to her regular domestic cares. To her the visit had appeared to
be one of such general interest, that she never suspected any motive
beneath or beyond the friendliness it implied. Yet the moment the
parlour-door had been shut, Mrs. Gordon lifted Katharine's face between
her palms, and said,--

"Faith, child, I am almost run off my head with all the fine things I
have listened to for your sake. Do you know _who_ sent me here?"

"I think, madam, Captain Hyde."

"Psha! Why don't you blush, and stammer, and lie about it? 'I think,
madam, Captain Hyde,'" mimicking Katherine's slight Dutch accent. "'Tis
to be seen, miss, that you understand a thing or two. Now, Captain Hyde
wishes to see you; when can you oblige him so much?"

"I know not. To come to Madam Semple's is forbidden me by my father."

"It is on my account. I protest your father is very uncivil."

"Madam, no; but it is the officers; many come and go, and he thinks it
is not good for me to meet them."

"Oh, indeed, miss, it is very hard on Captain Hyde, who is more in love
than is reasonable Has your father forbidden you to walk down your
garden to the river-bank?"

"No, madam."

"Then, if Captain Hyde pass about two o'clock, he might see you there?"

"At two I am busy with Joanna."

"La, child! At three then?"

"Three?"

The word was a question more than an assent; but Mrs. Gordon assumed the
assent, and did not allow Katharine to contradict it. "And I promised to
bring him a token from you,--he was exceedingly anxious about that
matter; give me the ribbon from your hair."

"Only last week Joanna bought it for me. She would surely ask me, 'Where
is your new ribbon?'"

"Tell her that you lost it."

"How could I say that? It would not be true."

The girl's face was so sincere, that Mrs. Gordon found herself unable to
ridicule the position. "My dear," she answered, "you are a miracle. But,
among all these pretty things, is there nothing you can send?"

Katherine looked thoughtfully around. There was a small Chinese cabinet
on a table: she went to it, and took from a drawer a bow of orange
ribbon. Holding it doubtfully in her hand, she said, "My St. Nicholas
ribbon."

"La, miss, I thought you were a Calvinist! What are you talking of the
saints for?"

"St. Nicholas is our saint, our own saint; and on his day we wear
orange. Yes, even my father then, on his silk cap, puts an orange bow.
Orange is the Dutch colour, you know, madam."

"Indeed,