University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

“Come, Jessie, it is not necessary to be so very particular
in arranging your curls; it is not your beau, I
believe, who is expected.”

The amiable Gertrude had never forgiven her sister
for her fascinating appearance as bridesmaid, and
occasionally amused herself now by taunting her
with the futility of her charms in obtaining admirers.
“Though, to be sure,” she continued, “Harmon may
possibly come, for I saw him passing but this instant
on horseback, with a bag of meal for a saddle. He
is a gallant cavalier, Jessie, and I caught him in the
very act of casting a tender glance this way, just as
his steed caracoled away.”

Had not Harmon Van Dingle actually made some
awkward and indirect advances to Jessie; had not
old Baltus and Burley smoked seventeen pipes on the
subject, and settled the whole matter to their perfect
satisfaction, only to be indignantly vetoed by the little

beauty; had it not been for these things, Gertrude's
unfeeling joke would have had but little effect. As
it was, Jessie's blood for once boiled with wrath, for
you have been mistaken, gentle reader, if you have
supposed that Jessie Van Corlear was altogether an
angel. There are in reality no angels among mortals,
at least there were none returned in the census of New
York in the year 1690. But Jessie well knew that
she was no match, either in coolness or sarcasm, for
her practised sister, and she wisely refrained from
entering the lists against such unfavorable odds, contenting
herself with shedding a few bitter tears, and
wondering seriously for the fiftieth time, what enormous
crime she had been guilty of, to draw down
upon her head such accumulated misery.

It was about the middle of October, and Livingston,
who had spent the summer chiefly in travel in some
of the more southerly provinces, was expected home
on that day, and it was in allusion to his return that
Gertrude's first remark had been made. But her
agreeable anticipations were disappointed. The mail
stage from Philadelphia, which came in punctually
every other Saturday, arrived with its usual parade

at the old Crown and Anchor Inn, and although it contained
nearly a dozen passengers, packed with inconceivable
skill, it did not bring Harry Livingston. There
is undoubtedly a letter, however, thought the disappointed
Gertrude, and one of the younger brothers
was forthwith despatched to the city post-office.

The Misses Van Dingle knew very well on what
day the Philadelphia coach came in, and they knew
equally well that the patroon was expected, like the
rain, somewhere about these days; but whether their
knowledge on these points had anything to do with a
friendly call which they now made upon Gertrude, it
is difficult to tell. They were daughters of Eve, and
had inherited, at an immense remove, an infinitesimal
portion of her curiosity; and let them not, therefore,
be blamed if they were desirous to behold a sight so
rare to them as a meeting between two long-separated
lovers. They came—no less lynx-eyed or spiteful
than usual, but a shade less lofty, for the Van Corlears
were now classed among the aristocracy. The fates
indeed were humbled. They felt as if the foot of the
haughty Gertrude were resting perpetually upon their
necks, and pressing down their very jugulars. But

if they had lost a small part of their pride, the deficiency
was made up by an additional supply of secret
malice, so that, on the whole, the moral proportions of
their minds were tolerably well preserved. The interview
was rather a formal one, for they had few
topics of conversation in common, but there was an
ancient and very convenient custom in New York,
which is now unfortunately obsolete, of talking much
about the weather; so that it was considered quite
allowable to tell an individual that it rained, notwithstanding
he might, at the same instant, feel the proof
of the fact trickling down his neck. This went a
good way. And then the fates found opportunity to
vent a little venom by hinting at the dreariness of living
in the wilderness, and Gertrude spoke once, in the
most accidental way, of her anticipated house in town.
They winced then, the fates did; and they were soon
after about retiring in utter discomfiture, when a
shuffling and snuffling without, announced the arrival
of Gertrude's penny-post extraordinary. He had
brought a letter too, and Miss Van Corlear, willing to
add a little to her triumph, extended her hand carelessly
for the missive, remarking at the same time
that Harry wrote very frequently. But on looking at
the superscription, she slightly colored.

“Ah, it's from that tiresome Seth,” she said, “filled
of course with fox-hunts, and long yarns about Jowler
and Towzer; you may read it, if you choose,” she
continued, tossing the letter to Jessie, “for I certainly
sha'n't.”

