“You ought to know, father.  I have small and sad experience with them.”

“Sae, I hope you’ll stand by my side.  We twa can keep the house thegither.  If we are a’ right, the Government will whistle by a woman’s talk.”

“Did you not say Katherine was coming back?”

“I did that.  See there, again.  Hyde has dropped his uniform, and sold a’ that he has, and is coming to fight in a quarrel that’s nane o’ his.  Heard you ever such foolishness?  But it is Katherine’s doing; there’s little doot o’ that.”

“He’s turned rebel, then?”

“Ay has he.  That’s what women do.  Politics and rebellion is the same thing to them.”

“Well, father, I shall not turn rebel.”

“O Neil, you take a load off my heart by thae words!”

“I have nothing against the king, and I could not be Hyde’s comrade.”

[Illustration:  Chapter heading]

XVI.

“How glorious stand the valiant, sword in hand,
In front of battle for their native land!”

It was into this thundery atmosphere of coming conflict, of hopes and doubts, of sundering ties and fearful looking forward, that Richard and Katherine Hyde came, from the idyllic peace and beauty of their Norfolk house.  But there was something in it that fitted Hyde’s real disposition.  He was a natural soldier, and he had arrived at the period of life when the mere show and pomp of the profession had lost all satisfying charm.  He had found a quarrel worthy of his sword, one that had not only his deliberate approval, but his passionate sympathy.  In fact, his first blow for American independence had been struck in the duel with Lord Paget; for that quarrel, though nominally concerning Lady Suffolk, was grounded upon a dislike engendered by their antagonism regarding the government of the Colonies.

It was an exquisite April morning when they sailed up New York bay once more.  Joris had been watching for the “Western Light;” and when she came to anchor at Murray’s Wharf, his was the foremost figure on it.  He had grown a little stouter, but was still a splendid-looking man; he had grown a little older, but his tenderness for his daughter was still young and fresh and strong as ever.  He took her in his arms, murmuring, “Mijn Katrijntje, mijn Katrijntje!  Ach, mijn kind, mijn kind!”

Hyde had felt that there might be some embarrassment in his own case, perhaps some explanation or acknowledgment to make; but Joris waved aside any speech like it.  He gave Hyde both hands; he called him “mijn zoon;” he stooped, and put the little lad’s arms around his neck.  In many a kind and delicate way he made them feel that all of the past was forgotten but its sweetness.

And surely that hour Lysbet had the reward of her faithful affection.  She had always admired Hyde; and she was proud and happy to have him in her home, and to have him call her mother.  The little Joris took possession of her heart in a moment.  Her Katherine was again at her side.  She had felt the clasp of her hands; she had heard her whisper “mijn moeder” upon her lips.