“Well, then, what is it?”
“I think Sappha and Leonard Murray are not only in love with each other--I think, also, they are engaged.”
“You talk more nonsense than usual. No one has said a word of that kind to me. Of this family, I am the head, there could be no engagement without my approval. Your uncle and aunt would have told me at once--Sappha also. About engagements, what do you know? Lovers you have, but making love and making a life-long engagement are different things. Sappha is not engaged.”
“Then ’tis a thousand pities, for I am sure she is mortally in love with Leonard.”
“And if he was mortally in love with Sappha, what wonder? More beautiful every day, grows Sapphira Bloommaert.”
“That is because she is in love. ‘Love makes the lover fair,’” and she began to hum the song.
“I have never seen love any change make in you. A new dress might, but--”
“I have never been in love. A new dress is the height of my affection. However, I go back to what I said--I am sure Sappha and Leonard are engaged.”
“Was some one telling you this story?”
“No. I told the story to myself.”
“How did you make it up?”
“I kept my eyes open.”
“Well, what then?”
“I saw that they had that ‘air’ about their slightest intercourse that mere experimental lovers never dare. I mean that sure look that married people have. Watch them and you will see it.”
“Watch, I shall not. See, I shall not. As soon as there is any purpose of marriage for Sapphira Bloommaert, I shall be told of it--told immediately. If I was not, I should never forgive the slight,--never! And your uncle and aunt know it. Can you find nothing pleasanter about the dinner to talk of? It was a dinner to gladden Dutch hearts. I helped your aunt arrange the courses, and I gave her many of my choice receipts for the dishes. No one in New York has such fine Hollandish receipts as I have, except, perhaps, old Peter Bogart, the biscuit maker.”
“I know, grandmother, I never pass his shop at Broadway and Cortlandt Street without going in for some doughnuts. No one can make such good ones; and how far back he looks in his smallclothes and long stockings, his big hat, and knee buckles, and shoe buckles, and sleeve buckles, his powdered hair and his long cue.”
“Yes, Peter Bogart and Mr. and Mrs. Skaats are among the few Dutch who have never changed with changing customs. While moving with the city and the times they have retained their picturesque dress and household life. And in all New York no one is more respected; no one more interesting and lovable than Mr. and Mrs. Skaats.”
“I never saw them!”
“I am sure you have not.”
“Well, then, who are they?”
“Mr. Skaats is custodian of the City Hall, and this delightful old couple often entertain the judges, lawyers, and the councilmen at their dinner table; on which is always found the Hollandish dishes we are so rapidly forgetting. Your uncle occasionally dines with them, and would do so more frequently if his own home was not so convenient. You must ask him to take you to see these dear old Dutch people; or I dare say Sappha knows them. Soon they will only be a pleasant memory.”
“I do not need to go and see the Skaats for a pleasant Dutch memory. There is no finer Dutchwoman in the world than my grandmother, Madame Jonaca Bloommaert.”
Madame was gratified at this compliment, and, perhaps, in order to return the pleasure, or else for the sake of changing the subject, she said: “Mr. St. Ange will be here in the morning--but I do not think it is necessary to warm the best parlour.”
“No, no, grandmother. Our sitting-room is far more distinguished. The best parlour is like a great many parlours; our sitting-room has a character--a most respectable one. I could see that he was impressed by it. I dare say he will soon know Sappha, and of course he will fall in love with her, and then there will be some interest in watching how Leonard Murray will like that.”
“Well, then, keep yourself clear; see, and hear, and say nothing; that is wise.”
“But I like to meddle--a little bit. I wonder if Leonard and Sappha are really engaged! Leonard might have come in and sat an hour with us; I expected so much courtesy from him. But no! though I told him we were so lonely in the evenings, he never offered to spend a little time with us. I dare say he returned at once to the Bowling Green. I saw him say a word or two to Sappha as he left, and she smiled and nodded, and I am very sure he was asking her permission to return.”