The letter was addressed to Livingston; but as he
had left word that all communications from Seth
might be opened at home, Jessie did not hesitate to
break the seal. Eager to hear anything from dear
Seth, and vexed that he was so unceremoniously
treated, her eye ran rapidly down the page. But
the letter dropped suddenly from her hand, and rising
to her feet she exclaimed, with a look of utter astonishment:

Three shrieky exclamations were heard, and three
pairs of flail-like arms were thrown up; but silent
and pale as the sculptured marble, and as incapable
of speech, sat Gertrude. She found a voice at length,
though not seemingly her own, so hoarse and unnatural
did it sound.

“Bleecker Van Ness is dead,” she said, emphasizing
the word, “and buried in the sea, long years ago;
why will you repeat the idle tales of that vagrant
Seth?”

“Seth is no vagrant,” returned Jessie mildly, and
extending the letter to her sister; “read here the
details for yourself.”

“I will not read it,” replied Gertrude, dashing the
paper to the floor, and striding across the room with
the air of a tragic queen; “it is false,” she said,
“whoever says it; false,” glancing at the visiters,
“whoever repeats it.”

So saying, she went out.

The fates lingered only long enough to assure Jessie
that they thought there must be some mistake about
it—indeed they sincerely hoped so, and thought, for
their part, that nothing at all had better be said on
the subject for the present; and so saying they hastened
to depart, and spread the news. The youngest,
indeed, was overheard to say, as she left the house,
that she always thought there was something suspicious
in the looks of that Livingston.

Direful was the commotion at Van Corlear's; for

despite of Gertrude's affected incredulity, there was
too much reason to credit the unwelcome news.
Seth's letter had stated the facts too definitely to
admit of much question. The resemblance to the
portrait; the full recognition of the claimant by the
oldest of the slaves; and his consistent story in other
respects, scarcely left room for a doubt. Besides
this, the new heir manifested the utmost indifference
as to whether his claim was promptly admitted or
not, having, as he said, abundant evidence at command
in the person of an old college acquaintance
now in England, who had shared his captivity in
Algiers.

Old Burley broke three successive pipes in trying
to fire up for reflection on this important subject, and
finally dashing pipes and tobacco together into the
fire, he gave way to a series of Dutch anathemas,
which, properly strung, would have reached half
way to Kenterhook. “The tuyfel,” he said, “might
have come if he had chosen, and should have been
heartily welcome; but for this sea-soaked mollyyhack
to turn up now, after lying six years quietly under
water, potstausends!” said the old man, “donner and

blitzen!” and he stamped about the room until the
whole house rang with the echoes of his elephantine
feet.

Dame Van Corlear also was not a little afflicted,
for she too had indulged in her dreams of ambition,
though these were of an extremely modified character.
She had counted largely, indeed, on her
daughter's elevation to the superintendence of the
Kenterhook dairy, with its interminable rolls of
freshly made butter, and its long triple tiers of nicely
shelved and snowy little Dutch cheeses; and had indulged
in some far-reaching visions of periodical
visits to the manor house on occasions of unusual
interest. But with the simplicity of a very guileless
heart, she did not think of suspecting the stranger's
claim. “Bleecker,” she said, “was her own cousin
only six times removed, and was a very good boy,
and his rights were his rights, and of course he
wouldn't pretend to be alive if he wasn't, would he?',

Gertrude had descended sufficiently from her first
lofty position to peruse the dreadful letter, and she
felt a secret, sickening, withering conviction that its
contents were true. But she entertained no idea of

tame submission. If Bleecker Van Ness had really
returned, he was alone, friendless, and without pecuniary
means to prosecute his claims; while Livingston,
already in possession of the estate, would be able
to keep up a protracted and expensive litigation,
which would be ruinous to his competitor. She did
not allow herself to doubt that the new claimant
would shrink from so unequal a contest, and that,
long accustomed to hardships and privations abroad,
he would gladly resign his pretensions for a competence
that would insure him a quiet and peaceful
home. In a word, he was to be bought off. A few
thousand pounds would but slightly impair Livingston's
magnificent estate, and were not worth a
thought. These were the flattering reflections in
which Gertrude indulged, as still holding the abhorred
letter, she sat, in the deepest abstraction,
gazing upon the floor. But a sudden flush suffused
her pale face, and her little foot fell with a hammer-like
force upon the carpet.

“Oh why,” she exclaimed, “why must those malicious
old maids, those very trumpeters of Fame, have
been here at such a moment! And why did that

very idiot of a Jessie proclaim it before them? The
neighborhood—the city—aye, the whole province,”
she continued, rising and clasping her hands in agony,
“will ring with the news!”

