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 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES READE 
 
 THE ORIGINAL VERSION OF 
 
 THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 ANDREW LANG 
 
 r S J 
 
 ► ^ <. . *» •■* n D n i J 
 
 
 * J J t 
 
 LONDON 
 
 HENRY FROWDE 
 
 1910 
 Q 9 ^. -^^ K
 
 
 
 sJ INTRODUCTION 
 
 A Good Fight, by Charles Reade, is here for the first 
 time pubUshed as a separate book, with the illus- 
 trations ; though, with a few changes, A Good Fight, 
 as far as chapter xxvii, is represented by the twenty- 
 three first chapters of the author's long novel, The ^ 
 Cloister and the Hearth. It is not certain that Reade, ) 
 when he planned A Good Fight, meant it to be a "> 
 rather short, not a full-blowTi novel, though his own ' 
 words convey that impression, as we shall see. In 
 any case, the history of the tale is curious, and carries 
 us back through fifty years, while the source of the 
 outline of the narrative — accepted by Reade as 
 historically true — raises interesting questions. 
 
 In 1859, Charles Dickens quarrelled with Messrs. 
 Bradbury & Evans, the pubHshers of his cheap popular 
 serial. Household Words. The feud arose out of 
 Dickens's separation from his wife, and the refusal 
 of Bradbury & Evans to pubhsh, in Punch, something 
 Q which the novelist wanted them to insert. After 
 the rupture, Dickens founded a new popular weekly, 
 All the Year Bound, and Messrs. Bradbury & Evans 
 brought out ' Once a Week, an Illustrated Miscellany 
 of Ldterature, Art, Science, and Popular Information '. 
 As proprietors of Punch they were connected with 
 
 X
 
 iv INTRODUCTION 
 
 the best artists in black and white. Their first 
 number (July 2) opened wdth a charming vignette 
 and two larger draAvings, all full of pretty girls from 
 the pencil of John Leech, in illustration of verses by 
 the very clever Shirley Brooks. Then came popular 
 science, with ' Man among the Mammoths '. It was 
 revealed to the sceptical pubhc that palaeohthic 
 chipped flints really are of ancient human making, as 
 M. Boucher de Perthes had scandahzed science by 
 averring, in 1847. But it was not yet admitted that 
 palaeohthic man was what Mr. E. B. Tylor sweetly 
 records of him in verse : 
 
 ' But the mild anthropologist, — he^s 
 Not recent inclined to suppose 
 Flints palaeohthic like these, 
 Quaternary bones such as those ! 
 In Rhinoceros, Mammoth, and Co.'s 
 First epoch, the Human began 
 Theologians all to expose, 
 'Tis the mission of Primitive Man ! ' 
 
 Once a Week did not think these facts ' absolutely 
 proved ' in 1859. 
 
 There was, next, in the first number, a snatch from 
 a saga by Sir G. W. Dasent ; an illustration by Tenniel ; 
 an essay on projectiles, from the arrow to the rifle — 
 indicating, dejd, distrust in the bayonet ; a poem 
 illustrated by Millais ; and finally A Good Fight, by 
 Charles Reade, with the admirable designs of Charles 
 Keene, reproduced in this edition. 
 
 The paper continued to be illustrated by the artists
 
 INTRODUCTION v 
 
 named, and also by Frederick Walker, F. Sandys, 
 M. J. Lawless, H. K. Browne (Phiz), and George 
 du Maurier. But the paper was, in its art, too good 
 for the public, while a novel by Mr. George Meredith 
 {Evan Harrington) lowered its circulation, though 
 illustrated by Charles Keene. 
 
 The truth is that the novels in Once a Week were 
 not what the public liked. A Good Fight ended in 
 October, and no long serial (by Mrs. Henry Wood, for 
 example) was ready to follow. This looks as if the 
 close of the story were premature and unexpected : 
 no other novel was ready to take its place. 
 
 Reade made A Good Fight end happily ; the hero 
 and heroine are duly married. He later added, in 
 the proportion of four-fifths, new^ matter to the tale, 
 and pubhshed it as The Cloister and the Hearth, which 
 Sir Walter Besant, Mr. Swinburne, and other people, j^ 
 thought a masterpiece in the way of an historical ^ 
 novel. Reade writes, ' I took wider views of the sub- 
 ject, and also felt uneasy at having deviated, unneces- 
 sarily, from the historical outUne of a true story,' 
 which, true or untrue, ended badly ; Gerard becoming 
 a priest when he hears, in Italy, a false report of 
 Margaret's death. Their one child, Erasmus, is thus 
 illegitimate. 
 
 Now is there any truth at all in this tale about the 
 parents of Erasmus 1 What is the source of the tale ? 
 Reade says : ' There is a musty chronicle ' (to the 
 novelist a chronicle is necessarily 'musty'), 'written 
 in tolerable Latin,' and that is his source.
 
 vi INTRODUCTION 
 
 Where is that ' chronicle ' ; what is its date ; who 
 is its author ? Reade does not tell us ; his public did 
 not want to know ; nobody does know. ' Wanting to 
 know, don't you know ! ' I turned to Mr. Froude, 
 whose work on Erasmus was recommended to me, by 
 a librarian, as ' the best '. Mr. Froude, in his lectures 
 on Erasmus delivered from the Chair of History at 
 Oxford, speaks as if the story were the result of 
 a Volksetymologie, a myth invented to explain the 
 name ' Erasmus ' (the right form of the word is 
 ' Erasmius ') : ' Legend says that Erasmus was what is 
 called a love-child.' Mr. Froude then gives a summary 
 of the tale as told by Charles Reade. ' It grew up out 
 of tradition when Erasmus had become famous, and 
 his enemies liked to throw a slur upon his parentage. 
 It is perhaps a lie altogether, perhaps only partly a 
 lie. The difficulty is that Erasmus says distinctly 
 that he was a second child, and had a brother three 
 years older than himself.' Where, in what part of 
 his works, Erasmus tells us these facts, Mr. Froude 
 does not say. Now I have a craving for exact refer- 
 ences. ' There is no suggestion of any previous 
 marriage ' (of either of Erasmus's parents) ' with 
 another person. The connexion of his father and 
 mother must therefore have been of long continuance. 
 Erasmus's own letters are the only trustworthy 
 authority for his early life.' 
 
 Thus Mr. Froude rejects an autobiography attri- 
 buted to Erasmus, and said to have been entrusted by 
 him to Conrad Goclenius, a friend and a scholar.
 
 INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 An autobiography may be as musty as you please, but 
 an autobiography is not ' a musty chronicle ', such 
 as Reade declares to be his source. 
 
 I now turned to John Jortin's Erasmus, a book of 
 1758. An historian of 1758, 1 thought, will not be too 
 high and mighty to give authorities for his statements. 
 Jortin gave plenty, but not one of them, in this part 
 of his book, was either a musty chronicle or an 
 autobiography by Erasmus himself, or a document or 
 MS. contemporary with Erasmus. Jortin did refer, 
 but not for the story as told by Reade, to ' Compend. 
 Vit. Erasmi. He wrote this Compendium himself'. 
 
 If he did, Mr. Froude was manifestly unaware of, 
 or was incredulous of the fact. For the story of the 
 loves of Gerard and Margaret, which Jortin tells as 
 Reade does, but with the unhappy denouement, Jortin 
 referred to Bayle, — and how did Bayle get at the 
 deplorable facts ? 
 
 This bewildered inquirer, wearied out by the total 
 absence of references in Reade, Froude, and Jortin, 
 turned to Bayle. Now Bayle says that the story of 
 Gerard and Margaret comes from ' a so-called ' Life 
 of Erasmus by Erasmus, a Life ' wTetchedly written '. 
 Erasmus did not write wretchedly, to do so was not 
 his foible, and if he Avrote in Latin, it was necessarily 
 better than the ' tolerable Latin ' of Reade 's ' musty ' 
 (and anonymous) ' chronicle '. Moreover, Bayle names 
 the mother of Erasmus ' Ehzabeth ', not Margaret 
 (just as one document of Erasmus's time calls his 
 father not Gerard but Roger !) The manuscript of
 
 viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 the Life, entrusted, says Bayle, to Conrad Goclenius, 
 was not published till 1607. I took leave, \sdth 
 Mr. Froude, to doubt every word of the story in this 
 Compend. Vit. Erasmi. I did not feel so sure as the 
 Encyclopaedia Britannica, that Erasmus was illegiti- 
 mate. But the story, as given by Reade, and in 
 the Compend. Vit., does not seem to me to come, as 
 Mr. Froude says, from the enemies of Erasmus ; rather 
 the reverse. 
 
 The story, on the other side, seems to be a palhation 
 of a tale that Erasmus was ' a priest's geat '. Gerard 
 became a priest, says the tale, on false information 
 of Margaret's death, after he was the father of 
 Erasmus. 
 
 There was nothing unusual (in Scotland at least) in 
 priestly concubinage, and if Erasmus had, as he says, 
 an elder brother, that does not necessarily prove that 
 his father and mother were married people. It does 
 disprove the romantic story, if it be true, but we have 
 no evidence at all. Yet, surely, had the story of the 
 illegitimacy of Erasmus — be his father priest or lay- 
 man — been true, or even alleged to be true, it would 
 appear in the writings of his enemies during his life- 
 time. They were — every pole mist then was — capable 
 of inventing the story, yet it is not quoted from any 
 contemporary. 
 
 Thus Reade, as far as I see, need not have been 
 uneasy about the deviation from historical truth in the 
 happy ending of A Good Fight. There is no historj' to 
 be deviated from ; and a happy ending is worth much
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 ^ Cand costs nothing. Meanwhile, one fact is certain. 
 If Erasmus had an elder brother, as he alleges, the 
 circumstance may be explained in a variety of ways, 
 according to the taste and fancy of him who explains. 
 But it is absolutely impossible that, if Erasmus were 
 right in his behef that he had an elder brother — or 
 any brother ; even a brother by the half blood — any 
 form of the myth on which either the Cloister and 
 the Hearth, or A Good Fight, is based, should be his- 
 torically true. For, if the brother were the elder, 
 whether he was the son of Gerard by Margaret, or of 
 Margaret by somebody else, the story is untrue. If 
 he were the son of Gerard, whether by Margaret or 
 another, the story is untrue. If the brother (contrary to 
 the statement of Erasmus) were the junior — whether 
 he were the son of Gerard and Margaret, or of one 
 or the other of the pair — the story, on the hues 
 of The Cloister and the Hearth, is untrue. It could 
 only be true on the hnes (given Gerard as the father) 
 of A Good Fight, and Reade declared these hnes to be 
 of his own invention. 
 
 As Reade quotes his ' musty chronicle ', 'where every 
 sentence holds a fact,' for both of his contradictory 
 versions, we must regretfully admit that his accuracy 
 as a logician and an historian leaves much to be desired. 
 To a Homeric critic of the fashionable school, all this 
 would only prove that the author of A Good Fight and 
 of The Cloister and the Hearth, were, in fact, not one 
 . author, but two or more authors. On the other hand, 
 all the external evidence demonstrates that both books
 
 X INTRODUCTION 
 
 were by one author, Charles Reade, Fellow of Mag- 
 dalen College, in the University of Oxford. 
 
 I had arrived at these conclusions — neither Reade's 
 version of the story in A Good Fight, nor his version 
 in The Cloister and the Hearth can be true ; when 
 a fortunate accident brought me acquainted with 
 a truly scholarly and trustworthy work concerning 
 Erasmus, Mr. Allen's Opus Epistolarum Des. Erasmi, 
 published by the Clarendon Press. Mr. Allen (Vol. I, 
 Appendix 1, pp. 575-8) accepts the Compendium 
 as a genuine work of Erasmus. If so, Erasmus sup- 
 presses his elder brother, Peter, ' a suppression which is 
 the more pardonable, since by so doing he could place 
 the relations of his parents in a better light : ' namely, 
 in the light which shines on them in The Cloister and 
 the Hearth. But Peter cannot be suppressed : and the 
 fraud of Erasmus, if we accept his authorship of the 
 Compendium, is pious, indeed, perhaps, pardonable, 
 but not prosperous. Whether his father, Gerard, 
 became a priest, when he heard the false news of his 
 Margaret's death, or not, he certainly did not cease 
 to be her lover, for by her, after the birth of Peter, 
 he became the father of her celebrated son, Erasmus. 
 From a letter of Erasmus to Rome, it appears that his 
 birth really was not legitimate, and that he therefore 
 needed dispensations for certain purposes. Without 
 papal dispensation he could not hold a benefice, if he 
 got one, supposing his birth to be illegitimate. Now 
 in 1505 he hoped to get a benefice in England. He 
 applied to Rome for a dispensation, and from the
 
 INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 reply (Rome, January 4, 1506, N. S.) he had described 
 himself as the son of a bachelor, a laic, and of a widow. 
 If this were true, who was the father of his elder 
 brother, Peter ? Peter is named ' Peter Gerardson ' ; if 
 he be correctly so called, had the bachelor two sons by 
 the widow, Margaret, or had Peter some other mother ? 
 The affair is too ramified for me, and was too 
 ramified for Erasmus. He appears to have been 
 utterly puzzled. He received another dispensation in 
 1517, and in that he is said ' to be born of an unlawful, 
 and, as he is apt to fear, of a condemned and unholy 
 union ' [ex illicito et, ut timet, incesto damnatoque coitu 
 genitus). This description, says Mr. Allen, ' suggests 
 that he may in the interval ' (1505-17) ' have learned 
 more about the circumstances of his birth ; while, 
 as Vischer notes, it also implies some uncertainty re- 
 maining in his mind as to the date when his father 
 took orders ' {English Historical Review, January 1910, 
 
 pp. 123-5). 
 
 By 1524, when Erasmus wrote the Compendium 
 Vitae Suae, he had made up his mind how he would 
 arrange the story : he dropped Peter, he dropped 
 the widow, and he provided Reade with a plot. All 
 this follows, if Erasmus wrote the Compendium. 
 
 This conclusion is not universally accepted, but on 
 the evidence given by Mr. Allen I am constrained to 
 accept the Compendium as an authentic, though not 
 quite veracious sketch of the early hfe of Erasmus by 
 himself, despite the casual Latinity. 
 
 However, all these considerations are beside the
 
 xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 mark, for the real question is, What are the human and 
 literary merits of A Good Fight ? That question must 
 be answered by the reader, from whom, if he does not 
 care for the tale, I must take the liberty of dissenting. 
 To adopt the prescientific critical method of Thackeray, 
 Amo Giles, amo Margaret, amo Martin (especially 
 Martin), amo the wdfe of Gerard's father, amo Phihp 
 of Burgundy, called ' the Good ', despite his attitude 
 to Jeanne d'Arc, which is not before the Court. Am/) 
 Sybrandt, Cornehs, and even little Kate, an ancestress 
 obviously, of Dickens's Little Nell (though, humanly 
 speaking, this is impossible). 
 
 Enfin, here we have a vigorous story of human 
 action and passion, told with all the vivacity, and 
 rich in the personal peculiarities of the author. The 
 manner is frankly modern ; there are no ' tusheries ' 
 (as R. L. Stevenson called them) ; there is no Wardour 
 Street Enghsh. The love scenes are movingly sym- 
 pathetic. The adventures succeed each other with 
 breathless rapidity, though this is not a mere novel of 
 adventures, but a novel of character and of historical 
 surroundings.
 
 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES READE 
 
 1859
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Not a day passes over the earth but men and women 
 of no note do great deeds, speak great words, and 
 suffer noble sorrows. Of these obscure heroes, philo- 
 sophers, and martyrs, the greater part will never be 
 known till that day, when many that are great shall 
 be small, and the small great : but of others the world's 
 knowledge may be said to sleep. Their lives and 
 characters lie hidden from nations in the very annals 
 that record them. The general reader cannot feel 
 them, they are presented so curtly and coldly : they 
 are not like breathing stories appealing to his heart, 
 but little historic hailstones striking him only to 
 glance off his bosom : nor can he understand them ; 
 for epitomes are not narratives, as skeletons are not 
 human figures. 
 
 Thus records of prime truths sometimes remain 
 a dead letter to plain folk ; the writers have left so 
 much to the imagination, and imagination is so rare 
 a gift. Here, then, the writer of fiction may be of use 
 to the public — as an interpreter. 
 
 There is a musty chronicle, written in tolerable 
 Latin, and in it a chapter where every sentence holds 
 a fact. Here is told, with harsh brevity, the strange 
 history of a pair, who lived untrumpeted, and died 
 unsung, four hundred years ago ; and he now, as 
 unpitied, in that stern page, as fossils in a rock. Thus, 
 living or dead, fate is still unjust to them. Yet if I can 
 but show you what is involved in that dry chronicler's 
 
 B 2
 
 4 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 words, methinks you will correct the indifference of 
 centuries, and give those two sore-tried souls a place 
 in your heart — for a few weeks. 
 
 It was past the middle of the fifteenth century, 
 Louis XI was sovereign of France ; Edward IV was 
 wrongful King of England ; and Philip ' the Good ', 
 having by force and cunning dispossessed his cousin 
 Jacqueline, and broken her heart, reigned undisturbed 
 this many years in Holland, where our tale begins. 
 
 Gerard, and Catherine his wife, lived in the little 
 town of Tergou. He traded, wholesale and retail, in 
 cloth, silk, brown holland, and, above all, in curried 
 leather, a material highly valued by the middling 
 people, because it would stand twenty years' wear, 
 and turn a knife if not fresh sharpened ; no small 
 virtue in a jerkin of that century, in which folk were 
 so liberal of their steel : even at dinner a man would 
 leave his meat awhile, and carve you his neighbour, 
 on a very moderate difference of opinion. 
 
 The couple were well to do, and would have been 
 free from all earthly care, but for nine children. When 
 these were coming into the world, one per annum, 
 each was hailed with rejoicings, and the saints were 
 thanked, not expostulated with ; and when parents 
 and children were all young together, the latter were 
 looked upon as lovely little playthings invented by 
 Heaven for the amusement, joy, and evening solace, 
 of people in business. 
 
 But as the olive branches shot up, and the parents 
 grew older, and saw with their own eyes the fate of 
 large families, misgivings and care mingled with their 
 love. They belonged to a singularly wise and provi- 
 dent people : in Holland reckless parents were as rare 
 as disobedient children. So now when the huge loaf 
 came in on a gigantic trencher, looking like a fortress
 
 CHAPTER I 5 
 
 in its moat, and, the tour of the table once made, 
 seemed to have melted away, Gerard and Catherine 
 would look at one another and say, ' Who is to find 
 bread for them all when we are gone '! ' 
 
 At this observation the younger ones needed all 
 their filial respect, to keep their little Dutch counte- 
 nances ; for in thek humble opinion dinner and supper 
 came by nature like sunrise and sunset, and, so long 
 as that luminary should travel round the earth, so 
 long must the brown loaf go round their family circle, 
 and set in their stomachs only to rise again in the 
 family oven. But the remark awakened the national 
 thoughtfulness of the elder boys, and being often 
 repeated set several of the family thinking, some of 
 them good thoughts, some ill thoughts, according to 
 the nature of the thinkers. 
 
 ' Kate, the children grow so, this table \\ ill soon be 
 too small.' 
 
 ' We cannot afford it, Gerard,' replied Catherine, 
 answering not his words, but his thought, after the 
 manner of women. 
 
 Their anxiety for the future took at times a less 
 dismal but more mortifying turn. The free burghers 
 had their pride as well as the nobles ; and these two 
 could not bear that any of their blood should go 
 down in the burgh after their decease. 
 
 So by prudence and self-denial they managed to 
 clothe all the little bodies, and feed all the great 
 mouths, and yet put by a small hoard to meet the 
 future ; and, as it grew, and grew, they felt a pleasure 
 the miser hoarding for himself knows not. 
 
 One day the eldest boy but one, aged nineteen, 
 came to his mother, and, with that outward com- 
 posure which has so misled some persons as to the 
 real nature of this people, begged her to intercede 
 with his father to send him to Amsterdam, and
 
 6 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 place him with a mercliant. ' It is the way of life 
 that likes me : merchants are wealthy ; I am 
 good at numbers ; prithee, good mother, take my 
 part in this, and I shall ever be, as I am now, j'^our 
 debtor.' 
 
