little beauty, Cornelia?"

"As you say, Van Ariens."

"And yet, in one way, she is a stranger. Such a little one she was, when
the coming of the English sent the family apart and away. To the army
went the Doctor, and there he stayed, till the war was over. Mrs. Moran
took her child, and went to her father's home in Philadelphia. When
those redcoats went away forever from New York, the Morans came back
here, but the little girl they left in the school at Bethlehem, where
those good Moravian Sisters have made her so sweet as themselves; so
pure! so honest-hearted! so clever! It was only last month she came back
to New York, and few people have seen her; and yet this is the truth--
she is the sweetest maid in Maiden Lane; though up this side, and down
that side, are some beauties--the daughters of Peter Sylvester; and of
Jacob Beckley; and of Claes Vandolsom. Oh, yes! and many others. I speak
not of my Arenta. But look now! It is the little maid herself, that is
coming down the street."

"And it is my grandson who is at her side. The rascal! He ought now to
be reading his law books in Mr. Hamilton's office. But what will you?
The race of young men with old heads on their shoulders is not yet born--
a God's mercy it is not!"

"We also have been young, Van Heemskirk."

"I forget not, my friend. My Joris sees not me, and I will not see him."
Then the two old men were silent, but their eyes were fixed on the youth
and maiden, who were slowly advancing towards them; the sun's westering
rays making a kind of glory for them to walk in.