But Gertrude's grief was altogether secret; before
others she carefully concealed her apprehensions, and
treated the whole affair with ridicule.

Livingston at length came. He was met by Burley
without, bearing as dolorous a face as one so round
and rubicund could be, who returned his joyous salutations
by hinting, in general terms, at intelligence of
the most dismal and awful nature. Appalled and
stunned at the thought of Gertrude's death or dangerous
illness, the noble-hearted young man was really
relieved on learning that his misfortune extended only
to the probable loss of his property. Not that he was
unmoved at the prospect of so serious a calamity; on
the contrary his alarm was great. He hastened to
meet Gertrude, anxious to dispel her fears, but was
surprised to find that she manifested but little concern
on the subject. He was induced, indeed, by her example,
to hope that there was no serious ground for
apprehension. His prompt and honorable resolve was

to subject the claims of the stranger to the severest
scrutiny, and, if fully convinced of his rights, to surrender
the estate without litigation. But before learning
this conclusion, Gertrude had hinted in no ambiguous
terms, at her own ingenious scheme, provided
indeed, which she very much doubted, that any action
at all should be requisite.

“Surely, Gertrude,” replied Livingston, “this is
hardly a subject to jest upon.”

“I do not jest,” returned Miss Van Corlear, “but I
would not have you sacrifice everything to a mere
abstract idea of right and wrong.”

A sudden pallor overspread the face of Livingston.
“And is it thus,” he said, “that you designate the immutable
principle of Justice?”

Gertrude had the grace to color at this reproof, and
murmured something to the effect that she was
scarcely conscious of what she said or thought on so
exciting a subject. The patroon mused sadly and in
silence for some minutes upon so startling a disclosure
of principles, but came charitably to the conclusion
that Gertrude's remarks had been only the result of a
thoughtless and momentary impulse. He at once addressed

a letter to Seth, inviting his guest to pay him
a personal visit at Van Corlear's, that he might have
the means of judging of the correctness of his claims.
To this he received a ready answer from the claimant
himself, assuring him that he would do himself the
honor to wait upon Mr. Livingston in a very few days,
until when, he begged that he might be considered
the latter's very much obliged, and very humble, and
very obedient servant.

How this distinguished gentleman travelled from
Kenterhook to New York does not with any certainty
appear, but he arrived at Van Corlear's from the city
in no small state. A sumptuous carriage and a span
of pawing, champing horses, and a coachman black as
Night, and a footman still blacker, were seen, suddenly
standing before the alderman's gate, fully exposed to
an extensive masked battery of eyes from the Van
Dingle garrison opposite, including the cross guns of
Miss Eve. The dress of the individual who alighted
from this vehicle corresponded with his travelling
equipage. The hands of no provincial artisan had
been upon the elegant apparel that enveloped the
graceful form of Mr. Bleecker Van Ness. If it had

been allowable to criticise the labors of a London shop,
a practised eye might possibly have found fault with
the fitting of some of these trans-atlantic garments,
but nothing could be more captivating than the rich
ample cloak, as yet unknown in the colonies, which
hung suspended from the shoulders, and fell in many
a graceful fold around the faultless legs of the new
patroon.

Gertrude's heart sank within her, as she perceived
all these evidences of resources in the stranger. She
feared that he would hardly prove a purchasable
commodity, or if so, that he was undoubtedly marked
up exceedingly high, with no discount for the ready
money. Now it so chanced that Livingston was
absent in the city, at the time of this important visit,
and it so happened, nay, it did not happen, for it was a
pre-concerted plan of Gertrude's, that there was a
pompous pragmatical Dutch lawyer, named Van
Bummel, a cousin of the Van Corlears, tarrying with
the family for a few days. He was not exactly retained
in a professional manner, but Gertrude was
anxious to avoid the dangerous effect of first impressions
in favor of the new heir, and she had great confidence