 Catherine threw up her hands with dismay and 
 incredulity. ' What, leave Tergou ! ' 
 
 ' What is one street to me more than another ? 
 If I can leave the folk of Tergou, I can surely leave 
 the stones.' 
 
 ' What ! abandon your poor father now he is no 
 longer young ? ' 
 
 ' Mother, if I can leave you, I can leave him.' 
 
 ' What, leave your poor brothers and sisters, that 
 love you so dear ? ' 
 
 ' There are enough in the house without me.' 
 
 ' What mean you, Richart ? Wlio is more thought 
 of than you ? Stay, have I spoken sharp to you ? 
 Have I been unkind to you ? ' 
 
 ' Never that I know of ; and if you had, you should 
 never hear of it from me. Mother,' said Richart 
 gravely, but the tear was in his eye, ' it all lies in 
 a word. And nothing can change my mind. There 
 will be one mouth less for you to feed.' 
 
 ' There now, see what my tongue has done,' said 
 Catherine, and the next moment she began to cry. 
 For she saw her first young bird on the edge of the 
 nest trying his wings, to fly into the world. Richart 
 had a calm, strong will, and she knew he never wasted 
 a word. 
 
 It ended as nature has willed all such discourse 
 shall end : young Richart went to Amsterdam with 
 a face so long and sad as it had never been seen 
 before, and a heart like granite. 
 
 That afternoon at supper there was one mouth less. 
 Catherine looked at Richart's chair and wept bitterly.
 
 CHAPTER I 7 
 
 On this Gerard shouted rouglily and angrily to tlie 
 children, ' Sit wider ! can't ye : sit wider ! ' and 
 turned his head away over the back of his seat awhile, 
 and was silent. 
 
 Richart was launched ; and never cost them 
 another penny : but to fit him out and place him in 
 the house of Vander Stegen the merchant took all the 
 little hoard but one gold crown. They began again. 
 Two years passed. Richart found a niche in com- 
 merce for his brother Jacob, and Jacob left Tergou 
 directly after dinner, which was at eleven in the 
 forenoon. At supper that day Gerard remembered 
 what had happened the last time ; so he said in a low 
 whisper, ' Sit wider, dears ! ' Now until tliat moment 
 Catherine would not see the gap at table, for her 
 daughter Catherine had besought her not to grieve 
 to-night and she had said, ' No, sweetheart, I promise 
 I will not, since it vexes my children.' But when 
 Gerard whispered ' Sit wider ! ' says she, ' Aye ! the 
 table will soon be too big for the children : and you 
 thought it would be too small : ' and having delivered 
 this with forced calmness, she put up her apron the 
 next moment, and wept sore. 
 
 ' 'Tis the best that leave us,' sobbed she, ' that is 
 the cruel part.' 
 
 ' Nay ! nay ! ' said Gerard, ' our children are good 
 children, and all are dear to us alike. Heed her not ! 
 What God takes from us still seems better than what 
 He spares to us : that is to say, men are by nature 
 unthankful — and women silly.' 
 
 ' And I say Richart and Jacob were the flower of 
 the flock,' sobbed Catherine. 
 
 The little coffer was empty again, and to fill it they 
 gathered like ants. In those days speculation was 
 pretty much confined to the card-and-dice business. 
 Gerard knew no wav to wealth but the slow and sure
 
 8 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 one. ' A penny saved is a penny gained,' Avas his 
 humble creed. All that was not required for the 
 business, and the necessaries of life, went into the 
 little coffer \\'itli steel bands and florid key. They 
 denied themselves in turn the humblest luxuries, and 
 then, catching one another's looks, smiled ; perhaps 
 with a greater joy than self-indulgence has to bestow. 
 And so in three years more they had gleaned enough 
 to set up their fourth son as a master tailor, and their 
 eldest daughter as a robe-maker, in Tergou. Here 
 were two more provided for : their own trade would 
 enable them to throw work into the hands of this pair. 
 But the coffer was drained to the dregs, and this time 
 the shop too bled a little in goods if not in coin. 
 
 Alas ! there remained on hand two that were 
 unable to get their bread, and two that were unwilling. 
 The unable ones were, 1 , Giles, a dwarf, of the -wTong 
 sort, half stupidity, half malice, all head and claws 
 and voice, run from by dogs and unprejudiced females, 
 and sided with through thick and thin by his mother ; 
 2, Little Catherine, a poor girl that could only move 
 on crutches. She lived in pain, but smiled through it, 
 with her marble face and violet eyes and long silky 
 lashes : and fretful or repining word never came from 
 her lips. The unwilling ones were Sybrandt, the 
 3''oungest, a ne'er-do-Aveel, too much in love with play 
 to work, and Cornells, the eldest, who had made 
 calculations of his own, and stuck to the hearth, 
 waiting for dead men's shoes. Almost worn out by 
 their repeated efforts, and above all dispirited by the 
 moral and physical infirmities of those that now 
 remained on hand, the anxious couple would often 
 say, ' What will become of all these when we shall be 
 no longer here to take care of them ? ' But when they 
 had said this a good many times, suddenly the 
 domestic horizon cleared, and then they used still to
 
 CHAPTER I 9 
 
 say it, because a habit is a habit, but they uttered it 
 half mechanically now instead of despondently, and 
 added brightly and cheerfully, ' but thanks to St. 
 Bavon and all the saints, there 's Gerard ! ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Young Gerard was for many years of his life a son 
 apart and distinct ; object of no fears and no great 
 hopes. No fears ; for he was going into the Church ; 
 and the Church could always maintain her children 
 by hook or by crook in those days : no great hopes, 
 because his family had no interest with the great to 
 get him a benefice, and the young man's own habits 
 were frivolous, and, indeed, such as our cloth merchant 
 would not have put up with in any one but a clerk 
 that was to be. His t^^'o main trivialities were reading 
 and penmanship, and he was so wrapt up in them 
 that often he could hardly be got away to his meals. 
 The day was never long enough for him : and he 
 carried ever a tinder-box and brimstone matches, and 
 begged ends of candles of the neighbours, which he 
 lighted at unreasonable hours — aye, even at eight 
 of the clock at night in winter, when the very Burgo- 
 master was a-bed. Endured at home, his practices 
 were encouraged by the monks of a neighbouring 
 convent. They had taught him penmanship, and 
 continued to teach him, until one day they discovered, 
 in the middle of a lesson, that he was teaching them. 
 They pointed this out to him in a merry way : he 
 hung his head and blushed : he had suspected as 
 much himself, but mistrusted his judgment in that 
 matter. ' But, my son,' said an elderly monk, ' how- 
 is it that you, to whom God has given an eye so true, 
 a hand so supple yet firm, and a love of these beautiful
 
 10 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 crafts, how is it you do not colour as well as Avrite ? 
 a scroll looks but barren unless a border of fruit, and 
 leaves, and rich arabesques surround the good words, 
 and charm the sense as those do the soul and under- 
 standing ; to say nothing of the pictures of holy men 
 and women departed, with which the several chapters 
 should be adorned, and not alone the eye soothed 
 with the brave and sweetly blended colours, but the 
 heart lifted by effigies of the saints in glory. Answer 
 me, my son.' 
 
 At this Gerard wa,s confused, and muttered that 
 he had made several trials at illuminating, but had 
 not succeeded well ; and thus the matter rested. 
 
 Soon after this a fellow enthusiast came on the 
 scene in the unwonted form of an old lady. Margaret, 
 sister and survivor of the brothers Van Eyck, left 
 Flanders, and came to end her days in her native 
 country. She bought a small house near Tergou. 
 In course of time she heard of Gerard, and saw some 
 of his handiwork : it pleased her so well that she 
 sent her female servant, Riclit Heynes, to ask him 
 to come to her. This led to an acquaintance : it 
 could hardly be otherwise, for little Tergou had never 
 held so many as two zealots of this sort before. At 
 first the old lady damped Gerard's courage terribly. 
 At each visit she pulled out of holes and corners 
 drawings and paintings, some of them by her own 
 hand, that seemed to him unapproachable : but if 
 the artist overpowered him, the woman kept his heart 
 up. She and Richt soon turned him inside out like 
 a glove. Among other things, they drew from him 
 what the good monks had failed to liit upon, the 
 reason why he did not illuminate, viz. that he could 
 not afford the gold, the blue, and the red, but only 
 the cheap earths ; and that he was afraid to ask his 
 mother to buy the choice colours, and Mas sure he
 
 CHAPTER II 11 
 
 should ask her in vam. Then Margaret Van Eyck 
 gave him a little brush-gold, and some vermilion, and 
 ultramarine, and a piece of good vellum to lay them 
 on. He almost adored iier. As he left the house 
 Richt ran after him with a candle and two quarters : 
 he quite kissed her. But better even than the gold 
 and lapis lazuli to the illuminator was the sympathy 
 to the isolated enthusiast. That sympathy was always 
 ready, and, as he returned it, an affection sprung up 
 between the old painter and the young caligrapher 
 that was doubly characteristic of the time. For this 
 was a century in which the fine arts and the higher 
 mechanical arts were not separated by any distinct 
 boundary, nor were those who practised them : and 
 it was an age in which artists sought out and loved 
 one another. Should this last statement stagger a 
 painter or writer of our day, let me remind him that 
 Christians loved one another at first starting. 
 
 Backed by an acquaintance so venerable, and 
 strengthened by female sympathy, Gerard advanced 
 in learning and skill. His spirits, too, rose visibly : 
 he still looked behind him when dragged to dinner in 
 the middle of an initial G ; but once seated showed 
 great social qualities : likewise a gay humour, that 
 had hitherto but peeped in him, shone out, and often 
 he set the table in a roar, and kept it there, sometimes 
 with his own wit, sometimes with jests which were 
 glossy new to his family, being drawn from antiquity. 
 
 As a return for all he owed his friends the monks, 
 he made them exquisite copies from two of then* 
 choicest MSS., viz. the life of their founder, and their 
 Comedies of Terence, the monastery finding the 
 vellum. 
 
 The high and puissant Prince, Philip ' the Good ', 
 Duke of Burgundy, Luxemburg, and Brabant, Earl
 
 12 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 of Holland and Zealand, Lord of Friesland, Count of 
 Flanders, Ai'tois, and Hainault, Lord of Salins and 
 Macklyn — Avas versatile. 
 
 He could fight as well as any king going ; and he 
 could lie as well as any except the King of France. 
 He was a mighty hunter, and could read and write. 
 His tastes were wide and ardent. He loved jewels 
 like a woman, and gorgeous apparel. He dearly loved 
 maids of honour, and paintings generally ; in proof 
 of which he ennobled Jan Van Eyck. He had also 
 a particular fancy for giants, dwarfs, and Turks ; these 
 last he had ever about him, turbaned, and blazing 
 with jewels. His agents inveigled them from Istam- 
 boul with fair j)romises : but the moment he had 
 got them he baptized them by brute force in a large 
 tub ; and, this done, let them squat witli their faces 
 towards Mecca, and invoke Mahound as much as 
 they pleased, laughing in his sleeve at their simplicity 
 in fancying they were still infidels. He had lions in 
 cages, and fleet leopards trained by orientals to run 
 down hares and deer. In short, he relished all rarities, 
 except humdrum virtues. For anything singularly 
 pretty, or diabolically ugly, this was your customer. 
 The best of him was, he was open-handed to the poor ; 
 and the next best was, he fostered the arts in earnest : 
 whereof he now gave a signal proof. He offered prizes 
 for the best specimens of ' orfevrerie ' in two kinds, 
 religious and secular ; item for the best paintings in 
 white of egg, oils, and tempera ; these to be on panel, 
 silk, or metal as the artists chose : item for the best 
 transparent painting on glass : item for the best 
 illuminating and border-painting on vellum : item 
 for the fairest writing on vellum. The Burgomasters 
 of the several towns were commanded to aid all the 
 poorer competitors by receiving their specimens and 
 sending them ^ith due care to Rotterdam at the
 
 CHAPTER II 13 
 
 expense of their several burghs. When this was cried 
 by the bellman through the streets of Tergou, a 
 thousand mouths opened, and one heart beat — 
 Gerard's. He told his family he should try for two 
 of those prizes.- They stared in silence, for their breath 
 was gone at his conceit and audacity : but one horrid 
 laugh exploded on the floor like a petard. Gerard 
 looked down, and there was the dwarf, whose very 
 whisper was a bassoon, slit and fanged from ear to ear 
 at his expense, and laughing like a lion. Nature 
 relenting at having made Giles so small, had given 
 him as a set-off the biggest voice on record. He was 
 like those stunted wide-mouthed pieces of ordnance 
 we see on fortifications ; they are more like a flower- 
 pot than a cannon ; but ods tympana how they 
 bellow ! 
 
 Gerard turned red with anger, the more so as the 
 others began to titter. White Catherine saw, and 
 a pink tinge just perceptible came to her cheek. She 
 said softly, ' Why do you laugh ? Is it because he is 
 our brother you think he cannot be capable. Yes, 
 Gerard, try with the rest. Many say you are skilful ; 
 and mother and I Anil pray the Virgin to guide your 
 hand.' 
 
 ' Thank you, little Kate. You shall pray to our 
 Lady, and our mother shall buy vellum and the 
 colours to illuminate with.' 
 
 ' \Miat will they cost ? 
 
 ' Two gold crowns ' (about three shillings and 
 fourpence English money). 
 
 ' What ? ' screamed the housewife ; ' when the 
 bushel of rye costs but a groat ! What ! me spend 
 a month's meal and meat and fire on such vanity as 
 that : tlie lightning from Heaven would fall on me, 
 and my children would all be beggars.' 
 
 ' Mother ! ' sighed little Catherine, imploringly.
 
 14 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Oh ! it is in vain, Kate,' said Gerard, with a sigh. 
 ' I shall have to give it up, or ask the dame Van Eyek. 
 She would give it me, but I think shame to be for ever 
 taking from her.' 
 
 ' It is not her affair,' said Catherine, very sharply ; 
 ' what has she to do coming between me and my son ? ' 
 And she left the room with a red face. -Little Catherine 
 smiled. Presently the housewife returned with a 
 gracious, affectionate air, and the two little gold 
 pieces in her hand. 
 
 ' There, sweetheart,' said she, ' you won't have to 
 trouble dame or demoiselle for two paltry crowns.' 
 
 But on this Gerard fell a thinking how he could 
 spare her purse. 
 
 ' One will do, mother. I will ask the good monks 
 to let me send my copy of their " Terence " : it is on 
 snowy vellum, and I can write no better : so then 
 I shall only need six sheets of vellum for my borders 
 and miniatures, and gold for my ground, and prime 
 colours — one crown will do.' 
 
 ' Never spoil the ship for want of a bit of tar, 
 Gerard,' said this changeable mother. But she added, 
 ' Well, there, I will put the crown in my pocket. That 
 won't be like putting it back in the box. Going to the 
 box to take out instead of putting in — it is like going 
 to my heart with a knife for so many drops of blood. 
 You will be sure to want it, Gerard. The house is 
 never built for less than the builder counted on.' 
 
 Sure enough, when the time came, Gerard longed 
 to go to Rotterdam and see the Duke, and above all 
 to see the work of his competitors, and so get a lesson 
 from defeat. And the crown came out of the house- 
 wife's pocket with a very good grace. Gerard would 
 soon be a priest. It seemed hard if he might not 
 enjoy tlie world a little before separating himself 
 from it for life.
 
 CHAPTER II 15 
 
 The day before he went, Margaret Van Eyck asked 
 him to take a letter for her, and when he came to look 
 at it, somewhat to his surprise he found it was 
 addressed to the Princess Marie, at the Stadthouse, 
 in Rotterdam. ^ 
 
 The day before the prizes were to be distributed, 
 Gerard started for Rotterdam thus equipped ; he 
 had a doublet of silver-grey cloth with sleeves, and 
 a jerkin of the same over it, but without sleeves. 
 From his waist to his heels he was clad in a pair of 
 tight-fitting buckskin hose fastened by laces (called 
 points) to his doublet. His shoes were pointed, in 
 moderation, and secured by a strap that passed under 
 the hollow of the foot. On his head and the back of 
 his neck he wore his flowing hair, and pinned to his 
 back between his shoulders was his hat : it was 
 further secured by a purple silk ribbon little Kate 
 had passed round him from the sides of the hat, and 
 knotted neatly on his breast ; below his hat, attached 
 to the upper rim of his broad waist belt, was his 
 leathern wallet. When he got within a league of 
 Rotterdam he was pretty tired, but he soon fell in 
 with a pair that were more so. He found an old man 
 sitting by the roadside quite worn out, and a comely 
 young woman holding his hand, with a face full of 
 concern. The country people trudged by and noticed 
 nothing amiss : but Gerard, as he passed, drew con- 
 clusions. Even dress tells a tale to those who study 
 it so closely as our illuminator was wont to. The old 
 man wore a gown, and a fur tippet, and a velvet cap, 
 sure signs of dignity : but the triangular purse at 
 his girdle was lean, the gown rusty, the fur worn, 
 sure signs of poverty. The young woman was dressed 
 in plain russet cloth : yet snow-white lawn covered 
 that part of her neck the gown left visible, and ended 
 half way up her white throat in a little band of gold
 
 16 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 embroidery : and her head-dress was new to Gerard ; 
 instead of hiding her hair in a pile of linen or lawn, 
 she wore an open network of silver cord with silver 
 spangles at the interstices : in this her glossy auburn 
 hair was rolled in front into a solid wave, and supported 
 behind in a luxurious and shapely mass. His quick 
 eye took in all this, and the old man's deadly pallor, 
 and tlie tears in the young woman's eyes. So when 
 he had passed them a few yards, he reflected, and 
 turned back, and came towards them bashfully. 
 
 ' Father, I fear you are tired.' 
 
 ' Indeed, my son, I am,' replied the old man ; ' and 
 faint for lack of food.' 
 
 Gerard's address did not appear so agreeable to the 
 girl as to the old man. She seemed ashamed, and with 
 much reserve in her manner said, that it was her fault ; 
 she had underrated the distance, and imprudently 
 allowed her father to start too late in the day. 
 
 ' No ! no ! ' said the old man ; ' it is not the 
 distance, it is the want of nourishment.' 
 
 The girl put her arms round his neck, with tender 
 concern, but took that opportunity of whispering, 
 ' Father, a stranger — a young man ! ' 
 
 But it was too late. Gerard, with great simplicity, 
 and quite as a matter of course, fell to gathering sticks 
 with great expedition. This done, he took down his 
 wallet, out with the manchet of bread and the iron 
 flask his careful mother had put up, and his everlasting 
 tinder-box ; lighted a match, then a candle end, then 
 the sticks ; and put his iron flask on it. Then down 
 he went on his stomach and took a good blow : then 
 looking up, he saw the girl's face had thawed, and 
 she was looking down at him and his energy with 
 a demure smile. He laughed back to her : ' Mind the 
 pot,' said he, ' and don't let it spill, for Heaven's sake : 
 there 's a cleft stick to hold it safe with ; ' and with
 
 CHAPTER II 17 
 
 this he set off ruimmg towards a cornfield at some 
 distance. Whilst he was gone, there came by, on 
 a mule with rich purple housings, an old man redolent 
 with wealth. The purse at his girdle was plethoric, 
 the fur on his tippet was ermine, broad and new. 
 
 It was Ghysbrecht Van Swieten, the Burgomaster 
 of Tergou. He was old, and his face furro\Aed. He 
 was a notorious miser, and looked one generally. But 
 the idea of supping with the Duke raised him just now 
 into manifest complacency. Yet at the sight of the 
 faded old man and his bright daughter sitting by 
 a fire of sticks, the smile died out of his face, and he 
 wore a strange look of anguish and wrath. He reined 
 in his mule. ' Why, Peter, — Margaret — ' said he 
 almost fiercely, ' what mummery is this ! ' Peter was 
 going to answer, but Margaret interjDOsed hastily, 
 and said : ' My father was exhausted, so I am \^arm- 
 ing something to give him strength before we go on.' 
 ' What, reduced to feed by the roadside like the 
 Bohemians,' said Ghysbrecht, and his hand went into 
 his purse : but it did not seem at home there, it 
 fumbled uncertainly, afraid too large a coin might 
 stick to a finger and come out. 
 
