“The proverb holds, that to be wise and love
          Is hardly granted to the gods above.”

“Well, well, to-day goes to its forefathers, like all the rest; and, as for what comes after it, every thing is in the love and counsel of the Almighty One.”

This was Joris Van Heemskirk’s last thought ere he fell asleep that night, after Elder Semple’s cautious disclosure and proposition.  In his calm, methodical, domestic life, it had been an “eventful day.”  We say the words often and unreflectingly, seldom pausing to consider that such days are the results which months, years, perchance centuries, have made possible.  Thus, a long course of reckless living and reckless gambling, and the consequent urgent need of ready money, had first made Captain Hyde turn his thoughts to the pretty daughter of the rich Dutch merchant.

Madam Semple, in her desire to enhance the importance of the Van Heemskirks, had mentioned more than once the handsome sums of ready money given to each of Katharine’s sisters on their wedding-day; and both Colonel Gordon and his wife had thought of this sum so often, as a relief to their nephew’s embarrassments, that it seemed almost as much Hyde’s property as if he had been born to inherit it.  At first Katherine, as its encumbrance, had been discussed very heartlessly,—­she could be left in New York when his regiment received marching orders, if it were thought desirable; or she could be taken to England, and settled as mistress of Hyde Manor House, a lonely mansion on the Norfolk fens, which was so rarely tenanted by the family that Hyde had never been there since his boyhood.

“She is a homespun little thing,” laughed the colonel’s fashionable wife, “and quite unfit to go among people of our condition.  But she adores you, Dick; and she will be passably happy with a house to manage, and a visit from you when you can spare the time.”

“Oh, your servant, aunt!  Then I am a very indifferent judge; for indeed she has much spirit below her gentle manner; and, upon my word, I think her as fine a creature as you can find in the best London society.  The task, I assure you, is not easy.  When Katherine is won, then, in faith, her father may be in no hurry of approval.  And the child is a fair, innocent child:  I am very uneasy to do her wrong.  The ninety-nine plagues of an empty purse are to blame for all my ill deeds.”

“Upon my word, Dick, nothing can be more commendable than your temper.  You make vastly proper reflection, sir; but you are in troubled waters,—­admit it,—­and this little Dutch-craft may bring you respectably into harbour.