As to the doubters, they were completely silenced when the next issue of
the "New York Gazette" appeared; for among its most conspicuous
advertisements was the following: Married, Oct. 19, 1765, by the Rev. Mr. Somers, chaplain to his
Excellency the Governor, Richard Drake Hyde, of Hyde Manor, Norfolk, son
of the late Richard Drake Hyde, and brother of William Drake Hyde, Earl
of Dorset and Hyde, to Katherine, the youngest daughter of Joris and
Lysbet Van Heemskirk, of the city and province of New York.
Witnesses: NIGEL GORDON, H.M. Nineteenth
Light Cavalry.
GEORGE EARLE, H.M. Nineteenth
Light Cavalry.
ADELAIDE GORDON, wife of Nigel
Gordon.
This announcement took every one a little by surprise. A few were really
gratified; the majority perceived that it silenced gossip of a very
enthralling kind. No one could now deplore or insinuate, or express
sorrow or astonishment. And, as rejoicing with one's friends and
neighbours soon becomes a very monotonous thing, Katherine Van
Heemskirk's fine marriage was tacitly dropped. Only for that one day on
which it was publicly declared, was it an absorbing topic. The whole
issue of the "Gazette" was quickly bought; and then people, having seen
the fact with their own eyes, felt a sudden satiety of the whole affair.
On some few it had a more particular influence. Hyde's brother officers
held high festival to their comrade's success. To every bumper they read
the notice aloud, as a toast, and gave a kind of national triumph to
what was a purely personal affair. Joris read it with dim eyes, and then
lit his long Gouda pipe and sat smoking with an air of inexpressible
loneliness. Lysbet read it, and then put the paper carefully away among
the silks and satins in her bottom drawer. Joanna read it, and then
immediately bought a dozen copies and sent them to the relatives of
Batavius, in Dordrecht, Holland.
Neil Sample read and re-read it. It seemed to have a fascination for
him; and for more than an hour he sat musing, with his eyes fixed upon
the fateful words. Then he rose and went to the hearth. There were a few
sticks of wood burning upon it, but they had fallen apart. He put them
together, and, tearing out the notice, he laid it upon them. It meant
much more to Neil than the destruction of a scrap of paper, and he stood
watching it, long after it had become a film of grayish ash.
Bram would not read it at all. He was too full of shame and trouble at
the event; and the moments went as if they moved on lead. But the
unhappy day wore away to its evening; and after tea he gathered a great
nosegay of narcissus, and went to Isaac Cohen's. He did not "hang about
the steps," as Joris in his temper had said. Miriam was not one of those
girls who sit in the door to be gazed at by every passing man. He went
into the store, and she seemed to know his footstep. He had no need to
speak: she came at once from the mystery behind the crowded place into
the clearer light. Plain and dark were her garments, and Bram would have
been unable to describe her dress; but it was as fitting to her as are
the green leaves of the rose-tree to the rose.