 At this moment, who should come bounding up but 
 Gerard. He had two straws in his hand, and he threw 
 himself down by the fire, and relieved Margaret of the 
 cooking part : then suddenly recognizing the Burgo- 
 master, he coloured all over. Ghysbrecht Van Swieten 
 started and glared at him, and took his hand out of 
 his purse. ' Oh,' said he, bitterly, ' I am not wanted : ' 
 and went slowly on, casting a long look of suspicion on 
 Margaret, and hostility on Gerard, that was not very 
 intelligible. However, there was something about it 
 that Margaret could read enough to blush at, and 
 almost toss her head. Gerard only stared with 
 surprise. ' By St. Bavon, I think the old miser 
 
 READE ™. Q
 
 18 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 grudges us three our quart of soup,' said he. When 
 the young man put that interpretation on Ghysbrecht's 
 strange and meaning look, Margaret was greatly 
 relieved, and smiled gaily on the speaker. 
 
 Meantime Ghysbrecht plodded on more wretched 
 in his wealth than these in their povert3^ And the 
 curious thing is that the mule, the purple housings, 
 and one-half the coin in that plethoric purse belonged 
 not to Ghysbrecht Van Swieten, but to that faded old 
 man and that comely girl, who sat by a roadside fire 
 to be fed b}^ a stranger. They did not know this, but 
 Ghysbrecht knew it, and carried in his heart a scorpion 
 of his own begetting. That scorpion is remorse ; the 
 remorse that, not being penitence, is incurable, and 
 ready for fresh misdeeds upon a fresh temptation. 
 
 TAventy years ago, when Ghysbrecht Van S\A"ieten 
 was a hard but honest man, the touchstone oppor- 
 tunity came to him, and he did an act of heartless 
 roguery. It seemed a safe one. It had hitherto proved 
 a safe one, though he had never felt safe. To-day he 
 has seen youth, enterprise, and, above all, knowledge, 
 seated by fair Margaret and her father on terms that 
 look familiar and loving. 
 
 And the fiends are at his ear again. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ' The soup is hot,' said Gerard. 
 
 ' But how are we to swallow it ? ' inquked the 
 senior, despondingly. 
 
 ' Father, the young man has brought us straws.' 
 And Margaret smiled slily. 
 
 ' Aye, aye ! ' said the old man : ' but my poor 
 bones are stiff, and indeed the fire is too hot for a bod}^ 
 to kneel over with these short straws. St. John the 
 Baptist ! but the young man is adroit.'
 
 CHAPTER III 19 
 
 For, while he stated his difficulty, Gerard removed 
 it. He untied in a moment the knot on his breast, 
 took his hat off his back, put three stones into the 
 corner, then, wrapping his hand ki the tail of his 
 jerkin, whipped the flask off the fire, \\edged it in 
 between the stones, and put the hat under the old 
 man's nose with a merry smile. The other tremulously 
 inserted the pipe of rye-straw and sucked. Lo and 
 behold his wan, drawn face was seen to light up more 
 and more, till it quite glowed ; and, as soon as he 
 had drawn a long breath : 
 
 ' Hippocrates and Galen ! ' he cried, ' 'tis a " soupe 
 au vin " — the restorative of restoratives. Blessed be 
 the nation that invented it, and the woman that made 
 it, and the young man who brings it to fainting folk. 
 Have a suck, my gu'l, while I relate to our host the 
 history and virtues of this his sovereign compound. 
 This corroborative, young sir, was unknown to the 
 ancients : we find it neither in then- treatises of 
 medicine, nor in those popular narratives, which 
 reveal many of their remedies, both m chirurgery and 
 medicine proper. Hector, in the Ilias, if my memory 
 does not play me false, ' 
 
 Margaret : ' Alas ! he 's off.' 
 
 ' was invited by one of the ladies in the poeni 
 
 to drink a draught of wme ; but he declined, on the 
 plea that he was just going into battle, and must not 
 take aught to weaken his powers. Now, if the " soupe 
 au vin " had been known in Troy, it is clear that in 
 declining " vinum merum " upon that score, he would 
 have added in the next hexameter, " But a ' soupe 
 au vin ', madam, I will degust, and gratefully." Not 
 only would this have been but common civility — 
 a vhtue no perfect commander is wanting in — but not 
 to have done it would have proved him a shallow and 
 improvident person, quite unfit to be trusted with 
 
 2
 
 20 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 the conduct of a war ; for men going into battle need 
 sustenance and all possible support, as is proved by 
 this — that foolish generals, bringing hungry soldiers 
 to battle with full ones, have been defeated, in all 
 ages, by hiferior numbers. The Romans lost a great 
 battle in the north of Italy to Hannibal the Cartha- 
 ginian, by this neglect alone. Now, this divine elixir 
 gives in one moment force to the limbs and ardour to 
 the spirits ; and taken into Hector's body at the nick 
 of time, would, by the aid of Phoebus, Venus, and the 
 blessed saints, have most likely procured the Greeks 
 a defeat. For, note how faint and weary and heart- 
 sick I was a minute ago ; well, I suck this celestial 
 cordial, and now behold me brave as Achilles and 
 strong as an eagle.' 
 
 ' Oh, father ! now, an eagle ! ' 
 
 ' Girl, I defy thee and all the world. Ready, I say, 
 like a foaming charger, to devour the space between 
 this and Rotterdam, and strong to combat the ills 
 of life, even poverty and old age, which last philo- 
 sophers have called the " summum malum ". Negatur ; 
 unless the man's life has been ill-spent — which, by the 
 by, it generally has. Now for the moderns.' 
 
 ' Father ! dear father ! ' 
 
 ' Fear me not, girl, I will be brief, beyond measure 
 brief. The " soupe au vin " occurs not in modern 
 science ; but this is only one proof more, if proof were 
 needed, that for the last few hundred years physicians 
 liave all been idiots, with their chicken broth and 
 their decoction of gold, whereby they attribute the 
 highest qualities to that meat which has the least 
 juice of any meat, and to that metal which has less 
 chemical qualities than all the metals. Mountebanks ! 
 dunces ! homicides ! Since, then, from these no light 
 is to be gathered, we must go to tlie chroniclers ; and 
 fii'st we find that Duguesclin, a French knight, being
 
 CHAPTER III 21 
 
 about to join battle with the Englisli — masters, at 
 that time, of half France, and sturdy strikers by sea 
 and land— drank, not one, but three, " soupes au vin," 
 in honour of the Blessed Trinity. This done, he 
 charged the islanders ; and, as might have been 
 expected, killed a multitude of them, and drove the 
 rest into the sea. But he Nvas only the first of a long 
 list of holy and hard-hitting ones who have, by this 
 divine restorative, been sustentated, fortified, corro- 
 borated, and consoled.' 
 
 ' Dear father, prithee add thyself to that list before 
 the soup cools.' And Margaret held the hat imploringly 
 in both hands till he inserted the straw once more. 
 
 This spared them the ' modern instances ', and gave 
 Gerard an opportunity of telling Margaret how proud 
 his mother would be her soup had profited a man of 
 learning. 
 
 ' Aye ! but,' said Margaret, ' it would like her ill 
 to see her son give all and take none himself. Why 
 brought you but two straws ? ' 
 
 ' Fair mistress, I hoped you \vould let me put my 
 lips to your straw, there being but two.' 
 
 Margaret smiled, and blushed. ' Never beg that 
 you may command,' said she. ' The straw is not 
 mine — 'tis yours : you cut it in yonder field.' 
 
 ' I cut it, and that made it mine ; but, after that, 
 your lip touched it, and that made it yours.' 
 
 ' Did it ? Then I will lend it you. There — now it 
 is yours again : your lip has touched it.' 
 
 ' No, it belongs to us both now. Let us divide it.' 
 
 ' By all means ; you have a knife.' 
 
 ' No, I will not cut it — that would be unlucky. I'll 
 bite it. There. I shall keep my half : you will burn 
 yours the moment you get home, I doubt.' 
 
 ' You know me not. I waste nothing. It is odds 
 but I make a hairpin of it, or something.'
 
 22 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 This answer dashed tlie novice Gerard instead of 
 provoking him to fresh efforts, and he was silent. 
 And now, the bread and soup being disposed of, the 
 old scholar prepared to continue his journey. Then 
 came a little difficulty : Gerard the adroit could not 
 tie his ribbon again as Catherine had tied it. Margaret, 
 after slily eyeing his efforts for some time, offered to 
 help him ; for at her age girls love to be coy and tender, 
 saucy and gentle, by turns, and she saw she had put 
 him out of countenance but now. Then a fair head, 
 with its stately crown of auburn hair, glossy and 
 glowing tlirough silver, bowed sweetly towards him ; 
 and, while it ravished his eye, two white supple hands 
 played delicately upon the stubborn ribbon, and 
 moulded it with soft and airy touches. Then a 
 heavenly thrill ran through the innocent young man, 
 and vague glimpses of a new world of feeling and senti- 
 ment opened on him. And these new and exquisite 
 sensations Margaret unwittingly prolonged : it is not 
 natural to her sex to hurry aught that pertains to the 
 sacred toilet. Nay, when the taper fingers had at last 
 subjugated the ends of the knot, her mind was not 
 quite easy, till, by a manoeuvre peculiar to the female 
 hand, she had made her palm convex, and so applied 
 it with a gentle pressure to the centre of the knot — 
 a sweet little coaxing hand-kiss, as much as to say, 
 ' NoAV be a good knot, and stay as you are.' The palm- 
 kiss was bestowed on the ribbon, but the wearer's 
 heart leaped to meet it. 
 
 ' There, that is how it was,' said Margaret, and 
 drew back to take one last keen survey of her work ; 
 then, looking up for simple approval of her skill, 
 received full in her eyes a longing gaze of such ardent 
 adoration, as made her lower them quickly and colour 
 all over. An indescribable tremor seized her, and she 
 retreated with downcast lashes and tell-tale cheeks,
 
 CHAPTER III 23 
 
 and took her father's arm on the opposite side. 
 Gerard, blushing at having scared her with his eyes, 
 took the other arm ; and so the two young things went 
 downcast and conscious, and propped the eagle along 
 in silence. 
 
 They entered Rotterdam by the Schiedamze Poort ; 
 and, as Gerard \s'as unacquainted with the town, Peter 
 directed him the way to the Hooch Straet, in which 
 the Stadthouse was. He himself was going with 
 Margaret to his cousin, in the Ooster Waagen Straet ; 
 so almost on entering the gate, their roads lay apart. 
 They bade each other a friendly adieu, and Gerard 
 dived into the great town. A profound, an aching 
 sense of solitude, fell upon him, yet the streets were 
 crowded. Then he lamented too late that, out of 
 delicacy, he had not asked his late companions who 
 they were and where they lived. 
 
 ' Beshrew my sliamefacedness ! ' said he. ' But 
 their words and their breeding were above their means, 
 and something whispered me they would not be 
 known. I shall never see her more. Oh ! weary 
 world, I liate you and your ways. To think I must 
 meet beauty and goodness and learning —three pearls 
 of price — and never see them more ! ' 
 
 Falling into this sad reverie, and letting his body 
 go where it would, he lost his way ; but presently 
 meeting a crowd of persons all moving in one direction, 
 he mingled with them, for he argued they must 
 be making for the Stadthouse. Soon the noisy 
 troop that contained the moody Gerard emerged, 
 not upon the Stadthouse, but upon a large meadow 
 by the side of the Maas ; and then the attraction was 
 at once revealed. Games of all sorts were going on : 
 wrestling, the game of palm, the quintain, legerde- 
 main, archery, tumbling, in which art, I blush to sa}', 
 w omen as well as men performed, to the great delecta-
 
 24 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 tion of the company. There was also a trained bear, 
 which stood on his head, and stood upright and bowed 
 M itli prodigious gravity to his master ; and a hare 
 that beat a drum, and a cock that strutted on little 
 stilts disdainfully. These things made Gerard laugh 
 now and then ; but the gay scene could not really 
 enliven it, for his heart was not in tune with it. So, 
 hearing a young man say to his fellow that the Duke 
 had been in the meadow, but was gone to the Stadt- 
 house to entertain the burgomasters and aldermen 
 and the competitors for the prizes, and their friends, 
 he suddenly remembered he was hungry, and should 
 like to sup with a prince. He left the river-side, and 
 this time he found the Hooch Straet, and it speedily 
 led him to the Stadthouse. But when he got there 
 he was refused, first at one door, then at another, till 
 he came to the great gate of the courtyard. It was 
 kept by soldiers, and superintended by a pompous 
 major-domo, glittering in an embroidered collar and 
 a gold chain of office, and holding a white staff with 
 a gold knob. There was a crowd of persons at the 
 gate endeavouring to soften this official rock. They 
 came up in turn like ripples, and retired to make way 
 for others equally unsuccessful. It cost Gerard 
 a struggle to get near him, and Mhen he got within 
 four heads of the gate, he saw something that made 
 his heart beat : there Avas Peter, with Margaret on his 
 arm, soliciting humbly for entrance. 
 
 ' My cousin the alderman is not at home. They 
 say he is here.' 
 
 ' What is that to me, old man ? ' 
 
 ' If you will not let us pass in to him, at least take 
 this leaf from my tablet to my cousin. See, I have 
 written his name : he will come out to us.' 
 
 ' For what do you take me ? I carry no messages. 
 I keep the gate.'
 
 CHAPTER III 25 
 
 He then bawled, in a stentorian voice, inexorably : 
 
 ' No strangers enter here but the competitors and 
 their companies.' 
 
 ' Come, old man,' cried a voice in the crowd, ' you 
 have gotten your answer ; make way.' 
 
 Margaret turned half round imploringly : 
 
 ' Good people ! we are come from far, and my 
 father is old ; and my cousin has a new servant 
 that knows us not, and would not let us sit in our 
 cousin's house.' 
 
 At this the crowd laughed hoarsely. Margaret 
 shrank as if they had struck her. At that moment 
 a hand grasped hers — such a grasp : it felt like heart 
 meeting heart, or magnet steel. She turned quickly 
 round at it, and it was Gerard. Such a little cry of 
 joy and appeal came from her bosom, and she began 
 to whimper prettily : 
 
 They had hustled her and frightened her for one 
 thing ; and her cousin's thoughtlessness in not even 
 telling his servant they were coming Avas cruel ; and 
 the servant's caution, however wise and faithful to 
 his master, was bitterly mortifying to her father and 
 her. And to her — so mortified, and anxious, and 
 jostled— came suddenly this kind hand and face. 
 ' Hinc illae lacrimae.' 
 
 ' All is well now,' remarked a coarse humorist ; 
 ' she has gotten her sweetheart.' 
 
 ' Haw ! haw ! haw ! ' went the crowd. 
 
 She dropped Gerard's hand directl}-, and turned 
 round, with eyes flashing through her tears : 
 
 ' I have no sweetheart, you rude men. But I am 
 friendless in your boorish town, and this is a friend ; 
 and one who knows, what you know not, how to treat 
 the aged and the weak.' 
 
 The crowd was dead silent. They iiad only been 
 thoughtless, and now felt the rebuke, though severe,
 
 26 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 was just. The silence enabled Gerard to treat with 
 the porter. 
 
 ' I am a competitor, sir.' 
 
 ' What is j^our name ? ' and the man eyed him 
 suspiciously. 
 
 ' Gerard, the son of Gerard.' 
 
 The janitor inspected a slip of parchment he held 
 in his hand : 
 
 ' Gerard Gerardssoen can enter.' 
 
 ' With my company — these two ? ' 
 
 ' Nay ; those are not your company : they came 
 before j'ou.' 
 
 ' W^hat matter ? they are my friends, and without 
 them I go not in.' 
 
 ' Stay without, then.' 
 
 ' That will I not.' 
 
 ' That we will see.' 
 
 ' We will, and speedily.' 
 
 Gerard then raised a voice of astounding volume 
 and power, and shouted, so that the whole street rang : 
 
 ' Ho ! Philip Earl of Holland ! ' 
 
 ' Are you mad ? ' 
 
 ' Here is one of your varlets defies you.' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! ' 
 
 ' And wiij:. not let your guests pass in.' 
 
 ' Hush ! murder ! The Duke 's there ! I'm dead ! ' 
 cried the janitor, quaking. 
 
 Then suddenly trying to overpower Gerard's 
 thunder, he shouted, with all his lungs : 
 
 ' Open the gate, ye knaves ! Way there for 
 Gerard Gerardssoen and his coisipany ! (the fiends 
 go with him !)' 
 
 The gate swung open as by magic. Eight soldiers 
 lowered their pikes half way, and made an arch, under 
 which the victorious three marched in triumphant. 
 The moment they had passed, the j^ikes clashed
 
 28 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 togetlier horizontally to bar the gateway, and all but 
 pinned an abdominal citizen that sought to be of 
 Gerard's company unbidden. 
 
 Once passed the guarded portal, a few steps brought 
 the trio upon a scene of Oriental luxury. The court- 
 yard was laid out in tables loaded with rich meats, 
 and literally piled with gorgeous plate. Guests in 
 rich and various costumes sat beneath a leafy canopy 
 of fresh-cut branches fastened tastefully to golden, 
 silver, and blue silken cords that traversed the area ; 
 and fruits of many hues, including some artificial ones 
 of gold, silver, and wax, hung pendant, or peeped, 
 like fair eyes, among the green leaves of plane-trees 
 and lime-trees. The Duke's minstrels swept their 
 lutes at intervals, and a fountain played red Burgundy 
 in six jets that met and battled in the air. The 
 evening sun darted its fires through those bright and 
 purple wine spouts, making them jets and cascades 
 of molten rubies, then passing on, tinged with the 
 blood of the grape, shed crimson glories here and 
 there on fair faces, snowy beards, velvet, satin, 
 jewelled hilts, glowing gold, gleaming silver, and 
 sparkling glass. Gerard and his friends stood dazzled, 
 spellbound. Presently a whisper buzzed round them, 
 ' Salute the Duke ! Salute the Duke ! ' They looked 
 up, and there on high, under the dais, was their 
 sovereign, bidding them welcome with a kindly wave 
 of the hand. The men bowed low, and Margaret 
 curtseyed with a deep and graceful obeisance. Tlie 
 Duke's hand being up he gave it another turn, and 
 pointed the new comers out to a knot of valets. 
 Instantly seven of his people, with an obedient start, 
 went headlong at our friends, seated them at a table, 
 and put fifteen many-coloured soups before them, in 
 little silver bowls, and as many wines in crystal vases. 
 
 ' Nay, father, do not let us eat until we have thanked
 
 CHAPTER III 29 
 
 our good friend,' said Margaret, now first recovering 
 from all this bustle. 
 
 ' Girl, he is our guardian angel.' 
 
 Gerard put his face into his hands. 
 
 ' Tell me when j^ou have done,' said he, ' and I will 
 reappear and 'have my supper, for I am hungry. 
 I know which of us three is the happiest at meeting 
 again.' 
 
 ' Me ? ' inquired Margaret. 
 
 ' No : guess again.' 
 
 ' Father ? ' 
 
 ' No.' 
 
 ' Then I have no idea which it can be ; ' and she 
 gave a little crow of happiness and gaiety. The soup 
 was tasted, and vanished in a twirl of fourteen hands, 
 and fish came on the table in a dozen forms, with 
 patties of lobster and almonds mixed, and of almonds 
 and cream, and an immense variety of ' brouets ', 
 known to us as ' rissoles '. The next trifle \A'as a wild 
 boar, which smelt divine. Why, then, did Margaret 
 start away from it with two shrieks of dismay, and 
 pinch so good a friend as Gerard ? Because the 
 Duke's ' cuisinier ' had been too clever ; had made 
 this excellent dish too captivating to the sight as well 
 as taste. He had restored to the animal, by elaborate 
 mimicry with burnt sugar and other edible colours, 
 the hau' and bristles he had robbed him of by fire and 
 water. To make him still more enticing, the huge 
 tusks were carefully preserved in the brute's jaw, and 
 gave his mouth that winning smile you may have 
 noticed as a result of tusk in man or beast, and two 
 eyes of coloured sugar glowed in his head. St. Argus ! 
 what eyes ! so bright, so blood-shot, so threatening — 
 they followed a man and his every movement. But, 
 indeed, I need the pencil of my artist associate to 
 make you see the two gilt valets on the opposite
 
 30 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 side of the table putting the monster down before 
 our friends, with a smiling, self-satisfied, benevolent 
 obsequiousness — for this ghastly monster was the 
 flower of all comestibles ; old Peter clasping both 
 hands in pious admiration of it ; Margaret wheeling 
 round with horror-stricken eyes and her hand on 
 Gerard's shoulder, squeaking and pinching ; his face 
 of foolish delight at being pinched, the grizzly brute 
 glaring sulkily on all, and the guests grinning from 
 ear to ear. 
 
