He walked about the streets, discussing these points with himself, till the shops all closed, and on the stoops of the houses in Maiden Lane and Liberty Street there were merry parties of gossiping belles and beaux.  Then he returned to Broadway.  Half a dozen gentlemen were standing before the King’s Arms Tavern, discussing some governmental statement in the “Weekly Mercury;” but though they asked him to stop, and enlighten them on some legal point, he excused himself for that night, and went toward Van Heemskirk’s.  He had suddenly resolved upon a visit.  Why should he put off until the morrow what he might begin that night?

Still debating with himself, he came to a narrow road which ran to the river, along the southern side of Van Heemskirk’s house.  It was only a trodden path used by fishermen, and made by usage through the unenclosed ground.  But coming swiftly up it, as if to detain him, was Captain Hyde.  The two men looked at each other defiantly; and Neil said with a cold, meaning emphasis,—­

“At your service, sir.”

“Mr. Semple, at your service,”—­and touching his sword,—­“to the very hilt, sir.”

“Sir, yours to the same extremity.”

“As for the cause, Mr. Semple, here it is;” and he pushed aside his embroidered coat in order to exhibit to Neil the bow of orange ribbon beneath it.

“I will die it crimson in your blood,” said Neil, passionately.

“In the meantime, I have the felicity of wearing it;” and with an offensively deep salute, he terminated the interview.

[Illustration:  Tail-piece]

[Illustration:  Chapter heading]

VI.

          “Love and a crown no rivalship can bear. 
          Love, love!  Thou sternly dost thy power maintain,
          And wilt not bear a rival in thy reign.”

Neil’s first emotion was not so much one of anger as of exultation.  The civilization of the Semples was scarce a century old; and behind them were generations of fierce men, whose hands had been on their dirks for a word or a look.  “I shall have him at my sword’s point;” that was what he kept saying to himself as he turned from Hyde to Van Heemskirk’s house.  The front-door stood open; and he walked through it to the back-stoop, where Joris was smoking.

Katherine sat upon the steps of the stoop.  Her head was in her hand, her eyes red with weeping, her whole attitude one of desponding sorrow.  But, at this hour, Neil was indifferent to adverse circumstances.  He was moving in that exultation of spirit which may be simulated by the first rapture of good wine, but which is only genuine when the soul takes entire possession of the man, and makes him for some rare, short interval lord of himself, and contemptuous of all fears and doubts and difficulties.  He never noticed that Joris was less kind than usual; but touching Katherine, to arouse her attention, said, “Come with me down the garden, my love.”