"That is right for you, but not for me. My wife was a Gordon, and we couldn't but offer our house to a cousin in a strange country. And you'll find few better men than Col. Nigel Gordon; as for his wife, she's a fine English leddy, and I hae little knowledge anent such women. But a Scot canna kithe a kindness; if I gie Colonel Gordon a share o' my house, I must e'en show a sort o' hospitality to his friends and visitors. And the colonel's wife is much thought o', in the regiment and oot o' it. She has a sight o' vera good company,--young officers and bonnie leddies, and some o' the vera best o' our ain people." "There it is. I want not my daughters to learn new ways. There are the Van Voorts: they began to dine and dance at the governor's house, and then they went to the English Church." "They were Lutherans to begin wi', Joris." "My Lysbet is the finest lady in the whole land: let her daughters walk in her steps. That is what I want. But Neil can come here; I will make him welcome, and a good girl is to be courted on her father's hearth. Now, there is enough said, and also there is some one coming." "It will be Neil and Bram;" and, as the words were spoken, the young men entered. [Illustration: Neil and Bram] "Again you are late, Bram;" and the father looked curiously in his son's face. It was like looking back upon his own youth; for Bram Van Heemskirk had all the physical traits of his father, his great size, his commanding presence and winning address, his large eyes, his deep, sonorous voice and slow speech. He was well dressed in light-coloured broadcloth; but Neil Semple wore a coat and breeches of black velvet, with a long satin vest, and fine small ruffles. He was tall and swarthy, and had a pointed, rather sombre face. Without speaking much in the way of conversation, he left an impression always of intellectual adroitness,--a young man of whom people expected a successful career. With the advent of Bram and Neil, the consultation ended. The elder, grumbling at the chill and mist, wrapped himself in his plaid, and leaning on his son's arm, cautiously picked his way home by the light of a lantern. Bram drew his chair to the hearth, and sat silently waiting for any question his father might wish to ask. But Van Heemskirk was not inclined to talk. He put aside his pipe, nodded gravely to his son, and went thoughtfully upstairs. At the closed door of his daughters' room, he stood still a moment. There was a murmur of conversation within it, and a ripple of quickly smothered laughter. How well his soul could see the child, with her white, small hands over her mouth, and her bright hair scattered upon the white pillow! "_Ach, mijn kind, mijn kind! Mijn liefste kind!_" he whispered. "God Almighty keep thee from sin and sorrow!" [Illustration: Tail-piece] [Illustration: Chapter heading] II. _"To be a sweetness more desired than spring,-- This is the flower of life."_