 ' What's to do '! ' shouted the Duke, hearing the 
 signals of distress. Seven of his people with a zealous 
 start went headlong and told him. He laughed and 
 said, ' Give her of the beef-stuffing, then, and bring 
 me Sir Boar.' Benevolent monarch ! The beef- 
 stuffing was his own private dish. 
 
 On these grand occasions an ox was roasted whole, 
 and reserved for the poor. But this wise as well as 
 charitable prince had discovered, that whatever 
 venison, hares, lamb, poultry, &c., you skewered into 
 that beef cavern, got cooked to perfection, retaining 
 their own juices and receiving those of the reeking ox. 
 These he called his beef-stuffing, and took delight 
 therein, as did now our trio ; for at his word, seven 
 of his people went headlong, and drove silver tridents 
 into the steaming cave at random, and speared a kid, 
 a cygnet, and a flock of wild fowl. These presently 
 smoked before Gerard and company ; and Peter's 
 face, profoundly sad and slightly morose at the loss 
 of the savage hog, expanded and slione. After this, 
 twenty different tarts of fruits and herbs, and last of 
 all, confectionery on a Titanic scale — cathedrals of 
 sugar, all gilt and painted in the interstices of the 
 bas-reliefs ; castles with their moats, and ditches, 
 imitated to the life ; elephants, camels, toads ; 
 knights on horseback jousting ; kings and princesses
 
 CHAPTER III 31 
 
 looking on ; trumpeters blowing ; and all these 
 characters delicious eating, and their veins filled with 
 sweet-scented juices — works of art made to be 
 destroyed. The guests breached a bastion, crunched 
 a crusader and his horse and lance, or cracked a 
 bishop, cope, chasuble, crosier and all, as remorse- 
 lessly as we do a carraway comfit ; sipping, mean- 
 while, hippocras and other spiced drinks, and Greek 
 and Corsican wines, while every now and then little 
 Turkish boys, turbaned, spangled, jewelled, and gilt, 
 came offering on bended knee golden troughs of rose- 
 water and orange-water to keep the guests' hands 
 cool and perfumed. 
 
 But long before our party arrived at this final stage, 
 appetite had succumbed, and one or two circumstances 
 had occurred apparently trifling. Gerard had sud- 
 denly remembered he was the bearer of a letter to the 
 Princess Marie, and, in an undertone, had asked one 
 of the servants if he would undertake to deliver it. 
 The man took it with a deep obeisance : ' He could 
 not deliver it himself, but would instantly give it to one 
 of the princess's suite, several of whom were about.' 
 
 It may be remembered that Peter and Margaret 
 came here not to dine, but to find their cousin. Well, 
 the old gentleman ate heartily, and being much 
 fatigued dropped asleep, and forgot all about his 
 cousin. Margaret did not remind him ; we shall hear 
 why. 
 
 Meantime, their cousin, William Johnson, alderman 
 of Rotterdam, was seated within a few feet of them, 
 at their backs, and discovered them when Margaret 
 turned round and screamed at the boar. But he did 
 not speak to them, for the following reason. Margaret 
 was very plainly dressed, and Peter inclined to thread- 
 bare. So the alderman said : 
 
 ' 'Twill be time to make up to them when the sun
 
 32 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 sets and the company disperses : then I will take my 
 poor relations to my house, and none will be the wiser.' 
 
 Half the courses were lost on Gerard and Margaret. 
 They were no great eaters, and just now w^ere feeding 
 on sweet thoughts that have ever been unfavourable 
 to appetite. And it was a relief to them when the 
 dessert came and the valets retired a few steps, and 
 they could talk without being overheard. But there 
 is a delicate kind of sensuality, to whose influence 
 these two were perhaps more sensitive than any other 
 pair in that assembly ; the delights of colour, music, 
 and perfume, all of which blended so fascinatingly 
 here. 
 
 Margaret leaned back and half closed her eyes, 
 and murmured to Gerard : ' What a lovely scene i 
 the warm sun, the green shade, the rich dresses, the 
 bright music of the lutes, and the cool music of the 
 fountain, and all faces so happy and gay ! and it is 
 to you we owe it.' 
 
 Gerard was silent. 
 
 ' Now, don't speak to me,' said Margaret, languidly, 
 ' let me listen to the fountain : what are you a com- 
 petitor for ? ' 
 
 He told her. 
 
 ' Very well ! You will gain one prize, at least.' 
 
 ' Which ? which ? have you seen any of my work ? ' 
 
 ' I ? no. But you will gain a prize.' 
 
 ' I hope so : but what makes you think so ? ' 
 
 ' Because you were so good to my father.' 
 
 Gerard smiled at the feminine logic, and hung his 
 head at the sweet praise, and was silent. 
 
 ' Don't speak,' murmured Margaret. ' They say 
 this is a world of sin and misery. Can that be ? What 
 is your opinion V ' 
 
 ' No ! that is all a silly old song,' explained Gerard.
 
 CHAPTER III 33 
 
 ' 'Tis a byword our elders keep repeating out of 
 custom — it is not true.' 
 
 ' How can you kno\\' ? you are but a cliikl,' said 
 Margaret, with pensive dignity. 
 
 ' Why only look round ! And then I thought I had 
 lost you — for' ever ; and you are by my side : and 
 now the minstrels are going to play again. Sin and 
 misery ? Stuff and nonsense ! ' 
 
 ' What do you admii'e most of all these beautiful 
 things, Gerard ? ' 
 
 ' You kno^^' my name ? How is that ? ' 
 
 ' White magic. I am a witch.' 
 
 ' Angels are never witches. But I can't think 
 how you — ' 
 
 ' Foolish boy ! was it not cried at the gate loud 
 enough to deafen one ? ' 
 
 ' So it was. Where is my head ? What do I admire 
 most ? If you will sit a little more that way, I'll 
 tell vou.' 
 
 ' this way ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ! so that the light may fall on you. There. 
 I see many beautiful thmgs here, more beautiful than 
 I could have conceived ; but the finest of all, to my 
 eye, is your lovely hair in its silver frame, and the 
 setting sun kissing it. It minds me of what the Vulgate 
 praises for beauty, " an apple of gold in a network of 
 silver,'' and, O what a pity I did not know you before 
 I sent in my poor efforts at illuminating ! I could 
 illuminate so much better now. I could do everything 
 better. There, now the sun is full on it, it is like an 
 aureole. So our Lady looked, and none since her 
 until to-day.' 
 
 ' O fie ! it is wicked to talk so. Compare a poor, 
 coarse-favoured girl like me with the Queen of Heaven ! 
 O Gerard ! I thought you were a good young man.' 
 
 HEADK D
 
 34 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' So 1 am. But I can't help having eyes — and a 
 heart — Margaret.' 
 
 ' Gerard V ' 
 
 ' Don't be angry ! ' 
 
 ' Now, is it likelv t ' 
 
 ' I love you.' 
 
 ' O for sliame ! you must not say that to me.' 
 
 ' I can't help it. I love you. I love you.' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! for pity's sake ! I must not listen 
 to such words from a stranger. I am ungrateful to 
 call you a stranger. how one may be mistaken ! 
 if I had known you were so bold — ' And Margaret's 
 bjsom began to heave, and her cheeks were covered 
 with blushes, and she looked towards her sleeping 
 father, very much like a timid thing that meditates 
 actual flight. 
 
 Then Gerard was frightened at the alarm he caused. 
 ' Forgive me,' said he imploringly. ' How could any 
 one help loving you ! ' 
 
 ' Well, sir, I will try and forgive you — you are so 
 good in other respects ; but then you must promise 
 never to say you — to say that again.' 
 
 ' Give me your hand then, or you don't forgive me.' 
 
 She hesitated ; but eventually put out her hand 
 a very little way, very slowly. He took it, and held 
 it prisoner. When she thouglit it had been there long 
 enough, she tried gently to draw it away. He held 
 it tight : it submitted quite patient!}' to force. What 
 is the use resisting force ? She turned her head away, 
 and her long eyelashes drooped sweetly. Gerard lost 
 nothing by his promise. Words were not needed 
 here : and silence was more eloquent. Nature was in 
 that day what she is in ours ; but manners were some- 
 what freer. Then, as now, virgins drew back alarmed 
 at the first words of love ; but of prudery and artificial 
 coquetry there was little, and the young soon read
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 35 
 
 one another's hearts. Evrery thing was in Gerard's 
 favour : his good looks, her belief in his goodness, her 
 gratitude ; and, at the Duke's banquet this mellow 
 summer eve, all things disposed the female nature to 
 tenderness ; the avenues to the heart lay open ; the 
 senses were so soothed and subdued with lovely 
 colours, gentle sounds, and delicate odours ; the sun 
 gently sinking, the warm air, the green canopy, the 
 cool music of the now violet fountain. 
 
 Gerard and Margaret sat hand in hand in silence ; 
 and Gerard's eyes sought hers lovingly ; and hers now 
 and then turned on him timidly and imploringly : 
 and two sweet unreasonable tears rolled down her 
 cheeks, and she smiled deliciously ere they were dry. 
 
 And the sun declined ; and the air cooled ; and 
 the fountain plashed more gently ; and the pair 
 throbbed in unison, and silence, and this weary world 
 was heaven to them. 
 
 m 
 
 ^&s 
 
 Oh the mei-jy days, the merry days when we were young, 
 
 m 
 
 ir J- / Jl=^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 Oh the merry days, the merry days when we were young. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A GRAVE white-haired seneschal came to their table 
 and inquired courteously whether Gerard Gerardssoeji 
 wsiH of their company. Upon Gerard's answer, he 
 said : 
 
 ' The Princess Marie would confer with you, young 
 sir ; I am to conduct you to her presence.' 
 
 D 2
 
 36 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Instantly all faces within hearing turned sharp 
 round, and were bent with curiosity and envy on the 
 man that was to go to a princess. 
 
 Gerard rose to obey. 
 
 ' I wager we shall not see you again,' said Margaret, 
 calmly, but colouring a little. 
 
 ' That will you,' was the reply : then he whispered 
 in her ear. ' This is my good princess ; but you are 
 my queen.' He added aloud : ' Wait for me, I pray 
 you, I will presently return.' 
 
 ' Aye, aye ! ' said Peter, who had just awoke. 
 
 Gerard gone, the pair Avhose dress was so homely, 
 yet they were with the man whom the princess sent 
 for, became ' the cynosure of neighbouring eyes ' ; 
 observing which, William Johnson came forward, 
 acted surprise, and claimed his relations : 
 
 ' And to think that there was I at vour backs, and 
 you saw me not.' 
 
 ' Pardon me, cousin Johnson, I saw you long since,' 
 said Margaret, coldly. 
 
 ' You saw me, and spoke not to me ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, cousin, it was for you to welcome us to 
 Rotterdam, as it is for us to welcome you at Seven- 
 bergen. Your servant denied us a seat in your house.' 
 
 ' The idiot ! ' 
 
 ' And I had a mind to see whether it was " like maid 
 like master " : for there is sooth in bywords,' 
 
 Wilham Johnson blushed purple. He saw Margaret 
 was keen, and suspected him. He did the wisest thing 
 under the circumstances — trusted to deeds not words. 
 He insisted on their coming home with liim at once, 
 and he would show them whether they were welcome 
 to Rotterdam or not. 
 
 ' Who doubts it, cousin ? Who doubts it ? ' said 
 the scholar. 
 
 Margaret thanked him graciously, but demurred to
 
 CHAPTER IV 37 
 
 go just now : said she wanted to hear the minstrels 
 again. In about a quarter of an hour Johnson 
 renewed his proposal, and bade her observe that 
 many of the guests had left. Then her real reason 
 came out. . 
 
 ' It were ill manners to our friend : and he will lose 
 us. He knows not where we lodge in Rotterdam, and 
 the city is large, and we have parted company once 
 already.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' said Johnson, ' we will provide for that. 
 My young man, ahem ! I mean my secretary, shall 
 sit here and wait, and bring him on to my house : he 
 shall lodge with me and with no other.' 
 
 ' Cousin, we shall be too burdensome.' 
 
 ' Nay, nay ; you shall see whether you are welcome 
 or not — you and your friends, and your friends' friends 
 if need be ; and I shall hear what the princess would 
 with liim.' 
 
 Margaret felt a thrill of joy that Gerard should be 
 lodged under the same roof with her ; then she had 
 a slight misgiving. ' But if your young man should 
 be thoughtless, and go play, and Gerard miss him — ' 
 
 ' He go play ? He leave the spot where I put him, 
 and bid him stay ? Ho ! Stand forth, Hans Cloter- 
 man.' 
 
 A figure clad in black serge and dark violet hose 
 got up, and took two steps and stood before them 
 without moving a muscle : a solemn, precise young 
 man, the very statue of gravity and starched pro- 
 priety. At his aspect Margaret, being very happy, 
 could hardly keep her countenance. But she whis- 
 pered Johnson, ' I would put my hand in the fire for 
 him ! We are at your command, cousin, as soon as 
 you have given him his orders.' 
 
 Hans was then instructed to sit at the table and 
 wait for Gerard, and conduct him to Ooster-Waagen 
 
 /^ c^ r^ j-^ ■-■■
 
 38 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Street. He replied, not in words, but by calmly 
 taking the seat indicated, and Margaret, Peter, and 
 William Johnson went with the latter. 
 
 ' And, indeed, it is time you were abed, father, after 
 all your travel,' said Margaret. This had been in her 
 mind all along. 
 
 Hans Cloterman sat waiting for Gerard, solemn and 
 business-like. The minutes flew by, but excited no 
 impatience in that perfect young man. Johnson did 
 him no more than justice when he laughed to scorn 
 the idea of his secretary leaving his post, or neglecting 
 his duty, in pursuit of sport, or out of youthful 
 hilarity and frivolity. 
 
 As Gerard was long in coming, the patient Hans — 
 his employer's eye being no longer on him — ' tandem 
 custode remoto,' improved the time by quaffing 
 solemnly, silently, and at short but accurately 
 measured intervals, goblets of Corsican \Wne. The 
 wine was strong, so was Cloterman's head : and it 
 was not until Gerard had been gone a good hour the 
 model secretary had imbibed the notion that creation 
 expected of Cloterman to drink the health of all good 
 fellows, and ' nommement ' of the Duke of Burgundy 
 there present. With this view, he filled bumper nine, 
 and rose gingerly but solemnly and slowly. Having 
 reached his full height, he instantly rolled upon the 
 grass goblet in hand, spilling the cold liquor on many 
 an ankle, but not disturbing a muscle in his own long 
 face, which, in the total eclipse of reason, retained 
 its gravity, primness, and infallibility.
 
 39 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The seneschal led Gerard through several passages 
 to the door oj a pavilion, where some young noblemen, 
 embroidered and feathered, sat sentinel, guarding the 
 heir-apparent, and playing cards by the red light of 
 torches their servants held. A whisper from the 
 seneschal, and one of them rose reluctantly, stared 
 at Gerard with haughty surprise, and entered the 
 pavilion. He presently returned, and, beckoning the 
 pair, led them through a passage or two and landed 
 them in an antechamber, where sat three more young 
 gentlemen, feathered, furred, and embroidered like 
 pieces of fancy work, and deep in that instructive 
 and edifying branch of learning, dice. 
 
 ' You can't see the Princess — it is too late,' said one. 
 
 Another followed suit : — 
 
 ' She passed this way but now with her nurse. She 
 is gone to bed, doll and all — deuce-ace again ! ' 
 
 Gerard prepared to retire. The seneschal, with an 
 incredulous smile, replied : — 
 
 ' The young man is here by the countess's orders ; be 
 so good as conduct him to her ladies.' 
 
 On this a superb Adonis rose, with an injured look, 
 and led Gerard into a room where sat or lolloped eleven 
 ladies, chattering like magpies. Two, more industrious 
 than the rest, Mere playing cat's-cradle with fingers 
 as nimble as their tongues. At tlie sight of a, stranger 
 all the tongues stopped like one piece of complicated 
 machinery, and all the eyes turned on Gerard, as if 
 the same string that checked the tongues had turned 
 the eyes on. Gerard was ill at ease before, but tliis 
 battery of eyes discountenanced him, and down went 
 his eyes on the ground. Then the cowards finding, 
 like the hare who ran by the pond and tlie frogs
 
 40 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 scuttled into the water, that there Mas a creature they 
 could frighten, giggled and enjoyed tlieir prowess. 
 Then a duenna said, severely, ' Mesdames ! ' and 
 they were abashed as one woman. This same duenna 
 took Gerard, and marched before him in solemn 
 silence. The young man's heart sank, and he had 
 half a mind to turn and run out of the place. ' What 
 must princes be,' he thought, ' when their courtiers 
 are so freezing. Of course they take their breeding 
 from him they serve.' These reflections were inter- 
 rupted by the duerma suddenly introducing him into 
 a room where three ladies sat working, and a pretty 
 little girl tuning a lute. The ladies were richly but 
 not showily dressed, and the duenna went up to the 
 one who was hemming a kerchief, and said a few 
 words in a low tone. This lady then turned towards 
 Gerard, Mdth a smile, and beckoned him to come near 
 her. She did not rise, but she laid aside her Avork, 
 and her manner of turning toAvards him, slight as the 
 movement was, was full of grace and ease and courtesy. 
 She began a conversation at once. 
 
 ' Margaret Van Eyek is an old friend of mine, sir, 
 and I am right glad to have a letter from her hand, 
 and thankful to you, sir, for bringing it to me safely. 
 Marie, my love, this is the young gentleman who 
 brought you that pretty miniature.' 
 
 ' Sir, I thank you a thousand times,' said the young 
 lady. 
 
 ' I am glad you feel obliged to him, sweetheart, for 
 our friend wishes us to do him a little service in return.' 
 
 ' I will do anything on earth for him,' replied the 
 young lady, \A'ith ardour. 
 
 ' Anything on earth is nothing in the world,' said 
 the Countess of Charolois, quietly. 
 
 ' Well, then, I will What would you have me to 
 
 do, sir ? '
 
 42 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Gerard had just found out what high society he 
 was in, ' My sovereign demoiselle,' said he, gently 
 and a little tremulously, ' where there have been no 
 pains there needs no reward.' 
 
 ' But we must obey mama. All the Morld must 
 obey mama.' 
 
 ' That is true. Then, our demoiselle, reward me, 
 if you will, by letting me hear the stave you were 
 going to sing and I interrupted it.' 
 
 ' What, you love music, sir ? ' 
 
 ' I adore it.' 
 
 The little princess looked inquiringly at her mother, 
 and received a smile of assent. She then took her 
 lute and sang a romaunt of the day. Although but 
 twelve years old, she was a \^ ell-taught and pains- 
 taking musician. Her little claw swept the chords 
 with courage and precision, and struck out the notes 
 of the arpeggio clear and distinct, and bright like 
 twinkling stars ; but the main charm was her voice. 
 It was not mighty, but it was round, clear, full, and 
 ringing like a bell. She sang with a certain modest 
 eloquence, though she knew none of the tricks of 
 feeling. She was too young to be theatrical or even 
 sentimental, so nothing was forced — all gushed. Her 
 little mouth seemed the mouth of Nature. The ditty, 
 too, was as pure as its utterance. As there were none 
 of those false divisions — those whining slurs, which 
 are now sold so dear by Italian songsters, though 
 every jackal in India delivers them gratis to his 
 customers all night, and sometimes gets shot for 
 them, and always deserves it — so there were no 
 cadences and fiorituri ; the trite, turgid, and feeble 
 expletives of song, the skim milk, with which mindless 
 musicians and mindless ^n•iters Cjuench fire, wash out 
 colour, and drown melody and meaning dead. 
 
