The Bow of Orange Ribbon: A Romance of New York

by Amelia E. Barr

Always pretty and sweet as a flower, always beautifully dressed, she yet directed, personally, her little force of servants, until room after room became a thing of beauty. It was her employment during those days on which Hyde was fishing or shooting; and it was not until the whole house was in exquisite condition that Katherine took him through his renovated dwelling. He was delighted, and not too selfish and indifferent to express his wonder and pleasure.

"Faith, Kate," he said, "you have made me a home out of an old lumber-house! I thought of taking you to London with me; but, upon my word, we had better stay at Hyde and beautify the place. I can run down whenever it is possible to get a few days off."

This idea gained gradually on both, and articles of luxury and adornment were occasionally added to the better rooms. The garden next fell under Katharine's care. "In sweet neglect," it no longer flaunted its beauties. Roses and stocks and tiger-lilies learned what boundaries of box meant; and if flowers have any sense of territorial rights, Katherine's must have found they were respected. Encroaching vines were securely confined within their proper limits, and grass that wandered into the gravel paths sought for itself a merciless destruction.

All such reforms, if they are not offensive, are stimulating and progressive. The stables, kennels, and park, as well as the land belonging to the manor, became of sudden interest to Hyde. He surprised his lawyer by asking after it, and by giving orders that in future the hay cut in the meadows should be cut for the Hyde stables. Every small wrong which he investigated and redressed increased his sense of responsibility; and the birth of his son made him begin to plan for the future in a way which brought not only great pleasure to Katherine, but also a comfortable self-satisfaction to his own heart.

Yet, even with all these favourable conditions, Katherine would not have been happy had the estrangement between herself and her parents continued a bitter or a silent one. She did not suppose they would answer the letter she had sent by the fisherman Hudde; she was prepared to ask, and to wait, for pardon and for a re-gift of that precious love which she had apparently slighted for a newer and as yet untested one. So, immediately after her arrival at Jamaica, Katherine wrote to her mother; and, without waiting for replies, she continued her letters regularly from Hyde. They were in a spirit of the sweetest and frankest confidence. She made her familiar with all her household plans and wifely cares; as room by room in the old manor was finished, she described it. She asked her advice with all the faith of a child and the love of a daughter; and she sent through her those sweet messages of affection to her father which she feared a little to offer without her mother's mediation.

But when she had a son, and when Hyde agreed that the boy should be named George, she wrote a letter to him. Joris found it one April morning on his desk, and it happened to come in a happy hour. He had been working in his garden, and every plant and flower had brought his Katherine pleasantly back to his memory. All the walks were haunted by her image. The fresh breeze of the river was full of her voice and her clear laughter. The returning birds, chattering in the trees above him, seemed to ask, "Where, then, is the little one gone?"

Her letter, full of love, starred all through with pet words, and wisely reminding him more of their own past happiness than enlarging on her present joy, made his heart melt. He could do no business that day. He felt that he must go home and tell Lysbet: only the mother could fully understand and share his joy. He found her cleaning the "Guilderland cup"—the very cup Mrs. Gordon had found Katherine cleaning when she brought the first love message, and took back that fateful token, her bow of orange ribbon. At that moment Lysbet's thoughts were entirely with Katherine. She was wondering whether Joris and herself might not some day cross the ocean to see their child. When she heard her husband's step at that early hour, she put down the cup in fear, and stood watching the door for his approach. The first glimpse of his face told her that he was no messenger of sorrow. He gave her the letter with a smile, and then walked up and down while she read it.

"Well, Joris, a beautiful letter this is. And thou has a grandson of thy own name—a little Joris. Oh, how I long to see him! I hope that he will grow like thee—so big and handsome as thou art, and also with thy good heart. Oh, the little Joris! Would God he was here!"

The face of Joris was happy, and his eyes shining; but he had not yet much to say. He walked about for an hour, and listened to Lysbet, who, as she polished her silver, retold him all that Katherine had said of her husband's love, and of his goodness to her. With great attention he listened to her description of the renovated house and garden, and of Hyde's purposes with regard to the estate. Then he sat down and smoked his pipe, and after dinner he returned to his pipe and his meditation. Lysbet wondered what he was considering, and hoped that it might be a letter of full forgiveness for her beloved Katherine.