in her cousin's adroitness in making any given
subject whatever wear just such an aspect as he chose.
In company with that gentleman, therefore, and with
him only, Gertrude contrived to receive the distinguished
guest, who, having been assured that Mr.
Livingston would soon be at home, had graciously
consented to await his return. Miss Van Corlear's
reception of her visiter was cool to the last degree;
and Van Bummel, in addressing him as Mr. Van Ness,
thought proper to do so under special protest that he
did not thereby admit or deny the gentleman's right
to the cognomen which he had assumed, but left the
matter entirely open for future proof, or rebuttal, in
the same manner as if he had never spoken, pronounced,
uttered, ejaculated, or mentioned the same
in any manner whatever. The stranger replied only
by a contemptuous stare at the swoln-looking attorney,
and helping himself to a seat near Gertrude, he assured
her that it was with the greatest pain he had
learned that his assumption of his legal rights at home
was to be accompanied by severe disappointment on
the part of some of his worthy relations. The lady
replied, that from what little she had learned upon the
subject, she believed there was no cause for his giving
himself any very great uneasiness upon that point;
and that although Mr. Harry Livingston and his
friends would never be found backward in restoring to
others their rights, she did not think that a princely
estate was to be yielded up merely for the asking,
even although the modest claimant should possess an
accidental resemblance to the true heir.

“I admire, madam,” replied the other, “the very
ingenious and very correct view which you seem to
have of this matter. I have said frequently to your
brother Seth, Cousin Harry will recognize me at a
glance; he will see the fidelity of the portrait in his
own study, at which he has so often gazed, and he
will never dream of disputing my rights. But it is, as
you say, a princely estate to which I lay claim, and I
would prefer making stronger proof of my title. I
have the most ample evidence at command, and with
cousin Harry's permission, shall despatch a special
messenger at once to England—another to the Netherlands—and
a third to—to—Algiers.”

“It is very well,” interposed Van Bummel, “that
you are in no particular haste if you propose to await

the return of your express from Algiers. He would
do well to carry his ransom in his pocket.”

“Ah, never fear,” returned Derick; “I assure you
I left the city on very good terms with the Dey.”

“And how, if I may inquire,” continued the pertinacious
Van Bummel, “how was your own release effected?”

“With that of seventeen others, by the intervention
of the British government,” replied Derick promptly.
“My friend, Lord Sidney, heard, by the merest accident,
of my imprisonment, through an escaped sailor,
who had once seen that noble lord and myself walking
arm-in-arm in front of Somerset House, and who,
fortunately for me, had a devilish good memory.”

“Yes, sir,” continued the lawyer, “it was so; and
it would perhaps be still more fortunate for you, if
you had a good memory yourself. Do we not very
well know that the English government is deeply
engaged in intestine wars—that the whole realm is
agitated with the struggles of the dethroned monarch
to regain his lost crown—and that the royal William,
but half secure of his throne, would be little apt to
give heed to any such trivial matters?”

“I must say,” returned Derick, “that you are exceedingly,
nay, I may say, surpassingly impertinent,
and that at a proper time I will hold you responsible
therefor. Yet for the satisfaction of this lady, I will
make answer, that it was during a temporary lull of
the war that my friend found access to the ear of
King William—despatched a man-of-war to the Barbary
coast—bombarded the city of Algiers—destroyed
seventy-three houses and three mosques, and brought
the Dey to terms in twenty-four hours.”

“Nay, then,” replied Van Bummel, with a scintillation
of Dutch wit, “if the Dey held out for twenty-four
hours, that was certainly as much as could be expected.”

Although this joke produced a laugh, it did not
seem in the least to soften the asperity of Van Bummel
himself, who, lowering his spectacles, and eyeing
Derick still more closely, continued:

“And so the Moorish monarch not only released
you, but took you to his palace, I warrant, filled your
pockets with gold, and gave you an order on his lord
high tailor for a suit of Christian clothes?”

“Under protest again, against your very amusing
impudence, not so,” replied Derick. “You are surprised

to see me well dressed, and apparently in no
want of money. The secret is plain; I have been in
the hands of the Jews.”

“The Jews? They are said to leave scarcely the
skin, much less a covering of superfine saxony on their
customers.”

“You misunderstand me: it is a common thing
abroad to raise money of the usurers on estates in
expectancy. I have supplied my wants from this
source; and, by the way,” he continued, finding that
Van Bummel pressed him pretty hard, “I find that I
have a few thousand pounds more than I require,
which I should like to put into safe hands for investment—
possibly into yours.”

The latter part of this speech was addressed in a
low tone to the attorney, and produced a singular
change in his deportment. His hitherto rattling fire
occurred now at long intervals, and finally sunk to a
mere pop-gun affair. He soon, indeed, called Gertrude
aside, and to her great consternation informed
her that he thought, on the whole, there could be
no rational doubt that the individual before them was
Mr. Bleecker Van Ness, the rightful proprietor of all

the estates of Kenterhook. The interview having
been considerably protracted without the return of
Livingston, the guest took his leave, and promised to
call again on the ensuing day.