 While the pure and tender strain \^'as floM ing from
 
 CHAPTER V 43 
 
 the pure young throat, Gerard's eyes filled with tears. 
 The countess Wcatehed him witli interest, for it was 
 usual to applaud the princess loudly, but not with cheek 
 and eye. So when the voice ceased, and the glasses left 
 off ringing, she asked demurely, ' Was he satisfied ? ' 
 
 Gerard gave a little start ; the spoken voice broke 
 a charm, and brought him back to earth. 
 
 'Oh, madam!' he cried, 'surely it is thus that 
 cherubs and seraphs sing and charm the saints in 
 heaven.' 
 
 ' I am somewhat of your opinion, my young friend,' 
 said the countess, with emotion ; and she bent a look 
 of love and gentle pride upon her girl : a heavenly 
 look, such as, they say, is given to the eye of the 
 short-hved resting on the short-lived. 
 
 The countess resumed : 
 
 ' My old friend requests me to be serviceable to 
 you. It is the first favour she has done us the honour 
 of asking us, and the request is sacred. You are in 
 holy orders, sir ? ' 
 
 Gerard bowed. 
 
 ' I fear you are not a priest, you look too young.' 
 
 ' Oh no, madam ! I am not even a sub-deacon. I am 
 only a lector ; but next month I sliall be an exorcist ; 
 and before long an acolyth.' 
 
 ' Well, Monsieur Gera,rd. with your accomplish- 
 ments you can soon pass througli tlie inferior orders. 
 And let me beg you to do so. For the day after you 
 have said your first mass, I shall have the pleasure 
 of appointing you to a benefice.' 
 
 ' Oh, madam ! ' 
 
 ' And Marie, remember I make this promise in your 
 name as well as my own.' 
 
 ' Fear not, mama : I will not forget. But if he will 
 take my advice, what he will be is Bishop of Liege.
 
 44 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 The Bishop of Liege is a beautiful bishop. What ! 
 don't you remember him, mama, that day we were at 
 Liege ? he was braver than grandpapa himself. He 
 had on a crown — a high one, and it was cut in the 
 middle, and it was full of oh ! such beautiful jewels : 
 and his gown stiff with gold ; and his mantle, too ; 
 and it had a broad border, all pictures : but, above 
 all, his gloves ; you have no such gloves, mama. 
 They were embroidered and covered with jewels, and 
 scented with such lovely scent ; I smelt them all the 
 time he was giving me his blessing on my head with 
 them. Dear old man ! I dare say he will die soon — 
 most old people do — and then, sir, you can be bishop, 
 you know, and wear ' 
 
 ' Gently, Marie, gently : bishoprics are for old 
 gentlemen ; and this is a young gentleman.' 
 
 ' Mama ! he is not so very young.' 
 
 ' Not compared with you, Marie, eh ? ' 
 
 ' He is a good bigness, dear mama ; and I am sure 
 he is good enough for a bishop.' 
 
 ' Alas, mademoiselle ! you are mistaken.' 
 
 ' I don't know that. Monsieur Gerard ; but I am 
 a little puzzled to know on wliat grounds mademoiselle 
 there pronounced your character so boldly.' 
 
 ' Alas, mama ! ' said the princess, ' you have not 
 looked at his face, then ; ' and she raised her eye- 
 brows at her mother's simplicity. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' said the countess, ' I have. 
 Well, sir, if I cannot go quite so fast as my daughter, 
 attribute it to my age, not to a want of interest in 
 your welfare. A benefice will do to begin your career 
 with ; and I must take care it is not too far from — 
 what call you the place ? ' 
 
 ' Tergou, madam.' 
 
 ' A priest gives up much,' continued the countess ; 
 ' often, I fear, he learns too late how much : ' and her
 
 CHAPTER V 45 
 
 woman's eye rested a moment on Gerard with mild 
 pity and half surprise at his resigning her sex, and all 
 the heaven they can bestow, and the great parental 
 joys : ' at least you shall be near your friends. Have 
 you a mother ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, madam ; thanks be to God ! ' 
 
 ' Good ! You shall have a church near Tergou. 
 She will thank me. And no\\ , sir, we must not detain 
 you too long from those who have a better claim on 
 your society than we have. Duchess, obhge me by 
 bidding one of the pages conduct him to the hall of 
 banquet ; the way is hard to find.' 
 
 Gerard bowed low to the countess and the princess, 
 and backed towards the door. 
 
 ' I hope it will be a nice benefice,' said the princess 
 to him, with a pretty smile, as he was going out ; then, 
 shaking her head with an air of solemn misgiving, 
 ' but you had better have been Bishop of Liege.' 
 
 Gerard followed his new conductor, his heart warm 
 with gratitude : but ere he reached the banquet-hall 
 a chill came over him. The mind of one who has led 
 a quiet, uneventful life, is not apt to take in contra- 
 dictory feehngs at the same moment and balance 
 them, but rather to be overpowered by each in turn. 
 While Gerard was with the countess, the excitement 
 of so new a situation, the unlooked-for promise, the 
 joy and pride it would cause at home, possessed him 
 wholly : but now it was passion's turn to be heard 
 again. What, give up Margaret, whose soft hand he 
 still felt in his, and her deep eyes in his heart ? resign 
 her and all the world of love and joy she had opened 
 on him to-day ? The revulsion, when it did come, was 
 so strong, that he hastily resolved to say nothing at 
 home about the offered benefice. ' The countess is 
 so good,' thought he, ' she has a hundred ways of 
 aiding a young man's fortune : she will not compel
 
 46 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 me to be a priest \^'hen she sliall learn I love one of 
 her sex : one would almost think she does kno^^■ it, 
 for she cast a strange look on me, and said, " A priest 
 gives up much, too much," I dare say she will give 
 me a place about the palace.' And with this hopeful 
 reflection his mind was eased, and, being now at the 
 entrance of the banqueting-hall, he thanked his 
 conductor, and ran hastily with joyful eyes toMargaret. 
 He came in sight of the table — she was gone. Peter 
 was gone too. Nobody Avas at the table at all ; only 
 a citizen in sober garments had just tumbled under 
 it dead dinink, and several persons were raising him 
 to carry him away. Gerard never guessed how- 
 important this solemn drunkard was to him : he Avas 
 looking for ' Beauty ', and let ' the beast ' lie. He 
 ran wildly round the hall, which was now compara- 
 tively empty. She was not there. He left the palace : 
 outside he found a crowd gaping at two great fanlights 
 just lighted over the gate. He asked them earnestly 
 if they had seen an old man in a go\vn, and a lovely 
 girl pass out. They laughed at the question. ' They 
 Mei'e staring at these new lights that turn night into 
 day. They didn't trouble their heads about old men 
 and young wenches, everyday sights.' From another 
 group he learned there wsiS. a mystery being played 
 under canvas hard by, and all tlie world gone to see it. 
 This revived his hopes, and he went and saw the 
 mystery. In this representation divine personages, 
 too sacred for me to name here, came clumsily down 
 from heaven to talk sopliistry Anth the cardinal virtues, 
 the nine muses, and the seven deadly sins, all present 
 in human shape, and not unlike one another. To 
 enliven which weary stuff in rattled the prince of the 
 power of the air, and an imp that kept molesting him 
 and buffeting him with a bladder, at each thwack of 
 which the crowd were in ecstacies. When the vices
 
 CHAPTER V 47 
 
 had uttered good store of obscenity and the virtues 
 twaddle, the celestials, including the nine muses, went 
 gingerly back to heaven one by one ; for there was 
 but one cloud ; and two artisans worked it up with 
 its supernatural freight, and w orked it down with 
 a winch, in full sight of the audience. These disposed 
 of, the bottomless pit opened and flamed in the centre 
 of the stage : the carpenters and virtues shoved the 
 vices in, and the virtues and Beelzebub and his 
 tormentor danced merrily round the place of eternal 
 torture to the fife and tabor. 
 
 This entertainment was writ by the Bishop of 
 Ghent for the diffusion of religious sentiment by the 
 aid of the senses, and was an average specimen of 
 theatrical exhibitions so long as they were in the 
 hands of the clergy. But, alas ! in course of time the 
 laity conducted plays, and so the theatre, my reverend 
 friends inform me, has become profane. 
 
 Margaret was nowhere in the crowd, and Gerard 
 could not enjoy the performance : he actually went 
 away in Act II, in the midst of a much-admired piece 
 of dialogue, in wliich Justice outquibbled Satan. He 
 walked through many streets, but could not find her 
 he sought. At last, fairly worn out, he went to a 
 hostelry and slept till daybreak. All that day, heavy 
 and heartsick, he sought her, but could never fall in 
 with her or her father, nor ever obtain the slightest 
 clue. Then he felt she was false, or had changed her 
 mind. He was irritated now, as well as sad. More 
 good fortune fell on him : he almost hated it. At last 
 on the third day, after he had once more been through 
 every street, he said : ' She is not in the town, and 
 I shall never see her again. I will go home.' He 
 started for Tergou with royal favour promised, with 
 fifteen golden angels in his purse, a golden medal on 
 his bosom, and a heart hke a lump of lead.
 
 48 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 CHAPTPJR VI 
 
 It was near four o'clock in the afternoon. Gerard 
 was in the shop. His eldest and youngest sons were 
 abroad. Catherine and her little crippled daughter 
 had long been anxious about Gerard, and now they 
 were gone a little \\ay down the road, to see if by 
 good luck he might be visible in the distance ; and 
 Giles was alone in the sitting-room, which I will 
 sketch, furniture and dwarf included. 
 
 The Hollanders Mere always an original and leading 
 people. At different epochs they invented printing 
 (wooden type), oil-painting, liberty, banking, garden- 
 ing, &c. ; above all, years before my tale, they 
 invented cleanliness. So, while the English gentry, 
 in velvet jerkins and chicken-toed shoes, trode floors 
 of stale rushes, foul receptacle of bones, decomposing 
 morsels, spittle, dogs' eggs, and all abominations, 
 this hosier's sitting-room at Tergou was floored \nth 
 Dutch tiles, so highly glazed and constantly washed, 
 that you could eat off them. There was one large 
 window ; the cross stonework in the centre of it was 
 very massive, and stood in relief, looking like an 
 actual cross to the inmates, and was eyed as such in 
 their devotions. The panes yvere very small and 
 lozenge-shaped, and soldered to one another with 
 strips of lead : the like you may see to this day in 
 some of our rural cottages. The chairs were rude and 
 primitive, all but the arm-chair, whose back, at right 
 angles with its seat, was so high that the sitter's head 
 stopped two feet short of the top. This chair was 
 of oak, and carved at the summit. There was a copper 
 pail, that went in at the waist, holding holy water ; 
 and a little hand-besom to sprinkle it far and wide ; 
 and a long, narrow, but massive oak table, with
 
 CHAPTER VI 49 
 
 a dwarf sticking to the rim by his teeth, his eyes 
 glaring, and his claws in the air like a pouncing 
 vampire. Nature, it would seem, did not make Giles 
 a dwarf out of malice prepense : she constructed 
 a head and torso with her usual care, but just then 
 her attention was distracted, and she left the rest to 
 chance ; the result was a human wedge, an inverted 
 cone. He might with justice have taken her to task 
 in the terms of Horace : 
 
 ' amphora coepit Institui ; currente rota cur urceus 
 exit ? ' 
 
 His centre was anything but his centre of gravity. 
 Bisected, upper Giles would have outweighed three 
 lower Giles's. But this very disproportion enabled 
 him to do feats that would have baffled Milo. His 
 brawny arms had no weight to draw after them ; 
 so he could go up a vertical pole like a squirrel, and 
 hang for hours from a bough by one hand like a cherry 
 by its stalk. If he could have made a vacuum with 
 his hands, as the lizard is said to do with its feet, he 
 would have gone along a ceiling. Now, this pocket 
 athlete was insanely fond of griping the dinner-table 
 with both hands, and so swinging an hour at a time ; 
 and then — climax of delight ! — he would seize it with 
 his teeth, and, taking off his hands, hold on like grim 
 death by his huge ivories. 
 
 But all our joys, however elevating, suffer inter- 
 ruption. Little Kate caught Sampsonet in this 
 posture, and stood aghast. She was her mother's 
 daughter, and her heart beat with the furniture, not 
 with the 12mo gymnast. 
 
 ' Oh, Giles ! how can you ? Mother would be vexed. 
 It dents the table.' 
 
 ' Go and tell her, little tale-bearer,' snarled Giles. 
 ' You are the one for making mischief.' 
 
 READE Jj
 
 50 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Am I ? ' inquired Kate, calmly ; ' that is news 
 to me.' 
 
 ' The biggest in Tergou,' growled Giles, fastening 
 on again. 
 
 At this Kate sat quietly down and cried. Her 
 mother came in almost at that moment, and Giles 
 hurled himself under the table, and there glared. 
 
 ' What is to do now ? ' said the dame, sharply. 
 Then turning her experienced eyes on Giles, and 
 observing the position he had taken up, and a sheepish 
 expression, she hinted at cuifing of ears. 
 
 ' Nay, mother,' said the girl ; ' it was but a foolish 
 word Giles spoke. I had not noticed it at another time ; 
 but I was tired and in care for Gerard, you know.' 
 
 ' Let no one be in care for me,' said a faint voice 
 at the door, and in tottered Gerard, pale, dusty, and 
 worn out ; and, amidst uplifted hands and cries of 
 delight, curiosity, and anxiety mingled, dropped 
 almost fainting into the nearest chair. 
 
 Beating Rotterdam, like a covert, for Margaret, 
 and the long journey afterwards, had fairly knocked 
 Gerard up. But elastic youth soon revived, and 
 behold him the centre of an eager circle. First of all 
 they must hear about the prizes. Then Gerard told 
 them he had been admitted to see the competitors' 
 works all laid out in an enormous hall — before the 
 judges pronounced : 'Oh, mother ! oh, Kate ! when 
 I saw the goldsmiths' work, I had like to have fallen 
 on the floor. I thought not all the goldsmiths on earth 
 had so much gold, silver, jewels, and craft of design 
 and facture. But, in sooth, all the arts are divine.' 
 
 Then, to please the females, he described to them 
 the reliquaries, feretories, calices, crosiers, crosses, 
 pyxes, monstrances, and other wonders ecclesiastical, 
 and the goblets, hanaps, watches, clocks, chains, 
 brooches, &c., so that their mouths watered.
 
 CHAPTER VI 51 
 
 ' But, Kate, when I oame to the illuminated work 
 from Ghent and Bruges, my heart sank. Mine was 
 dirt by the side of it. For the first minute I could 
 almost have cried ; but I prayed for a better spirit, 
 and presently I was able to enjoy them, and thank 
 God for those lovely works, and for those skilful, 
 patient craftsmen, that I oami my masters. Well, the 
 colored work was so beautiful I forgot all about the 
 black and white. But, next day, when all the other 
 prizes had been given, they came to the wTiting, and 
 whose name think you was called first ? ' 
 
 ' Yours,' said Kate. 
 
 The others laughed her to scorn. 
 
 ' You may laugh,' said Gerard, ' but for all that 
 Gerard Gerardzoon of Tergou was the name the 
 herald shouted. I stood stupid ; they thrust me 
 forward. Everything swam before my eyes. I don't 
 know how I found myself kneehng on a cushion at 
 the feet of the duke. He said something to me, but 
 I was so fluttered I could not answer him. So then he 
 put his hand to his side and did not draw a glaive and 
 cut off my dull head, but gave me a gold medal, and 
 there it is.' There was a yell and almost a scramble. 
 ' And then he gave me fifteen great bright golden 
 angels. I had seen one before, but I never handled 
 one. Here they are.' 
 
 ' Oh, Gerard ! oh, Gerard ! ' 
 
 ' There is one for you, our eldest ; and one for you, 
 Sybrandt, and for you. Little Mischief ; and two for 
 you. Little Lily, because God has afflicted you ; and 
 one for myself to buy colours and vellum ; and nine 
 for her that nursed us all, and risked the two crowns 
 upon poor Gerard's hand.' 
 
 The gold drew out their several characters. Cornelis 
 and Sybrandt clutched each his coin with one glare 
 of greediness and another glare of envy at Kate, who 
 
 E 2
 
 52 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 had got two pieces. Giles seized liis and rolled it 
 along the floor and gambolled after it. But Kate put 
 down her crutches and sat do^n, and held out lier 
 little arms to Gerard with a heavenly gesture of love 
 and tenderness, and the mother, fairly benumbed 
 at first by the shower of gold that fell on her apron, 
 now cried out, ' Leave kissing him, Kate, he is my 
 son, not yours. Ah, Gerard, my child ! I have not 
 loved you as you deserved.' 
 
 Then Gerard threw himself on his knees beside her, 
 and she flung her arms round him and wept for joy 
 and pride, upon his neck. 
 
 ' Good lad ! good lad ! ' cried the hosier, with some 
 emotion. ' I must go and tell the neighbours. Lend 
 me the medal, Gerard, I'll show it my good friend, 
 Peter Buyskens ; he is always regaling me with how his 
 son Jorian won the tin mug a-shooting at the Butts.' 
 
 ' Aye, do my man ; and show Peter Buyskens one 
 of the angels. Tell him there are fourteen more, 
 where that came from. Mind you bring it me back ! ' 
 
 ' Stay a minute, father, there is better news behind,' 
 said Gerard, flushing with joy at the joy he caused. 
 
 ' Better ! Better than this ? ' 
 
 Then Gerard told his interview with the countess, 
 and the house rang with joy. 
 
 ' Now, God bless the good lady, and bless the Dame 
 Van Eyck ! a benefice, our son ! My cares are at an 
 end. Gerard, my good friend and master, now we 
 two can die happy whenever our time comes. This 
 dear boy will take our place, and none of these loved 
 ones will want a home or a friend.' 
 
 From that hour Gerard was looked upon as the stay 
 of the family. He was a son apart, but in another 
 sense. He was always in the right, and nothing too 
 good for him. Cornells and Sybrandt became more 
 and more jealous of him, and longed for the day he
 
 CHAPTER VI 53 
 
 should go to his benefice : they would get rid of the 
 favourite, and his reverence's purse would be open 
 to them. With these views he co-operated. The 
 wound love had given him throbbed duller and duller. 
 His success- and the affection and admiration of 
 his parents, made him think more highly of himself, 
 and resent with more spirit Margaret's ingratitude 
 and discourtesy. For all that, she had power to cool 
 him towards the rest of her sex, and now for every 
 reason he wished to be ordained priest as soon as 
 he could pass the intermediate orders. He knew the 
 Vulgate already better than most of the clergy, and 
 he studied the rubric and the dogmas of the church 
 with his friends the monks ; and, the first time the 
 bishop came that way, lie apphed to be admitted 
 ' exorcist ', the third step in holy orders. The bishop 
 questioned him, and ordained him at once. He had 
 to kneel, and, after a short prayer, the bishop delivered 
 to him a little MS. full of exorcisms, and said : ' Take 
 this, Gerard, and have power to lay hands on the 
 possessed, A\hetlier baptized or catechumens ! ' and 
 he took it reverently, and went home invested by the 
 church with power to cast out demons. 
 
 Returning home from the church, he was met by 
 little Kate on her crutches. 
 
 ' Oh, Gerard ! \\ho, think you, has been at our 
 house seeking you ? — the Burgomaster himself.' 
 
 Gerard started, and changed colour. 
 
 ' Ghysbrecht Van Swieten ? What would he 
 M ith me ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, Gerard, I know not. But he was urgent 
 to see you. You are to go to his house on the instant.' 
 
 ' Well, he is the Burgomaster : I must go : but 
 it likes me not. Kate, I have seen him cast such 
 a look on mc as no friend casts. No matter; sucJi 
 looks forewarn the wise. Besides, he knows '
 
 54 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 * Knows what, Gerard ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing.' 
 
 ' Nothing ? ' 
 
 ' Kate, I'll go.' 
 
