life.  She thought rather well than ill of those people of her own race and class who had made themselves a place in the most exclusive ranks.  During the past ten years, there had been great changes in New York’s social life:  many families had become very wealthy, and there was a rapidly growing tendency to luxurious and splendid living.  Lysbet Van Heemskirk saw no reason why her younger children should not move with this current, when it might set them among the growing aristocracy of the New World.

[Illustration:  The amber necklace]

She tried to recall Katharine’s demeanour and words during the past day, and she could find no cause for alarm in them.  True, the child had spent a long time in arranging her beautiful hair, and she had also begged from her the bright amber necklace that had been her own girlish pride; but what then?  It was so natural, especially when there was likely to be fine young gentlemen to see them.  She could not remember having noticed anything at all which ought to make her uneasy; and what Lysbet did not see or hear, she could not imagine.

Yet the past ten hours had really been full of danger to the young girl.  Early in the afternoon, some hours before Joanna was ready to go, Katherine was dressed for her visit to Semple House.  It was the next dwelling to the Van Heemskirks’ on the river-bank, about a quarter of a mile distant, but plainly in sight; and this very proximity gave the mother a sense of security for her children.  It was a different house from the Dutchman’s, one of those great square plain buildings, so common in the Georgian era,—­not at all picturesque, but finished inside with handsomely carved wood-work, and with mirrors and wall-papering brought specially for it from England.

It stood, like Van Heemskirk’s, at the head of a garden sloping to the river; and there was a good deal of pleasant rivalry about these gardens, both proprietors having impressed their own individuality upon their pleasure-grounds.  Semple’s had nothing of the Dutchman’s glowing prettiness and quaintness,—­no clipped yews and hollies, no fanciful flower-beds and little Gothic summer-house.  Its slope was divided into three fine terraces, the descent from one to the other being by broad, low steps; the last flight ending on a small pier, to which the pleasure and fishing boats were fastened.  These terraced walks were finely shaded and adorned with shrubs; and on the main one there was a stone sun-dial, with a stone seat around it.  Van Heemskirk did not think highly of Semple’s garden; and Semple was sure, “that, in the matter o’ flowers and fancy clippings, Van Heemskirk had o’er much o’ a gude thing.”  But still the rivalry had always been a good-natured one, and, in the interchange of bulbs and seeds, productive of much friendly feeling.