The Bow of Orange Ribbon - Page 4/189

"Why don't the children come, then? It is nearly dark, and the dew

falls; and the river mist I like not for them."

"For my part, I am not uneasy, Joris. They were to drink a dish of tea

with Madam Semple, and Bram promised to go for them. And, see, they are

coming; but Bram is not with them, only the elder. Now, what can be the

matter?"

"For every thing, there are more reasons than one; if there is a bad

reason, Elder Semple will be sure to croak about it. I could wish that

just now he had not come."

"But then he is here, and the welcome must be given to a caller on the

threshold. You know that, Joris."

"I will not break a good custom."

Elder Alexander Semple was a great man in his sphere. He had a

reputation for both riches and godliness, and was scarcely more

respected in the market-place than he was in the Middle Kirk. And there

was an old tie between the Semples and the Van Heemskirks,--a tie going

back to the days when the Scotch Covenanters and the Netherland

Confessors clasped hands as brothers in their "churches under the

cross." Then one of the Semples had fled for life from Scotland to

Holland, and been sheltered in the house of a Van Heemskirk; and from

generation to generation the friendship had been continued. So there was

much real kindness and very little ceremony between the families; and

the elder met his friend Joris with a grumble about having to act as

"convoy" for two lasses, when the river mist made the duty so

unpleasant.

"Not to say dangerous," he added, with a forced cough. "I hae my plaid

and my bonnet on; but a coat o' mail couldna stand mists, that are a

vera shadow o' death to an auld man, wi' a sair shortness o' the

breath."

"Sit down, Elder, near the fire. A glass of hot Hollands will take the

chill from you."

"You are mair than kind, gudewife; and I'll no say but what a sma' glass

is needfu', what wi' the late hour, and the thick mist"-"Come, come, Elder. Mists in every country you will find, until you

reach the New Jerusalem."

"Vera true, but there's a difference in mists. Noo, a Scotch mist isna

at all unhealthy. When I was a laddie, I hae been out in them for a week

thegither, ay, and felt the better o' them." He had taken off his plaid

and bonnet as he spoke; and he drew the chair set for him in front of

the blazing logs, and stretched out his thin legs to the comforting

heat.