 And he went to Ghysbrecht Van Swieten's house. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Ghysbrecht van Swieten was an artful man. He 
 opened on the novice with something quite wide of 
 the mark he was really aiming at. ' The town records,' 
 said he, ' are crabbedly AM'itten, and the ink rusty 
 with age.' He offered Gerard the honour of tran- 
 scribing them fair. 
 
 Gerard inquired what he was to be paid. 
 
 Ghysbrecht offered a sum that would have just 
 purchased the pens, ink, and parchment. 
 
 ' But, Burgomaster, my labour ? Here is a year's 
 work.' 
 
 ' Your labour ! Call you marking parchment 
 labour ? Little sweat goes to that, I trow.' 
 
 ' 'Tis labour, and skilled labour to boot : and that 
 is better paid in all crafts than mde labour, sweat or 
 no sweat. Besides, there 's my time.' 
 
 ' Your time ? Why what is time to you, at two- 
 and-twenty ? ' Then fixing his eyes keenly on Gerard, 
 to mark the effect of his words, he said : ' Say, rather, 
 you are idle grown. You are in love. Your body is 
 with those chanting monks, but your heart is 'with 
 Peter Brandt and his red-haired girl.' 
 
 ' I know no Peter Brandt.' 
 
 .This denial confirmed Ghysbrecht's suspicion that 
 the caster out of demons was playing a deep game. 
 
 ' Ye lie ! ' he shouted. ' Did I not find you at her 
 elbow, on the road to Rotterdam ? '
 
 56 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Ah ! ' 
 
 * All. And you were seen at Sevenbergen but 
 t'other day.' 
 
 ' Was I ? ' 
 
 ' Aye ; and at Peter's house.' 
 
 ' At Sevenbergen ? ' 
 
 ' Aye, at Sevenbergen.' 
 
 Now, this was what in modern days is called a draw. 
 It Mas a guess, put boldly forth as fact, to elicit by the 
 young man's answer ^^•hether he had been there lately 
 or not. 
 
 The result of the artifice surprised the crafty one. 
 Gerard started up in a strange state of nervous 
 excitement. 
 
 ' Burgomaster,' said he, Anth trembhng voice, 
 ' I have not been at Sevenbergen this three years, 
 and I know not the name of those you saAV me Avith, 
 nor where they dwelt ; but, as my time is precious, 
 though 3''ou value it not, give you good day.' And 
 he darted out, with his eyes sparkling. 
 
 Ghysbrecht started up in huge ire ; but he sank 
 into his chair again. 
 
 ' He fears me not. He knows something, if not all.' 
 
 Then he called hastily to his trusty servant, and 
 almost dragged him to a window. 
 
 ' See you yon man ? ' he cried. ' Haste ! Follow 
 him! But let him not see you. He is young, but old 
 in craft. Keep him in sight all day. Let me know 
 whither he goes, and what he does.' 
 
 It was night when the servant returned. 
 ' Well ! well ! ' cried Van Swieten, eagerly. 
 ' Master, the young man went from you to Seven- 
 bergen.' 
 
 Ghysbrecht groaned. 
 To the house of Peter the Magician.'
 
 57 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ' Look into your own heart and write ! ' said Herr 
 Cant ; and earth's cuckoos echoed the cry. Look 
 into the Rhine where it is deepest, and the Thames 
 where it is thickest, and paint the bottom. Lower 
 a bucket into a well of self-deception, and what comes 
 up must be immortal truth, mustn't it ? Now, in the 
 first place no son of Adam ever reads his own heart at 
 all, except by the habit acquired and the light gained 
 from some years' perusal of other hearts ; and even 
 then, with his acquired sagacity and reflected light he 
 can but spell and decipher his own heart, not read it 
 fluently. Gerard was so young and green that he 
 needed no philosopher ling to lead him into shallow 
 water. Half way to Sevenbergen he looked into his 
 o\Mi heart, and asked it ^hy he was going to Seven- 
 bergen. His heart replied without a moment's hesita- 
 tion. We are going out of mere curiosity, to know 
 why she jilted us, and to show her it has not broken 
 our hearts, and that we are quite content with our 
 honours and our benefice in prospectu, and don't 
 want her or any of her fickle sex. 
 
 He soon found out Peter Brandt's cottage ; and 
 there sat a girl in the doorway, plying her needle, and 
 a stalwart figure leaned on a long bow and talked to 
 her. Gerard felt an unaccountable pang at the sight 
 of him. Ho\\'ever, the man turned out to be past 
 fifty 3^ears of age, an old soldier, whom Gerard remem- 
 bered to have seen shoot at the butts with admirable 
 force and skill. Another minute and the youth stood 
 before them. Margaret looked up and dropped her 
 work, and uttered a faint cry, and was w hite and red 
 by turns. But these signs of emotion \\ere swiftly
 
 58 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 dismissed, and she turned far more chill and indifferent 
 than she would if she had not betrayed this agitation. 
 ' What ! is it you, Master Gerard ? What on earth 
 brings you here, I wonder.' 
 
 ' I was passing by and saw you ; so I thought 
 I would give you good day, and ask after your father.' 
 ' My father is well. He Avill be here anon.' 
 Then I may as well stay till he comes.' 
 ' As you will. Good Martin, step into the village 
 and tell my father here is a friend of his.' 
 ' And not of yours ? ' 
 ' My father's friends are mine.' 
 ' That is doubtful. It was not like a friend to 
 promise to wait for me, and then make off the moment 
 my back was turned. Cruel Margaret ! you Mttle know 
 how I searched the town for you — how for want of you 
 nothing was pleasant to me.' 
 
 ' These are idle words ; if you had desired my 
 father's company, or mine, you would have come 
 back There I had a bed laid for you, sir, at my 
 cousin's, and he would have made much of you, and, 
 who knows, I might have made much of you too. 
 I was in the humour that day. You will not catch me 
 in the same mind again, neither you nor any young 
 man, I warrant me.' 
 
 ' Margaret, I came back the moment the countess 
 let me go ; but you were not there.' 
 
 ' Nay, you did not, or you had seen Hans Cloterman 
 at our table ; we left him to bring you on.' 
 
 ' I saw no one there, but only a drunken man that 
 had just tumbled down.' 
 
 ' At our table ? How was he clad ? ' 
 ' Nay, I took little heed : in sad-coloured garb.' 
 At this Margaret's face gradually lighted with 
 a mixture of archness and happiness ; then assuming 
 incredulity and severity, she put many shrewd ques-
 
 60 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 tions, all of which Gerard answered most loyally. 
 Finally, the clouds cleared, and they guessed how the 
 misunderstanding had come about. Then came 
 a revulsion of tenderness, all the more powerful that 
 they had done each other wrong ; and then, more 
 dangerous still, came mutual confessions. Neither 
 had been happy since ; neither ever Avould have been 
 happy but for this fortunate meeting. 
 
 And Gerard found a MS. Vulgate lying open on the 
 table, and pounced upon it like a hawk. MSS. were 
 his delight ; but before he could get to it two white 
 hands quickly came flat upon the page, and a red 
 face confronted him. 
 
 ' Nay, take away your hands, Margaret, that I may 
 see where you are reading, and I will read there too at 
 home ; so shall my soul meet yours in the sacred 
 page. You will not ? Nay, then, I must kiss them 
 away.' And he kissed them so often, that for very 
 shame they were fain to withdraw, and, lo ! the 
 sacred book proved to be open at 
 
 ' An apple of gold in a net\\ork of silver.' 
 
 ' There, now,' said she, ' I had been hunting for it 
 ever so long, and found it but even now — and to be 
 caught ! ' and with a touch of inconsistency she 
 pointed it out to Gerard ^vith her white finger. 
 
 ' Aye,' said he, ' but to-day it is all hidden in that 
 great cap.' 
 
 ' It is a comely cap, I'm told by some.' 
 
 ' May be : but what it hides is beautiful.' 
 
 ' It is not : it is hideous.' 
 
 ' Well, it was beautiful at Rotterdam.' 
 
 ' Aye, everything was beautiful that day.' 
 
 And now Peter came in, and welcomed Gerard 
 cordially, and A\'ould have him to stay supper. And 
 Mai-garet disappeared ; and Gerard had a nice learned 
 chat \\ ith Peter ; and Margaret reappeared with her
 
 CHAPTER VIII 61 
 
 hair in her silver net, and sliot a glance half arch, half 
 coy, and she glided about them, and spread supper, 
 and beamed bright with gaiety and happiness. And 
 in the cool evening Gerard coaxed her out, and coaxed 
 her on to the road to Tergou, and there they strolled 
 up and dowTi, hand in hand ; and when he must go 
 they pledged each other never to quarrel or mis- 
 understand one another again ; and they sealed the 
 promise with a long loving kiss, and Gerard went 
 home on wings. 
 
 From that day Gerard spent most of his evenings 
 with Margaret, and the attachment deepened and 
 deepened on both sides till the hours they spent 
 together were the hours they lived ; the rest they 
 counted and underwent. And at the outset of this 
 deep attachment all went smoothly ; obstacles there 
 were, but they seemed distant and small to the eyes of 
 hope, youth, and love. The feelings and passions of 
 so many persons, that this attachment would thwart, 
 gave no warning smoke to show their volcanic nature 
 and power. The com'se of true love ran smoothly, 
 placidly, until it had drawn these two young hearts 
 into its current for ever, and then 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 One bright morning unwonted velvet shone, un- 
 wonted feathers waved, and horses' hoofs glinted 
 and rang through the streets of Tergou, and the 
 windows and balconies were studded with wondering 
 faces. The French Ambassador was riding tlirough 
 to sport in the neighbouring forest. 
 
 Besides his own suite he was attended by several
 
 62 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 servants of the Duke of Burgundy, lent to do him 
 honour and minister to his pleasure. The duke's 
 tumbler rode before him with a grave, sedate majesty, 
 that made his more noble companions seem light, 
 frivolous persons. But ever and anon, when respect 
 and awe neared the oppressive, he rolled off his horse 
 so ignobly and funnily that even the ambassador was 
 fain to burst out laughing. He also climbed up again 
 by the tail in a way provocative of mirth, and so he 
 played his part. Towards the tail of the pageant 
 rode one that excited more attention still — the duke's 
 leopard. A huntsman mounted on a Flemish horse 
 of prodigious size and power carried a long box 
 fastened to the rider's loins by straps curiously con- 
 trived, and on this box sat a huge leopard crouching. 
 She was chained to the huntsman. The people 
 admired her glossy hide and spots, and pressed near, 
 and one or two were for feehng her, and pulling her 
 tail ; then the huntsman shouted in a terrible voice, 
 ' Beware ! At Antwerp one did but throw a handful 
 of dust at her, and the duke made dust of him.' 
 
 ' Gra mercy ! ' 
 
 ' I speak sooth. The good duke shut him up in 
 prison, in a cell under ground, and the rats cleaned 
 the flesh off his bones in a night. Served him right 
 for molesting the poor thing.' There was a murmur 
 of fear, and the Tergovians shrank from tickling the 
 leopard of their sovereign. 
 
 But an incident followed tliat raised their spirits 
 again. The duke's giant, a Hungarian seven feet four 
 inches high, brought up the rear. This enormous 
 creature had, like some other giants, a treble, fluty 
 voice of little power. He was a vain fellow, and not 
 conscious of this or any defect. Now it happened 
 he caught sight of Giles sitting on the top of the 
 balcony ; so he stopped and began to make fun of him.
 
 CHAPTER IX 03 
 
 ' Hallo ! brother ! ' squeaked he, ' I had nearly 
 passed without seeing thee.' 
 
 ' You are plain enough to see,' bellowed Giles, in 
 his bass tones. 
 
 ' Come on my shoulder, brother,' squeaked Titan, 
 and held out' a shoulder of mutton fist to help him 
 down. 
 
 ' If I do I'll cuff your ears,' roared the dwarf. 
 
 The giant saw the homuncule was irascible, and 
 played upon him, being encouraged thereto by the 
 shouts of laughter. He did not see that the people 
 were laughing not at his wit, but at the ridiculous 
 incongruity of the two voices — the gigantic feeble 
 fife and the petty, deep, loud drum, the mountain 
 dehvered of a squeak and the mole-hill belching 
 thunder. 
 
 The singular duet came to as singular an end. 
 Giles lost all patience and self-command, and being 
 a creature devoid of fear, and in a rage to boot, he 
 actually di'opped upon the giant's neck, seized his 
 hair with one hand, and punched his head with the 
 other. The giant's first impulse was to laugh, but 
 the weight and rapidity of the blows speedily coiTected 
 that inclination. 
 
 ' He ! he ! Ah ! ha ! hallo ! oh ! oh ! Holy 
 saints ! here ! help ! or I must throttle the imp. 
 
 I can't ! Lord ! I'll split your skull against the ' 
 
 and he made a wild run backwards at the balcony. 
 Giles saw his danger, seized the balcony in time with 
 both hands, and whipped over it just as the giant's 
 head came against it with a stunning crack. The 
 people roared with laughter and exultation at the 
 address of their little champion. The indignant giant 
 seized two of the laughers, knocked them together 
 like dumb-bells, shook them and strewed them flat — 
 (Catherine shrieked, and threw her apron over Giles) —
 
 M A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 then strode ^^Tathfully away after the party. This 
 incident had consequences no one then present fore- 
 saw : it made Mr. Giles a companion of princes. Its 
 immediate results were agreeable. The Tergovians 
 turned proud of him, and after this listened with 
 more affability to his prayers for parchment. For 
 Giles drove a regular trade with his brother Gerard 
 in this article. That is to say, he went about, and 
 begged it gratis, and Gerard gave him coppers for it. 
 
 On the afternoon of the same day, Catherine and 
 her daughter were chatting together about their 
 favourite theme, Gerard, liis goodness, his benefice, 
 and the brightened prospects of the whole family. 
 
 Their good luck had come to them in the very 
 shape they would have chosen ; besides the advan- 
 tages of a benefice such as the Countess Charolois 
 would not disdain to give, there was the feminine 
 delight at having a priest, a holy man, in their own 
 family. He will marry Cornelis, and Sybrandt : for 
 they can marry (good housewives), now, if they will : 
 ' Gerard will take care of you and Giles, when we are 
 gone.' ' Yes, mother, and we can confess to liim 
 instead of to a stranger,' said Kate. 
 
 ' Aye, girl ! and he can give the sacred oil to your 
 father and me, and close our eyes, when our time 
 comes.' 
 
 ' Oh, mother ! not for many, many years, I do pray 
 heaven. Pray don't speak of that, it always makes 
 me sad. I hope I shall go before you, mother dear. 
 No ! let us be gay to-day. I am out of pain, mother — 
 quite out of all pain ; it does seem so strange ; and 
 I feel so bright and happy, that — mother, can you 
 keep a secret ? ' 
 
 ' Nobody better, child. Why, you know I can.' 
 
 ' Then I will show you something so beautiful.
 
 CHAPTER IX 65 
 
 You never saw the like, I trow. Only Gerard must 
 never know ; for I am sure he means to surprise us 
 witli it, he covers it up so, and sometimes he carries 
 it away altogether.' 
 
 Kate took her crutches, and moved slowly away, 
 leaving her mother in an exalted state of curiosity. 
 She soon returned A\ith something in a cloth, un- 
 covered it, and there was a lovely picture of the 
 Virgin, with all her insignia, and wearing her tiara 
 over a wealth of beautiful hair, which flowed loose 
 over her shoulders. Catherine, at first, was struck 
 with awe. 
 
 ' It is herself ! ' she cried ; ' it is the Queen of 
 Heaven ! I never saw one like her to my mind 
 before.' 
 
 ' And her eyes, mother ! lifted to heaven, as if 
 they belonged there, and not to a mortal creature. 
 And her beautiful hair of burning gold.' 
 
 ' And to think I have a son that can make the saints 
 live again upon a piece of wood ! ' 
 
 ' The reason is, he is a young saint himself, mother. 
 He is too good for this world ; he is here to pourtray 
 the blessed, and then to go away and be with them 
 for ever.' 
 
 Ere they had half done admiring it, a strange voice 
 was heard at the door. By one of the furtive instincts 
 of their sex they hastily hid the picture in the cloth, 
 though there was no need. And the next moment 
 in came, casting his eyes furtively around, a man that 
 had not entered the house this ten years — Ghysbrecht 
 Van Swieten. 
 
 The two women were so taken by surprise, that 
 they merely stared at him and at one another, and 
 said, ' The Burgomaster ! ' in a tone so expressive, 
 that Ghysbrecht felt compelled to answer it. 
 
 ' Yes ! I own, the last time I came here was not 
 
 READE Tp
 
 66 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 on a friendly errand. Men love their own interest — 
 Gerard's and mine were contrary. Well, let this visit 
 atone the last. To-day, I come on your business, and 
 none of mine.' Catherine and her daughter exchanged 
 a swift glance of contemptuous increduhty. They 
 knew the man better than he thought. ' It is about 
 your son Gerard.' 
 
 ' Aye ! aye ! you want him to work for the town — 
 for nothing. He told us.' 
 
 ' I come on no such errand. It is to let you know 
 he has fallen into bad hands.' 
 
 ' Now Heaven and the saints forbid ! Man, torture 
 not a mother ! Speak out, and quickly : speak ere 
 you have time to coin falsehood : we know you.' 
 
 Ghysbrecht turned pale at this affront, and spite 
 mingled with the other motives that brought him 
 here. 
 
 ' Thus it is, then,' said he, grinding his teeth, and 
 speaking very fast. ' Your son Gerard is more like 
 to be a father of a family than a priest : he is for ever 
 with Margaret, Peter Brandt's red-haired girl, and 
 loves her like a cow her calf.' 
 
 Mother and daugliter both burst out laughing. 
 Gh57sbrecht stared at them. 
 
 ' What, you knew it ? ' 
 
 ' Carry this tale to those who know not my son 
 Gerard. Women are nought to hinu' 
 
 ' Other women, mayhap. But this one is the apple 
 of his eye to him, or will be, if you part them not, 
 and soon. Come, dame, don't make me waste time 
 and friendly counsel : my servant has seen them 
 together a score times, handed, and reading babies 
 in one another's eyes like — you know, dame — you 
 have been young too.' 
 
 ' Kate, I am ill at ease. Yes, I have been young, 
 and know how blind and foolish the young are. My
 
 CHAPTER IX 67 
 
 heart ! He has turned me sick in a moment. Oh, 
 Kate, if it should be true ! ' 
 
 ' No, no ! ' cried Kate, eagerly. ' Gerard might 
 love a young woman : all young men do : I can't 
 think what they see in them to love so : but if he 
 did he would let us knoA\ : lie would not deceive us. 
 You wicked man ; you will kill my mother. No, dear 
 mother, don't look so ! Gerard is too good to love 
 a creature of earth. His love is for our lady and the 
 saints. Ah ! I will show you the pict — there : if his 
 heart was earthly could he paint the Queen of Heaven 
 like that — look ! look ! ' and she held the picture 
 out triumphantly, and more radiant and beautiful in 
 this moment of enthusiasm than ever dead picture 
 was or will be, overpowered the Burgomaster with 
 her eloquence and her feminine proof of Gerard's 
 purity. His eyes and mouth opened, and remained 
 open : in which state they kept turning, face and all, 
 as if on a pivot, from the picture to the women, and 
 from the women to the picture. 
 
 ' Why, it is herself ! ' he gasped. 
 
 ' Isn't it ? ' cried Kate, and her hostility was 
 softened. ' You admire it ? I forgive you for 
 frightening us.' 
 
 ' Am I in a mad -house ? ' said Ghysbrecht Van 
 Swieten, thoroughly puzzled. ' You show me a picture 
 of the girl ; and you say he painted it ; and that is 
 a proof he cannot love her. Why they all paint their 
 sweethearts, painters do.' 
 
 ' A picture of the girl 'i ' exclaimed Kate, shocked. 
 ' Fie ! this is not a girl ; this is the Virgin Mary.' 
 
 ' No ; no, it is Margaret Brandt,' 
 
 ' Oh blind ! It is the Queen of Heaven.' 
 
 ' No ; only of Sevenbergen-village.' 
 
 ' Profane man ! behold her crown ! ' 
 
 ' Silly child ! look at her red hair ! ' 
 
 F 2
 
 68 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' WouJd tlie Virgin be seen in red hair ? She who 
 had the pick of all the colours ten thousand years 
 before the world began ? ' 
 
 At this moment an anxious face was insinuated 
 round the edge of the open door : it was their neigh- 
 bour Peter Buysken. 
 
