She spread out all her finery All kinds of frivolity and amusement "Dick, I am angry at you" She was softly singing to the drowsy child Chapter heading She was stretched upon a sofa She stood in the gray light by the window Chapter heading She knelt speechless and motionless Jane lifted her apron to her eyes "O Richard, my lover, my husband!" Chapter heading "One night in Rome, in a moment, the thing was altered," "I must draw my sword again" "We have closed his Majesty's custom-house forever" "I am reading the Word" He was standing on the step of his high counting-desk. Chapter heading Lysbet and Catherine were unpacking He marshalled the six children in front of him The City Hall He swung a great axe Lysbet's hands gave it to them Tail-piece THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON [Illustration: May in New York one hundred and twenty-one years ago] I. "_Love, that old song, of which the world is never weary_." It was one of those beautiful, lengthening days, when May was pressing back with both hands the shades of the morning and the evening; May in New York one hundred and twenty-one years ago, and yet the May of A.D. 1886,--the same clear air and wind, the same rarefied freshness, full of faint, passing aromas from the wet earth and the salt sea and the blossoming gardens. For on the shore of the East River the gardens still sloped down, even to below Peck Slip; and behind old Trinity the apple-trees blossomed like bridal nosegays, the pear-trees rose in immaculate pyramids, and here and there cows were coming up heavily to the scattered houses; the lazy, intermitting tinkle of their bells giving a pleasant notice of their approach to the waiting milking-women. In the city the business of the day was over; but at the open doors of many of the shops, little groups of apprentices in leather aprons were talking, and on the broad steps of the City Hall a number of grave-looking men were slowly separating after a very satisfactory civic session. They had been discussing the marvellous increase of the export trade of New York; and some vision of their city's future greatness may have appeared to them, for they held themselves with the lofty and confident air of wealthy merchants and "members of his Majesty's Council for the Province of New York." [Illustration: Joris Van Heemskirk] They were all noticeable men, but Joris Van Heemskirk specially so. His bulk was so great that it seemed as if he must have been built up: it was too much to expect that he had ever been a baby. He had a fair, ruddy face, and large, firm eyes, and a mouth that was at once strong and sweet. And he was also very handsomely dressed. The long, stiff skirts of his dark-blue coat were lined with satin, his breeches were black velvet, his ruffles edged with Flemish lace, his shoes clasped with silver buckles, his cocked hat made of the finest beaver.