will fight under our colours. Was it not kind and respectful of Leonard?”
“It was a piece of damned impertinence. I never heard of such impudence!”
“Father!”
“Gerardus, I am astonished at you!”
“The insolent puppy! What right had he? How dare he?”
“Mr. Justice, he only did what every young man of standing has done: the Clarksons, the Fairlies, the Westervelts, the Moores--every family of consideration has given its colours to some company or other. It is an honour, Mr. Justice, a great honour, and we are very proud of it. I told Leonard so.”
“Leonard, indeed! It seems that you are already very familiar.”
“Already! It is a long already. I have known the boy from the hour of his birth. His mother was my friend when we were both little girls. I was with his mother when she died. I promised her to be kind to Leonard whenever I had opportunity--the opportunity came this morning--I thought you would be pleased--and proud--but then, one never knows a man’s real feelings--never! After last Saturday, too--it is inconceivable.” Mrs. Bloommaert rose, and as her daughter followed her the judge was left alone with whatever answer he intended to make.
Generally, when an antagonist withdraws, the party left in possession of the ground feels a sense of victory. He tosses his head a little and triumphs in the fashion that best suits him. But Judge Bloommaert, standing with his doubled-up hand on his dining table, had a sinking sense of defeat. His large, dignified personality succumbed as the two slender slips of womanhood passed him--Carlita’s haughty little head expressing a disdainful disapproval, and Sapphira giving him a look from eyes full of reproachful astonishment.
A natural instinct led him to sit down in order to consider his ways. “What the deuce!” he exclaimed. “Confound the fellow! What does it all mean?” Then his logical mind began to reflect, to deliberate, to weigh his own case as relentlessly as if it was the case of a stranger. The result was a decision in favour of his wife’s and his daughter’s position. From their standpoint he had been unreasonable and inconsistent. And he could put in no demurrer; for the only objection he was able to make lay in that covert dislike to the young man for which he was unable to give any reason that would not be more humiliating than simple submission.
He had reached this point when a negro slave, dressed from head to foot in spotless white linen, entered the room. He was carrying a platter containing a sirloin of roast beef, and the appetising odour, blended with the fragrance of the fresh peas,--boiled with the sprig of mint they call for,--stimulated the judge to the necessary action. He rose promptly and went to the sitting room in the rear. At the door he heard Sapphira and her mother talking, but they were instantly silent as he entered. That was a symptom he did not regard. He knew the tactics that were always successful, and with a smile and a courtly bow he offered his arm to Mrs. Bloommaert. The courtesy was made invincible by the glance that accompanied it--a glance that was explanation, apology, and admiration sent swiftly and indisputably to her heart. Words would have been halting and impotent in comparison, and they were ignored. The only ones spoken referred to the waiting meal. “Dinner is served, Carlita,” and Carlita, with an answering glance of pardon and affection, proudly took the arm offered her. Ere they reached the door Sapphira was remembered, and her father stretched backward his hand for her clasp. Thus they entered the dining room together, and almost at the same moment they were joined by Christopher.
He was hot and sunburned but full of quiet satisfaction. He laid his arm across his mother’s neck as he passed her, and taking a seat next to his sister clasped her little hand lovingly under the table.
With beaming eyes she acknowledged this token of his affection, and then touching a piece of pale blue ribbon tied through a buttonhole of his jacket, she asked:
“Pray, Chris, who is now your patron saint? Last year it was good St. Nicholas, and orange was all your cry. Why have you forsaken your old patron and changed your colours?”
Chris laughed a little. “I was caught unaware, Sapphira,” he answered. “As I came up Cedar Street I saw Mary Selwyn cutting roses in Mr. Webster’s garden. She had a rose at her throat, and a rose in her hair, and a basket of roses in her hand, and she was as sweet and as pretty as any rose that ever bloomed in all New York. And she said ‘Good-morning, Captain Bloommaert; I hear you are soon for the ocean, and the enemy, and God be with you!’ And I said, ‘So soon now, Miss Selwyn, that this must be our good-bye, I think.’ Then she lifted her scissors and cut from the ribbon round her neck the piece I am wearing. ‘It is the full half,’ she said, ‘and I will keep the other half till you come home again happy and glorious.’”
“Well, then, it is your luck ribbon, Chris, and you must not change it,” said Sapphira.
“In a very few minutes I was under great temptation to do so, Sapphira. I thought I would call on grandmother, but as I got near to her house I saw Walter Havens just leaving the gate. He was walking very proudly, and a flutter of red ribbon was on his head, and the next step showed me a flutter of white skirts behind the vines on the veranda. So I knew cousin Annette had been setting him up till he felt as if he had twenty hearts instead of only one.”
“Did you speak to Annette after that observation?” asked his father.
“Why yes, sir. She saw me at once, and came running to open the gate. She had all her airs and graces about her and looked as radiant as the red ribbons she wore. She saw my blue ribbon immediately, and said scornfully, ‘Pray now, whose favour is that affair tied in your buttonhole? It is a poor thing, Chris! Shall I not give you an inch or two of my solitaire?’ and she lifted the housewife at her belt, and would have taken out her scissors. But I said, ‘No, no, Miss de Vries, I’m not taking shares with Walter Havens. I’ll just hold on to my ‘poor thing.’ I wonder how many rose ribbons you have given away this morning?”
“Did she tell you how many, Chris?” asked Mrs. Bloommaert.
“She looked as if she might have given a hundred, but she kept her secret--you may trust Annette to keep anything that belongs to her--even her secrets; and most women give them away. Annette de Vries knows better.”
“What did grandmother say?” asked Sapphira.
“I did not see her. She was in her room, asleep, Annette said. They are coming here this evening--with the Clarks, and perhaps others. You won’t mind, mother, will you?”
“Indeed I shall be glad, if you wish it, Chris.” For her heart had comprehended that his “good-bye” to Miss Selwyn meant that he was ready for sea. And it was Christopher’s habit to slip away on some night, or early morning tide, when there was no one around to embarrass his orders. For he was not a man that either liked or needed the approbation and sympathies of others; as a rule, Christopher Bloommaert’s approval was sufficient for him.
He was evidently full of business, and went away as soon as he had finished his dinner. The judge went with him, and Mrs. Bloommaert and her daughter, left alone, began instantly to discuss the subject of Christopher’s departure.