 ' What is to do ? ' said he, in a cautious whisper, 
 ' We can hear you all across the street. What on 
 earth is to do ? ' 
 
 ' O, neighbour ! What is to do ? Why, here is the 
 Burgomaster blackening my Gerard.' 
 
 ' Stop ! ' cried Van Swieten. ' Peter Buysken is 
 come in the nick of time. He knows father and 
 daughter both. They cured him of the cohc. Here, 
 Peter, who is that ? Now, be silent, women, for one 
 moment, if you can. Who is that ? ' 
 
 Peter gave a start. ' Well, to be sure ! ' was all 
 his reply. 
 
 ' Who is it ? ' repeated Ghysbrecht, impetuously. 
 
 Peter Buysken smiled. ' Why you know as well 
 as I do ; but what have they put a crown on her for. 
 I never saw her in a crown, for my part.' 
 
 ' Man alive ! Can't you open your great jaws, and 
 just speak a wench's name to oblige three people ? ' 
 
 ' I'd do a great deal more to oblige one of you than 
 that. Burgomaster. If it isn't as natural as life ! ' 
 
 ' Curse the man ! he \^ on't, he won't — curse him ! ' 
 
 ' Why, what have I done, now ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, sir ! ' said little Kate, ' for pity's sake tell 
 us ; are these the features of one Margaret Brandt ? ' 
 
 ' A mirror is not truer, my little maid.' 
 
 ' But is it she, sir, for very certain ? ' 
 
 ' Why, don't I tell you it is.' 
 
 ' Now, why couldn't you say so at once,' snarled 
 Ghysbrecht. 
 
 ' I did say so, as plain as I could speak,' snapped
 
 CHAPTER IX 69 
 
 Peter ; and they growled over this small bone of 
 contention so zealously, that they did not see Catherine 
 and her daughter had thrown their aprons over their 
 heads, and were rocking to and fro in deep distress. 
 The next moment, Gerard senior came in, and stood 
 aghast. Catherine, though her face was covered, 
 kneM' his footstep directly. 
 
 ' That is my poor man,' she sobbed. ' Tell him, 
 good Peter Buysken, for I have not the courage to.' 
 
 Gerard turned pale. The presence of the Burgo- 
 master in his house, after so many years of coolness, 
 coupled with his wife's and daughter's distress, made 
 him fear some heavy misfortune. 
 
 ' Richart ! Jacob ! ' he gasped. 
 
 ' No ! no ! ' said the Burgomaster ; ' it is nearer 
 home, and nobody is dead or dying, old friend.' 
 
 ' God bless you. Burgomaster ! Ah ! something is 
 gone off my breast that was like to choke me. Now, 
 what is the matter ? ' 
 
 Ghysbrecht then told him all that he told the 
 women, and showed the picture in evidence. 
 
 ' Is that all ? ' said Gerard. ' What are ye roaring 
 and bellowing for ? It is vexing, it is angering, but 
 it is not hke death, nor even sickness. Boys will be 
 boys. He will outgro^\' that disease : 'tis but skin 
 deep.' 
 
 But when Ghysbrecht told him that Margaret was 
 a girl of good character ; that it was not to be sup- 
 posed she would be so intimate if marriage had not 
 been spoken of between them, Gerard's brow darkened. 
 
 ' Marriage ? that shall never be,' said he, sternly. 
 ' I'll stay that, aye, by force if need be, as I would his 
 hand lifted to cut his throat. I'd do what old John 
 Koestein did t'other day.' 
 
 ' And what is that, in Heaven's name ? ' asked the 
 mother, suddenly removing her apron.
 
 70 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 It was the Burgomaster who rephed : 
 
 ' He made me shut young Albert Koestein up in 
 the pi'ison of the Stadthouse till he knocked under : 
 it was not long. Forty-eight hours, all alone, on 
 bread and water, cooled his hot stomach. " Tell my 
 father I am his humble servant," says he, " and let 
 me into the sun once more — the sun is worth all 
 the wenches in the world." ' 
 
 ' Oh the cruelty of men ! ' sighed Catherine. 
 
 ' As to that, the Burgomaster has no choice : it is 
 the law. And if a father says, " Burgomaster, lock 
 up my son," he nmst do it. A fine thing it would be 
 if a father might not lock up his own son.' 
 
 ' Well, well ! it won't come to that ^v•ith me and 
 my son. He never disobeyed me in his life : he never 
 shall. Where is he ? It is past supper-time. Where 
 is he, Kate ? ' 
 
 ' Alas, I know not, father.' 
 
 ' I know,' said Ghysbrecht ; ' he is at Sevenbergen. 
 My servant met him on the road.' 
 
 Supper passed in gloomy silence. Evening 
 descended — no Gerard : eight o'clock came — no 
 Gerard. Then the father sent all to bed except 
 Catherine. 
 
 ' You and I will AAalk abroad, wife, and talk over 
 this new care.' 
 
 ' Abroad, Gerard, at this time ! Whither ? ' 
 
 ' Why, on the road to Sevenbergen.' 
 
 ' Oh no, no hasty words, father ! Poor Gerard ! he 
 never vexed you before.' 
 
 ' Fear me not. But it must end ; and I am not one 
 that trusts to-morrow Anth to-day's work.' 
 
 The old couple walked hand in hand ; for, strange 
 as it may appear to some of my readers, the use of 
 the elbow to couples walking was never discovered
 
 CHAPTER IX 71 
 
 in Europe till centuries after this. They walked 
 a long time in silence. The night M'as clear and 
 balmy. Such nights, calm and silent, recall the past 
 from the dead. 
 
 ' It is a many years since we walked so late, my 
 man,' said Catherine, softly. 
 
 ' Aye, sweetheart, more than we shall see again. 
 (Is he never coming, I wonder ?) ' 
 
 ' Not since our courting days, Gerard.' 
 
 ' No. Aye, you were a buxom lass then.' 
 
 'And you were a comely lad, as ever a girl's eye 
 stole a look at. I do suppose Gerard is with lier now, 
 as you used to be with me. Nature is strong, and 
 the same in all our generations.' 
 
 ' Nay, I hope he has left her by now, confound her, 
 or we shall be here all night.' 
 
 ' Gerard ! ' 
 
 ' Well ? ' 
 
 ' I have been happy witli you, sweetheart, for all 
 our rubs — much happier, I trow, than if I had — been 
 — a — a — nun. You won't speak harshly to the poor 
 child ? One can be firm without being harsh.' 
 
 ' Surely.' 
 
 ' Have you been happy with me, my poor Gerard ? ' 
 
 ' Why, you know I have. Friends I have known, 
 but none like you. Buss me, Avife ! ' 
 
 ' A heart to share joy and grief with is a great 
 comfort to man or woman. Isn't it ? ' 
 
 ' It is so, my lass. 
 
 " It doth joy double, 
 And halveth trouble,'^ 
 
 runs the bye-word. Ah ! here comes the young 
 fool.' 
 
 Catherine trembled and held her husband's hand 
 tight. The moon wan bright, but they were in the
 
 72 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 shadow of some trees, and their son did not see 
 them. He came singing in the moonlight, and his 
 face shining. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 While the Burgomaster was exposing Gerard at 
 Tergou, Margaret had a trouble of her own at Seven- 
 bergen. It was a housewife's distress, but deeper 
 than we can well conceive. She came to Martin 
 Wittenhaagen, the old soldier, Avith tears in her eyes. 
 
 ' Oh, Martin, there 's nothing in the house, and 
 Gerard is coming, and he is so thoughtless. He 
 forgets to sup at home. When he puts down work 
 then he runs to me straight, poor soul : and often 
 he comes here quite faint. And to think I should 
 have nothing to set before my servant that loves me 
 so dear.' 
 
 Martin scratched his head. 
 
 ' What can I do ? ' 
 
 ' It is Thursday ; it is your day to shoot, — sooth 
 to say, I counted on you to-day.' 
 
 ' Nay,' said the soldier, ' I may not shoot when 
 the duke or his friends are at the chace : read else. 
 I am no scholar.' And he took out of his pouch 
 a parchment with a grand seal. It purported to be 
 a stipend and a licence given by Philip Duke of 
 Burgundy to M. W. one of his archers, in return for 
 services in the wars, and for a wound received at the 
 duke's side. The stipend was four merks yearly to 
 be paid by the duke's almoner, and the licence was 
 to shoot three arrows once a week, viz., on Thursday, 
 and no other day, in any of the duke's forests in 
 Holland, at any game but a seven j^ear old back or 
 a doe carrying fawn, proviso that the duke should
 
 CHAPTER X 73 
 
 not be hunting on that day, or any of his friends. In 
 this case Martin was not to go and disturb the woods 
 on peril of his salary and head, &c. 
 
 Margaret sighed and was silent, 
 
 ' Come, cheer up, mistress,' said he, ' for your sake 
 I'll peril my carcass ; I have done that for many 
 a one that was not worth your forefinger. It is no 
 such mighty risk either. I'll but step into the skirts 
 of the forest, here. It is odds but they drive a hare 
 or a fawn within reach of my arrow.' 
 
 * Martin, if I let you go you must promise me not 
 to go far, and not to be seen ; far better Gerard went 
 supperless than ill should come to you, faitliful 
 Martin.' 
 
 The required promise given, Martin took his bow 
 and three arrows, and stole cautiously into the wood : 
 it was scarce a furlong distant. The horns were heard 
 faintly in the distance, and all the game was afoot. 
 Come, thought Martin, I shall soon fill the pot, and 
 no one be the wdser. He took his stand behind a thick 
 oak that commanded a view of an open glade, and 
 strung his bow — a truly formidable weapon. It was 
 of Enghsh yew, six feet two inches high, and thick in 
 proportion : and Martin, broad chested, with arms 
 all iron and cord, and used to the bow from infancy, 
 could draw a three-foot arrow to the head, and when 
 it flew, the eye could scarce follow it, and the bow- 
 string twanged as musical as a harp. This bow had 
 laid many a stout soldier low in the \\ars of the 
 Hoecks and Cabbel-jaws. In those days a battlefield 
 was not a cloud of smoke ; the combatants v/ere few 
 but the deaths many ; for they saw Avhat they 
 were about, and fewer bloodless arrows flew than 
 bloodless bullets now. This tremendous weapon 
 Martin now levelled at a hare. She came cantering, 
 then sat sprightly, and her ears made a capital V.
 
 74 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 The arrow fleM', the string twanged : but Martin had 
 been in a hurry to pot her, and lost her by an inch : 
 the arrow seemed to strike her, but it struck the 
 ground close to her, and passed under her belly like 
 a flash, and hissed along the short grass and dis- 
 appeared. She jumped three feet perpendicular, and 
 away at the top of her speed. ' Bungler ! ' said 
 Martin. A sure proof he was not an habitual bungler, 
 or he would have blamed the hare. He had scarcely 
 fitted another arrow to his string when a wood-pigeon 
 settled on the very tree he stood under. Aha ! thought 
 he, you are small, but dainty. This time he took more 
 pains ; drew his arrow carefully, loosed it smoothly, 
 and saw it, to all appearance, go clean through the 
 bird, carrying feathers sky^vard like dust. Instead 
 of falling at his feet, the bird, whose breast was torn, 
 not fairly pierced, fluttered feebly away, and, by 
 a great effort, rose above the trees, flew some fifty 
 yards, and fell dead at last ; but \\here he could not 
 see for the thick foliage. 
 
 ' Luck is against me,' said he, despondently. But 
 he fitted another arrow, and eyed the glade keenly. 
 Presently he heard a bustle behind him, and turned 
 round just in time to see a noble buck cross the open, 
 but too late to shoot at him. He dashed his bow 
 doM'n with an imprecation. At that moment a long 
 spotted animal glided swiftly across after the deer ; 
 its belly seemed to touch the ground as it went. 
 Martin took up his bow hastily, he recognized the 
 duke's leopard. ' The hunters will not be far from her,' 
 said he, ' and I must not be seen.' 
 
 He plunged into the wood, following the buck and 
 leopard, for that was his way home. He had not 
 gone far Avlien he heard an unusual sound ahead of 
 him — leaves rustling violently, and the ground 
 trampled. An experienced huntsman, he suspected
 
 CHAPTER X 75 
 
 the cause, and hurried in the direction. He found 
 the leopard on the buck's back, tearing him with 
 teeth and claw, and the buck running in a circle and 
 bounding convulsively, with the blood pouring down 
 his hide. Then Martin formed a desperate resolution 
 to have the venison for Margaret. He drew his arrow 
 to the head, and buried it in the deer, who, spite 
 of the creature on his back, bounded high into the 
 air, and fell dead. The leopard went on tearing him 
 as if nothing had happened. 
 
 Martin hoped that the creature would gorge itself 
 with blood, and then let him take the venison. He 
 waited some minutes, then walked resolutely up, and 
 laid his hand on the buck's leg. The leopard gave 
 a frightful growl, and left off sucking blood. She 
 saw Martin's game, and was sulky and on her guard. 
 What was to be done ? Martin had heard that wild 
 creatures cannot stand the human eye. Accordingly 
 he stood erect and fixed his on the leopard ; the 
 leopard returned a savage glance, and never took 
 her eye off Martin. Then Martin, continuing to look 
 the beast down, soon obtained an actual instead of 
 a conventional result. The leopard flew at his head 
 with a frightful yell, flaming eyes, and jaws and claws 
 distended. He had but just time to catch her by the 
 throat before her teeth could crush his face ; one of 
 her claws seized his shoulder and rent it, the other, 
 aimed at his cheek, would have been more deadly 
 still, but Martin was old-fashioned, and wore no hat 
 but a scapulary of the same stuff as his jerkin, and 
 this scapulary he had brought over his head like 
 a hood ; the brute's claw caught in the loose leather. 
 Martin kept lier teeth off his face with some difficulty, 
 and griped her throat fiercely, and she kept rending 
 his shoulder. It m as like blunt reaping-hooks grinding 
 and tearing. The pain ^^as fearful : but, instead of
 
 76 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 cowing the old soldier, it put his blood up, and ho 
 gnashed his teeth with rage almost as fierce as hers, 
 and squeezed her neck with iron force. The two pair 
 of eyes blazed at one another — and now the man's 
 were almost as furious as the brute's. She found he 
 was throtthng her, and made a wild attempt to free 
 herself, in which she dragged his cowl all over his 
 face and blinded him, and tore her claw out of his 
 shoulder, flesh and all : but still he throttled her with 
 hand and arm of iron. Presently her long tail, that 
 was high in the air, went down, and her body lost its 
 elasticity, and he held a choked and powerless thing : 
 he griped it still till all motion ceased, then dashed 
 it to the earth ; then, panting, removed his cowl : the 
 leopard lay still at his feet with tongue protruding 
 a,nd bloody paw ; and for the first time terror fell 
 on Martin. ' I am a dead man : I have slain the 
 duke's leopard.' He hastily seized a few handfuls of 
 leaves and threw them over her ; then shouldered 
 the buck and staggered away, leaving a trail of blood 
 all tlie way — his own and the buck's. He burst into 
 Peter's house a horrible figure, bleeding and blood- 
 stained, and flung the deer's carcass down. 
 
 ' There, no questions,' said he, ' but broil me 
 a steak of it ; for I am faint.' 
 
 Margaret did not see he was A\ounded : she thought 
 the blood was all from the deer. 
 
 She busied herseK at the fire, and the stout soldier 
 stanched and bound his own wound apart, and soon 
 he and Gerard and Margaret were supping royally on 
 broiled venison. 
 
 They were very merry ; and Gerard, ^\dth wonderful 
 thoughtfulness, had brought a flask of Scheidam, and 
 under its influence Martin revived, and told them 
 how the venison ^\as got, and thence to the feats of 
 his youth.
 
 CHAPTER X 77 
 
 Their mirth was suddenly interrupted. Margaret's 
 eye became fixed and fascinated, and her cheek pale 
 with fear. She gasped, and could not speak, but 
 pointed to the window u-ith trembling finger. Their 
 eyes followed hers, and there in the twihght crouched 
 a dark form with eyes like glow-v.orms. 
 
 It was the leopard ! 
 
 While they stood petrified, fascinated by the eyes 
 of green fire, there sounded in the wood a single 
 deep bay. It was the bay of a bloodliound. Martin 
 trembled at it. 
 
 ' They have lost her, and laid muzzled bloodhounds 
 on her scent. They will find her here, and the venison. 
 Good-bye, friends, Martin Wittenhaagen ends here.' 
 
 Gerard seized liis bow, and put it into tlie soldier's 
 hands. 
 
 ' Be a man,' he cried, ' shoot her, and fling her into 
 the wood ere they come up. Who will know ? ' 
 
 More voices of hounds broke out, and nearer. 
 
 ' Curse her ! ' cried Martin. ' I spared her once ; 
 now she must die, or I, or both more hkely ; ' and 
 he reared his bow, and drew his arrow to the head. 
 
 ' No ! no ! ' cried Margaret, and seized the arrow : 
 it broke in half : the pieces fell on each side the bow. 
 The air at the same time filled with the tongues of 
 the hounds : they were hot upon the scent. 
 
 ' What have you done, wench. You have put the 
 halter round my throat.' 
 
 ' No ! ' cried Margaret. ' I have saved you : stand 
 back from the window ! both. Your knife ! quick ! ' 
 She seized his long pointed knife, almost tore it out 
 of his girdle, and darted from the room. The house 
 was now surrounded with baying dogs and shouting 
 men. 
 
 The glow-worm eyes moved not.
 
 78 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Margaret cut off a huge piece of venison, and ran 
 to the window, and threw it to the green eyes of fire. 
 They darted on it with a savage snarl : and there 
 was a sound of rending and crunching : at this 
 moment, the hound uttered a bay so near and loud 
 it rang through the house ; and the three at the 
 window shrank together. Then the leopard feared 
 for her supper, and glided swiftly and stealthily away 
 with it towards the woods, and the very next moment 
 horses and men and dogs came helter skelter past the 
 windoAv, and followed her full cry. Martin and his 
 companions breathed again : the leopard was swift, 
 and would not be caught within a league of their 
 house. 
 
 To table once more, and Gerard drank to w^oman's 
 wit : ' 'Tis stronger than man's force,' said he. 
 
 ' Aye,' said Margaret, ' when those she loves are in 
 danger ; not else.' 
 
 To-night Gerard stayed with her longer than usual, 
 and went home prouder than ever of her, and happy 
 as a prince. Some little distance from home, under the 
 shadow of some trees, he encountered two figures : 
 they almost barred his way. 
 
 It W'as his father and mother. 
 
 A cold chill fell on him. 
 
 He stopped and looked at them : they stood grim 
 and silent. He stammered out some words of inquiry : 
 
 ' What brought them out so late ? ' 
 
 ' Why ask ? ' said his father ; ' you can guess why 
 we are here.' 
 
 ' O, Gerard ! ' said his mother, with a voice full of 
 reproach and yet of affection.

 
 80 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Gerard's heart quaked : he was silent. 
 
 Then his father pitied his confusion, and said to 
 him : 
 
 ' Nay, you need not to hang your head. You are 
 not the first young fool that has been caught by 
 a red cheek, and a pair of blue eyes.' 
 
 ' No, no ! ' put in Catherine : ' it Avas witchcraft. 
 Peter the Magician is well known for that.' 
 
 ' Come, Sir Priest,' resumed his father. ' You know 
 you must not meddle with women-folk. But give us 
 your promise to go no more to Sevenbergen, and here 
 all ends : we won't be hard on you for one fault.' 
 
 ' I can't promise that, father.' 
 
 ' Not promise it, you young hypocrite.' 
 
 ' Nay, father, call me not so : I lacked courage to 
 tell you what I knew would vex you ; and right 
 grateful am I to that good friend, whoever he be, that 
 has let you know. 'Tis a load off my mind. Yes, 
 father, I love Margaret : and call me not a priest, for 
 a priest I will never be. I will die sooner.' 
 
 ' That we shall see, young man. Come, gainsay 
 me no more ; you ^nll learn Avhat 'tis to offend 
 a father.' 
 