“Such nonsense! He would have asked your aunt that question.”
“Oh, the question is nothing! any question meant the same thing. I have no doubt at all, Leonard is at this moment with Sappha. They will be pretending to help aunt Carlita, but then helping her will mean pleasing themselves.”
But for once Annette’s sensibility, though so selfishly acute, was not correct. Leonard did not return to the Bowling Green, and Sappha was disappointed and hurt by his failure to do so. For an hour she sat with her mother before the fire, expecting every moment to hear his footsteps. And this expectation was so intense that she was frequently certain of their approach--his light rapid tread, his way of mounting the steps two at a time--both these sounds were repeated again and again upon her sensitive ear drum, and yet Leonard came not. Alas, what heart-watcher has not been tormented by these spectral promises? for the ears have their phantoms as well as the eyes. At last she reluctantly gave up hope, and as she lit her night candle she said in a tone of affected cheerfulness:
“I suppose Leonard would stay an hour or two with grandmother and Annette.”
“Why should you suppose such a thing? I am sure he never thought of doing so. I dare say he went with Peter to the theatre.”
“Grandmother had a visitor to-day--a grandson of Mrs. Saint-Ange.”
“She told me so.”
“He is very handsome, Annette says.”
“Well, then, he will, perhaps, find work for idle hearts to do. Your grandmother declares Annette shall marry a Dutchman. But when I was a girl French nobles fleeing from Robespierre elbowed one another on Broadway, and they carried off most of the rich and pretty Dutch maidens. A Frenchman is a great temptation; your grandmother will have to guard her determination, or she may be disappointed.”
“Good-night, dear mother. I will help you in the morning to put everything straight.”
“Good-night, and good angels give you good dreams, dear one.”
And as Sappha put down her candle in the dim, lonely room, and hastened her disrobing because of the cold, she could not help wondering where all the enthusiasms of the early evening were gone to--the light, the warmth, the good cheer, the good fellowship, the joy of song, the thrill of love. They had been so vividly present two hours ago, and now they were so vividly absent that the tears came unbidden to her eyes, and she had an overpowering sense of discouragement and defeat. And the sting of this inward depression was Leonard Murray. “He might have come back for an hour! He might have come! and he did not.” Murmuring this sorrowful complaint she went into the land of sleep. And in that world of the soul she met her angel, and was so counselled and strengthened that she awoke with a light heart and with song upon her lips--all her fret and lurking jealousy turned into a frank confidence; all her doubts changed into the happiest hopes. And as every one has, more or less, frequently experienced this marvellous communion, this falling on sleep angry, disappointed, dismayed, and awakening soothed, satisfied, encouraged, there is no need to speculate concerning such a spiritual transformation. Those who have the key to it require no tutor; those who have not the key could not be made to understand.
Sappha simply and cheerfully accepted the change; she was even able to see where she had been unreasonable in her expectations; her whole mood was softened and more generous. She dressed herself and went down, rosy with the cold, and her father found her standing before the blazing fire warming her feet and hands. The windows were white with frost, and a bugle sounded piercingly sweet in the cold, clear air; but the big room was full of comfort and of the promise of a good plentiful meal.
They began to talk at once about the dinner party of the previous evening, and Sappha said: “The best part of the whole affair was grandmother. I think, father, that she looked about twenty years old, when she was speaking. How radiant was her face! How sweet her voice! How proud I am to be her granddaughter!”
And this acknowledgment so pleased the judge that he answered: “I shall never forget her countenance as she lifted her eyes to the flags above the mantlepiece; her glance took in both, with equal affection; the red, white, and blue of the Netherlands, and the Star Spangled Banner which hung by its side. And let me tell you, Sappha, I liked our Christopher’s song, and also I liked the music Mr. Murray wrote for it. One was as good as the other. Here comes mother, and the coffee, and how delicious the meat and bread smell! Mother is always the bringer of good things. Sit here, Sappha, it is warmer than your own place.”