And at the very hour Joris and Lysbet were discussing the position of their son with regard to Miriam Cohen, the question was being definitely settled at another point. For Joris was not the only person who had observed Bram's devotion to the beautiful Jewess. Cohen had watched him with close and cautious jealousy for many months; but he was far too wise to stimulate love by opposition, and he did not believe in half measures. When he defined Miriam's duty to her, he meant it to be in such shape as precluded argument or uncertainty; and for this purpose delay was necessary. Much correspondence with England had to take place, and the mails were then irregular. But it happened that, after some months of negotiation, a final and satisfactory letter had come to him by the same post as brought Katherine's letter to Joris Van Heemskirk.
He read its contents with a sad satisfaction, and then locked it away until the evening hours secured him from business interruption. Then he went to his grandchild. He found her sitting quietly among the cushions of a low couch. It seemed as if Miriam's thoughts were generally sufficient for her pleasure, for she was rarely busy. She had always time to sit and talk, or to sit and be silent. And Cohen liked best to see her thus,—beautiful and calm, with small hands dropped or folded, and eyes half shut, and mouth closed, but ready to smile and dimple if he decided to speak to her.
She looked so pretty and happy and careless that for some time he did not like to break the spell of her restful beauty. Nor did he until his pipe was quite finished, and he had looked carefully over the notes in his "day-book." Then he said in slow, even tones, "My child, listen to me. This summer my young kinsman Judah Belasco will come here. He comes to marry you. You will be a happy wife, my dear. He has moneys, and he has the power to make moneys; and he is a good young man. I have been cautious concerning that, my dear."
There was a long pause. He did not hurry her, but sat patiently waiting, with his eyes fixed upon the book in his hand.
"I do not want to marry, grandfather. I am so young. I do not know Judah Belasco."
"You shall have time, my dear. It is part of the agreement that he shall now live in New York. He is a rich young man, my dear. He is of the sephardim, as you are too, my dear. You must marry in your own caste; for we are of unmixed blood, faithful children of the tribe of Judah. All of our brethren here are Ashkenasem: therefore, I have had no rest until I got a husband fit for you, my dear. This was my duty, though I brought him from the end of the earth. It has cost me moneys, but I gave cheerfully. The thing is finished now, when you are ready. But you shall not be hurried, my dear."
"Father, I have been a good daughter. Do not make me leave you."
"You have been good, and you will be good always. What is the command?"
"Honor thy father and thy mother."
"And the promise?"