“Rem went to Cornelia as they were about to leave, and he reminded her that, by her permission, he had come to walk home with her.

“Cornelia turned to Hyde, excused herself, and, cool and silent, took her place by Rem’s side.

“Hyde accepted the position with a smile, and a gracious bow, and then joined Arenta.

“Arenta was far less agreeable than she ought to have been; for both she and her brother had a kind of divination.  They knew, in spite of appearances, that Rem had not got the best of Joris Hyde.  I am quick in my observations, and I know this is so.  Well then, it is a very interesting affair as it stands—­and it is like to grow far more interesting.  I am not opposed to that.  I shall enjoy it.  Hyde and Cornelia ought to marry—­and they have my good wishes.”

As for Hyde, no thought that could mar the sweetness and joy of this fortunate hour came into his mind.  Neither Rem’s evident hatred, nor Arenta’s disapproval, nor yet Cornelia’s silence, troubled him.  He had within his heart a talisman that made everything propitious.  And he was so joyous that the people whom he passed on the street caught happiness from him.  Men and women alike turned to look after the youth, for they felt the virtue of his passing presence, and wondered what it might mean.  Even the necessary parting from Cornelia was only a phase of this wonderful gladness; for Love never fails of his token, and, though Arenta’s sharp eyes could not discover it, Hyde received the silent message that was meant for him, and for him only.  That one thought made his heart bound and falter with its exquisite delight—­for him only—­for him only, was that swift but certain assurance; that instantaneous bright flash of love that held in it all heaven and earth, and left him, as he told himself again and again, the happiest man in all the world.

He was hardly responsible for his actions at this hour; for when a swift gallop brought him to the Van Heemskirk house, he quite unconsciously struck the door some rapid, forceful blows, with his riding whip.  His grandfather opened it with an angry face.

“I thought it was thee,” he said.  “Now, then, in such lordly fashion, whom didst thou summon? dog or slave, was it?”

“Oh, grandfather, I intended no harm.  Did I strike so hard?  Upon my word, I meant it not.”

At this moment Madame Van Heemskirk came quickly forward.  She turned a face of disapproval on her husband, and asked sharply, “Why dost thou complain?”

“I like not my house-door struck so rudely, Lysbet.  No man in all America, but Joris Hyde, would dare to do it.”

At these words Joris flung himself from his horse and clasped his grandfather’s hand.  “I did wrong,” he said warmly; “but I am beside myself with happiness; and I thought of nothing but telling you.  My heart was in such a hurry that my hands forgot how to behave themselves.”