The Bow of Orange Ribbon | Page 7

with the governing race, to
sit at their banquets, and even to worship in their church; but Joris, in
his heart, looked upon such "indifferents" as renegades to their God and
their fatherland. He was a Dutchman, soul and body; and no English
duke was prouder of his line, or his royal quarterings, than was Joris
Van Heemskirk of the race of sailors and patriots from whom he had
sprung.
Through his father, he clasped hands with men who had swept the
narrow seas with De Ruyter, and sailed into Arctic darkness and
icefields with Van Heemskirk. Farther back, among that mysterious,
legendary army of patriots called "The Beggars of the Sea," he could
proudly name his fore-goers,--rough, austere men, covered with scars,
who followed Willemsen to the succour of Leyden. The likeness of one
of them, Adrian Van Heemskirk, was in his best bedroom,--the big,
square form wrapped in a pea-jacket; a crescent in his hat, with the
device, "_Rather Turk than Papist_;" and upon his breast one of those

medals, still hoarded in the Low Countries, which bore the significant
words, "In defiance of the Mass."
He knew all the stories of these men,--how, fortified by their natural
bravery, and by their Calvinistic acquiescence in the purposes of
Providence, they put out to sea in any weather, braved any danger,
fought their enemies wherever they found them, worked like beavers
behind their dams, and yet defiantly flung open their sluice-gates, and
let in the ocean, to drown out their enemies.
Through his mother, a beautiful Zealand woman, he was related to the
Evertsens, the victorious admirals of Zealand, and also to the great
mercantile family of Doversteghe; and he thought the enterprise of the
one as honourable as the valour of the other. Beside the sailor pictures
of Cornelius and Jan Evertsen, and the famous "Keesje the Devil," he
hung sundry likenesses of men with grave, calm faces, proud and lofty
of aspect, dressed in rich black velvet and large wide
collars,--merchants who were every inch princes of commerce and
industry.
These lines of thought, almost tedious to indicate, flashed hotly and
vividly through his mind. The likes and dislikes, the faiths and
aspirations, of past centuries, coloured the present moments, as light
flung through richly stained glass has its white radiance tinged by it.
The feeling of race--that strong and mysterious tie which no time nor
circumstances can eradicate--was so living a motive in Joris Van
Heemskirk's heart, that he had been quite conscious of its appeal when
Semple spoke of a marriage between Katherine and his own son. And
Semple had understood this, when he so cunningly insinuated a
common stock and a common form of faith. For he had felt,
instinctively, that even the long tie of friendship between them was
hardly sufficient to bridge over the gulf of different nationalities.
Then, Katherine was Van Heemskirk's darling, the very apple of his
eye. He felt angry that already there should be plans laid to separate her
in any way from him. His eldest daughters, Cornelia and Anna, had
married men of substance in Esopus and Albany: he knew they had
done well for themselves, and had become contented in that knowledge;

but he also felt that they were far away from his love and home. Joanna
was already betrothed to Capt. Batavius de Vries; Bram would
doubtless find himself a wife very soon; for a little while, he had
certainly hoped to keep Katherine by his own side. Semple, in speaking
of her as already marriageable, had given him a shock. It seemed such a
few years since he had walked her to sleep at nights, cradled in his
strong arms, close to his great, loving heart; such a little while ago
when she toddled about the garden at his side, her plump white hands
holding his big forefinger; only yesterday that she had been going to
the school, with her spelling-book and Heidelberg in her hand. When
Lysbet had spoken to him of the English lady staying with Madam
Semple, who was teaching Katherine the new crewel-stitch, it had
appeared to him quite proper that such a child should be busy learning
something in the way of needlework. "Needlework" had been given as
the reason of those visits, which he now remembered had been very
frequent; and he was so absolutely truthful, that he never imagined the
word to be in any measure a false definition.
[Illustration: With her spelling-book and Heidelberg]
Therefore, Elder Semple's implication had stunned him like a buffet. In
his own room, he sat down on a big oak chest; and, as he thought, his
wrath slowly gathered. Semple knew that gay young English officers
were coming and going about his house, and he had not told him until
he feared they