 Gerard held his peace : and the three walked home 
 in gloomy silence, broken only by a deep sigh or two 
 from Catherine. 
 
 From that hour the little house of Tergou was no 
 longer the abode of peace. Gerard was taken to task 
 next day before the whole family ; and every voice 
 was loud against him, except little Kate's, and the 
 dwarf's, who was apt to take his cue from her without 
 knowing why. As for Cornelis and Sybrandt, they 
 were bitterer than their father. Gerard was dismayed 
 at finding so many enemies, and looked wistfully 
 into his httle sister's face : her eyes were brimming 
 at the harsh words showered on one who but yesterday
 
 CHAPTER XI 81 
 
 was the universal pet. But she gave him no encourage- 
 ment : she turned her head away from him, and said : 
 
 ' Dear, dear Gerard, pray to Heaven to cure you 
 of this folly ! ' 
 
 ' What, are you against me, too ! ' said Gerard, 
 sadly, and he' rose with a deep sigh, and left the 
 house ; and went to Sevenbergen, 
 
 The beginning of a quarrel, where the parties are 
 bound by affection though opposed in interest and , 
 sentiment, is comparatively innocent ; both are in 
 the right at first starting, and then it is that a calm, 
 judicious friend, capable of seeing both sides, is a gift 
 from Heaven. For the longer the dissension endures, 
 the wider and deeper it grows by the fallibility and 
 irascibility of human nature : these are not confined 
 to either side, and finally the invariable end is reached 
 — both in the wrong. 
 
 The combatants were unequally matched. Gerard 
 Senior was angry, Cornehs and Sybrandt spiteful ; 
 but Gerard, having a larger and more cultivated mind, 
 saw both sides where they saw but one, and had fits 
 of irresolution, and was not \vrath, but unhappy. He 
 was lonely, too, in this struggle. He could open his 
 heart to no one. Margaret was a high spirited girl : 
 he dared not tell her what he had to endure at home ; 
 she was capable of siding "wdth his relations by resign- 
 ing him, though at the cost of her own happiness. 
 Margaret Van Eyck had been a great comfort to him 
 on another occasion ; but now he dared not make 
 her his confidante. Her own history was well known. 
 In early life she had many offers of marriage ; but 
 refused them all for the sake of that art to which 
 a wife's and mother's duties are so fatal : thus she 
 remained single and painted with her brothers. How 
 could he tell her that he declined the benefice she 
 had got him, and declined it for the sake of that 
 
 BEADS Q
 
 82 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 wliich at his age she had despised and sacrificed 
 so lightly. 
 
 Gerard at this period bade fair to succumb. But 
 the other side had a horrible ally in Catherine Senior. 
 This good-hearted but uneducated woman could not, 
 like her daughter, act quietly and firmly : still less 
 could she act upon a plan. She irritated Gerard at 
 times, and so helped him, for anger is a great sustainer 
 of the courage : at others she turned round in a 
 moment and made onslaughts on her own forces. To 
 take a single instance out of many : one day that 
 they were all at home, Catherine and all, Cornelis 
 said : ' Our Gerard wed Margaret Brandt ! Why it is 
 hunger marrying thirst.' 
 
 ' And what will it be when you marry ? ' cried 
 Catherine. ' Gerard can paint, Gerard can wTite, but 
 what can you do to keep a woman, ye lazy loon ? 
 Nought but wait for your father's shoes. Oh, we can 
 see why you and Sybrandt a\ ould not have the poor 
 boy to marry. You are afraid he will come to us for 
 a share of our substance. And suppose he does, and 
 suppose we give it him, it isn't yours to say nay, and 
 mayhap never will be.' 
 
 On these occasions Gerard smiled shly, and picked 
 up heart : and temporary confusion fell on Catherine's 
 unfortunate allies. But at last, after more than six 
 months of irritation, came the climax. The father 
 told the son before the whole family he had ordered 
 the Burgomaster to imprison him in the Stadthouse 
 rather than let him marry Margaret. Gerard turned 
 pale with anger at this, but by a great effort held his 
 peace. His father went on to say, ' And a priest you 
 shall be before the year is out, nilly willy.' 
 
 ' Is it so ? ' cried Gerard. ' Then hear me all. By 
 God and St. Bavon I swear I will never be a priest 
 while Margaret lives. Since force is to decide it, and
 
 CHAPTER XI 83 
 
 not love and duty, try force, father ; but force shall 
 not serve you, for the day I see the Burgomaster 
 come for me, I leave Tergou for ever, and Holland 
 too, and my father's house, where it seems I have been 
 valued all these years, not for myself, but for what 
 is to be got out of me.' 
 
 And he flung out of the room white with anger and 
 desperation. 
 
 ' There ! ' cried Catherine, ' that comes of driving 
 young folk too hard. But men are crueller than 
 tigers, even to their own flesh and blood. Now, 
 Heaven forbid he should ever leave us, married or 
 single.' 
 
 As Gerard came out of the house, his cheeks pale 
 and his heart panting, he met Richt Heynes : she 
 liad a message for him : Margaret Van Eyck desired 
 to see him. He found the old lady seated grim as 
 a judge. She wasted no time in preliminaries, but 
 inquired coldly why he had not visited her of late : 
 before he could answer, she said in a sarcastic tone, 
 ' I thought we liad been friends, young sir.' 
 
 At this Gerard looked the picture of doubt and 
 consternation. 
 
 ' It is because you never told her you were in love,' 
 said Richt Heynes, pitying his confusion. 
 
 ' Silence, wench ! Why should he tell us his affairs ? 
 We are not his friends : we have not deserved his 
 confidence.' 
 
 ' Alas ! my second mother,' said Gerard, * I did not 
 dare to tell you my folly.' 
 
 ' What folly ? Is it folly to love ? ' 
 
 * I am told so every day of my life.' 
 
 ' You need not have been afraid to tell my mistress ; 
 she is always kind to true lovers.' 
 
 ' Madam — Richt, — I was afraid because I was 
 
 told ' 
 
 a 2
 
 84 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Well ? you were told- 
 
 ' That in your youth you scorned love, preferring 
 art.' 
 
 ' I did, boy ; and what is the end of it ? Behold 
 me here a barren stock, while the women of my youth 
 have a troup of children at their side, and grand- 
 children at their knee. I gave up the sweet joys of 
 wifehood and motherhood for what ? for my dear 
 brothers ; they have gone and left me long ago ; — 
 for my art ; it has left me too. I have the knowledge 
 still, but what avails that when the hand trembles. 
 No, Gerard : I look on you as my son. You are good, 
 you are handsome, you are a painter, though not like 
 some I have known. I will never let you throw your 
 youth away as I did mine : you shall marry this 
 Margaret. I have inquired, and she is a good daughter. 
 Richt here is a gossip. She has told me all about it. 
 But that need not hinder you to tell me.' 
 
 Poor Gerard was overjoyed to be permitted to tell 
 his love and his unhappiness, and above all to praise 
 Margaret aloud, and to one who could understand 
 what he loved in her. 
 
 Soon there were two pair of wet eyes over his story ; 
 and when the poor boy saw that, there were three. 
 
 Women are justly famous for courage. Theirs is not 
 exactly the same quality as manly courage ; that 
 would never do, hang it all ; we should have to give up 
 trampling on them. No ; it is a vicarious courage. 
 They never take part in a bull-fight by any chance ; 
 but it is remarked that they sit at one unshaken by 
 those tremors and apprehensions for the combatants 
 to which the male spectator — feeble-minded uTetch ! 
 — is subject. Nothing can exceed the resolution with 
 which they have been known to send forth men to 
 battle : as some witty dog says, ' Les femmes sont 
 tres braves avec le peau d'autrui.'
 
 CHAPTER XI 85 
 
 By this trait Gerard now profited. Margaret and 
 Rieht were agreed that a man should always take the 
 bull by the horns. Gerard's only course m'sls to marry 
 Margaret Brandt off-hand ; the old people would 
 come to after.a while, the deed once done. \^^iereas, 
 the longer this misunderstanding continued on its 
 present footing, the worse for all parties, especially 
 for Gerard. 
 
 'See how pale and thin they have made liim 
 amongst them.' 
 
 ' Indeed you are, Master Gerard,' said Richt. ' It 
 makes a body sad to see a young man so wasted and 
 worn. Mistress, when I met him in the street to-day, 
 I had like to have burst out crying — he was so 
 changed.' 
 
 ' And I'll be bound the others keep their colour ; 
 eh Richt ? such as it is.' 
 
 ' Oh, I see no odds in them.' 
 
 * Of course not. We painters are no match for 
 boors. We are glass, they are stone. We can't stand 
 the worry, vsorry, worry of little minds ; and it is 
 not for the good of mankind we should be exposed 
 to it. It is hard enough, God knows, to design and 
 paint a masterpiece, without having gnats and flies 
 stinging us to death into the bargain.' 
 
 Exasperated as Gerard was by his father's threat 
 of violence, he listened to these friendly voices telling 
 him his most prudent course was rebellion. But 
 though he listened he was not convinced. 
 
 ' I do not fear my father's violence,' he said, ' but 
 I do fear his anger. Wlien it came to the point he 
 would not imprison me. I would marry Margaret 
 to-morrow if that was my only fear. No ; he would 
 disown me. I should take Margaret from her father, 
 and give her a poor husband, who would never thrive, 
 weighed down by his parent's curse. Oh, madam ! I
 
 86 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 sometimes think if I could but marry her secretly, 
 and then take her away to some country where my 
 craft is better paid than in this ; and after a year or 
 two, when the storm had blown over, you know, could 
 come back with money in my purse, and say, " My 
 dear parents, we do not seek your substance, we but 
 ask you to love us once more as you used, and as we 
 have never ceased to love you " — but, alas ! I shall 
 be told these are the dreams of an inexperienced 
 young man.' 
 
 The old lady's eyes sparkled. 
 
 ' It is no dream, but a piece of wonderful common 
 sense in a boy ; it remains to be seen whether you 
 have spirit to carry out your owti thought. There is 
 a country, Gerard, where certain fortune aAvaits you 
 at this moment. Here the arts freeze, but there they 
 flourish, as they never yet flourished in any age or 
 land.' 
 
 ' It is Italy ! ' cried Gerard. ' It is Italy ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, Italy ! where painters are honoured like 
 princes, and scribes are paid three hundred crowns 
 for copying a single manuscript. Know you not that 
 his Holiness the Pope has wTitten to every land for 
 skilful scribes to copy the hundreds of precious 
 manuscripts that are pouring into that favoured land 
 from Constantinople, whence learning and learned 
 men are driven by the barbarian Turks.' 
 
 ' Nay, I know not that ; but it has been the dream 
 and hope of my life to visit Italy, the queen of all the 
 arts. Oh, madam ! but the journey, and we are all 
 so poor.' 
 
 ' Find you the heart to go, I'll find the means. 
 I know where to lay my hand on ten golden angels 
 to take you to Rome ; and the girl \\ill go with you 
 if she loves you as .she ought.' 
 
 They sat till midnight over this theme. And, after
 
 CHAPTER XI 87 
 
 that day, Gerard recovered his spirits, and seemed 
 to carry some secret talisman against all the gibes and 
 the harsh words that flew about his ears at home. 
 
 Besides the money she procured him for the 
 journey, Margaret Van Eyck gave him money's 
 worth. Said she, ' I will tell you secrets that I learned 
 from masters that are gone from me, and have left 
 no fellow behind. Even the Italians know not every- 
 thing ; and what I tell you now in Tergou you may 
 sell dear in Florence. Note my brother John's pic- 
 tures : time, which fades all other paintings, leaves 
 his colours bright as the day they left the easel. The 
 reason is, he did nothing blindly, nothing in a hurry. 
 He trusted to no hireling to grind his colours ; he did 
 it himself, or sa^\■ it done. His panel was prepared, and 
 prepared again — I will show you how — a year before 
 he laid his colour on. Most of them are quite content 
 to have their work sucked up and lost sooner than 
 not be in a hurry — bad painters are always in a hurry. 
 Above all, Gerard, I warn you never boil your oil ; 
 boiling it melts that vegetable dross into its very 
 heart, which it is our business to clear away ; for 
 impure oil is death to colour. No ; take your oil and 
 pour it into a bottle uith water. In a day or two, 
 the water will turn muddy : that is muck from the 
 oil. Pour the dirty water carefully away, and add 
 fresh. When that is poured away, you will fancy the 
 oil is clear. You are mistaken. Richt, fetch me that ! 
 Richt brought a glass trough with a glass lid fitting 
 tight. ' When your oil has been washed in bottle, 
 put it into this trough with water, and put the 
 trough in the sun all day. You will soon see the 
 water turbid again. But mark, you must not carry 
 this game too far, or the sun will turn your oil to 
 varnish. When it is as clear as crystal, and not 
 too drying, drain carefully, and cork it up tight.
 
 88 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Grind your own prime colours, and lay them on with 
 this oil, and they shall live. Hubert would put sand 
 or salt in the water to clear the oil quicker. But John 
 used to say, " Water will do it best, if you but give 
 water time." Jan Van Eyck was never in a hurry, and 
 that is why the world will not forget him in a hurry.' 
 
 This and several other receipts — quae nunc per- 
 scribere longum est — Margaret gave him with spark- 
 ling eyes, and Gerard received them like a legacy from 
 Heaven, so interesting are some things that read 
 uninteresting. Thus provided with money and know- 
 ledge, Gerard decided to marry and fly with his wife 
 to Italy. Nothing remained now but to inform 
 Margaret Brandt of his resolution, and to publish the 
 banns as quietly as possible. He went to Sevenbergen 
 earlier than usual on both these errands. He began 
 with Margaret ; told her of the Dame Van Eyck's 
 goodness, and the resolution he had come to at last, 
 and invited her co-operation. 
 
 She refused it plump. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ' No, Gerard ; you and I have never spoken of your 
 
 family, but when you come to marriage ' She 
 
 stopped, then began again. ' I do think your father 
 has no objection to me more than to another. He 
 told Peter Buysken as much, and Peter told me. But 
 80 long as he is so bent on your being a priest (you 
 ought to have told me this instead of I you), I could 
 not marry you, Gerard, dearly as I love you.' 
 
 Gerard strove in vain to shake this resolution. 
 He found it very easy to make her cry, but impossible 
 to make her yield. Then Gerard was impatient and 
 unjust.
 
 CHAPTER XII 89 
 
 * Very well ! ' he cried ; ' then you are on their 
 side, and you will drive me to be a priest, for this 
 must end one way or another. My parents hate me 
 in earnest, but my lover only loves me in jest ! ' 
 
 And with this wild, bitter speech, he flung away 
 home again, and left Margaret weeping. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 When a man misbehaves, the effect is curious on 
 a girl who loves him sincerely. It makes her pity 
 him. This, to some of us males, seems anything but 
 logical. The fault is in our own eye, the logic is too 
 swift for us. The girl argues thus : ' How unhappy, 
 how vexed, poor . . . must be ; him to misbehave ! ' 
 
 Margaret was full of this sweet womanly pity, 
 when, to her great surprise, scarce an hour and a half 
 after he left her, Gerard came running back to her 
 with the fragments of a picture in his hand, and 
 panting with anger and grief. 
 
 ' There, Margaret ! see ! see ! the wretches ! Look 
 at their spite ! They have cut your jDortrait to pieces. 
 
 Margaret looked. And, sure enough, some malicious 
 hand had cut her portrait into five pieces. She was 
 a good girl, but she was not ice ; she turned red to 
 her very forehead. 
 
 ' Who did it ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, I know not. I dared not ask ; for I should 
 hate the hand that did it, aye, till my dying day. My 
 poor Margaret ! The beasts ! the ruffians ! Six 
 months' work cut out of my life, and nothing to show 
 for it now. See, they have hacked through your very 
 face — the sweet face that every one loves who knows 
 it. 0, heartless, merciless vipers ! ' 
 
 ' Never mind, Gerard,' said Margaret, panting.
 
 90 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Since this is how they treat you for my sake — you 
 rob him of my portrait, do you ! Well, then I give 
 him the original.' 
 
 ' 0, Margaret ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, Gerard ; since they are so cruel, I will be the 
 kinder : forgive me for refusing you. 1 will be your 
 wife — to-morrow, if it is your pleasure.' 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 The banns of marriage had to be read three times, 
 as with us ; but they were read on weekdays, and the 
 young couple easily persuaded the cure to do the 
 three readings in twenty-four hours : he was new to 
 the place, and their looks spoke volumes in their 
 favour. They were cried on Monday at matins and 
 at vespers ; and, to their great delight, nobody from 
 Tergou was in the church. The next morning they 
 were both there palpitating with anxiety, when, to 
 their horror, a stranger stood up and forbade the 
 banns, on the score that the parties were not of age, 
 and their parents not consenting. 
 
 Outside the church door, Margaret and Gerard 
 held a trembling and almost despairing consultation ; 
 but, before they could settle anything, the man who 
 had done them so ill a turn approached, and gave 
 them to understand that he was very sorry to inter- 
 fere ; that his inclination was to further the happiness 
 of the young : but that in point of fact his only means 
 of getting a living was by forbidding banns : what 
 then ? The young people give me a crown, and I undo 
 my work handsomely ; tell the cure I was misinformed ; 
 and all goes smoothly. 
 
 ' A crown ? I will give you a golden angel to do 
 this,' said Gerard, eagerly. The man consented as
 
 CHAPTER XIV 91 
 
 eagerly, and went with Gerard to the cure, and told 
 him he had made a ridiculous mistake, which a sight 
 of the parties had rectified. On this the cure agreed 
 to marry the young couple next day at ten : and the 
 professional obstructor of bliss went home with 
 Gerard's angel. Like most of these very clever 
 knaves, he was a fool, and proceeded to drink his 
 angel at a certain hostelry in Tergou, where was 
 a green devoted to archery and the common sports 
 of the day. There, being drunk, he bragged of his 
 day's exploit ; and who should be there, imbibing 
 every word, but a great frequenter of the sport, the 
 ne'er-do-weel Sybrandt. Sybrandt ran home to tell 
 his father ; his father was not at home ; he was 
 gone to Rotterdam to buy cloth of the merchants. 
 Catching his elder brother's eye, he made him a signal 
 to come out, and told him what he had heard. 
 
 There are black sheep in nearly every large family : 
 and these two were Gerard's black brothers. Idleness 
 is vitiating : waiting for the death of those we ought 
 to love is vitiating : and these two one-idead curs 
 were ready to tear any one to death that should 
 interfere with that miserable inheritance, which was 
 their thought by day and their dream by night. 
 Their parents' parsimony was a virtue ; it was accom- 
 panied by industry, and its motive was love of their 
 offspring : but in the.se perverse and selfish hearts 
 that homely virtue v/as perverted into avarice, than 
 which no more fruitful source of crimes is to be found 
 in nature. 
 
 They put their heads together, and agreed not to 
 tell their mother, whose sentiments were so uncertain, 
 but to go first to the Burgomaster. They were 
 cunning enough to see that he was averse to the 
 match, though they could not divine why. 
 
 Ghysbrecht Van Swieten saw through them at
 
 92 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 once ; but he took care not to let them see through 
 him. He heard their story ; and, putting on magis- 
 terial dignity and coldness, he said : 
 
 ' Since the father of the family is not here, his duty 
 devolves on me, who am the father of the town. 
 I know your father's mind ; leave all to me : and, 
 above all, tell no woman a word of all this, least of 
 all the women that are in your own house : for 
 chattering tongues mar the wisest counsels.' 
 
 So he dismissed them a little superciliously : he 
 was ashamed of his confederates. 
 
 On their return home they found their brother 
 Gerard seated on a low stool at their mother's knee : 
 she was caressing his hair with her hand, speaking 
 very kindly to him, and promising to take his part 
 with his father and thwart his love no more. The 
 main cause of this change of mind was one that the 
 reader will comprehend, if he has ever known a woman 
 of this kind. It was this. She it was who in a moment 
 of female irritation had cut Margaret's picture to 
 pieces. She had watched the effect with some mis- 
 givings, and had seen Gerard turn pale as death, and 
 sit motionless like a bereaved creature, with the pieces 
 in his hands, and his eyes fixed on them till tears 
 came and blinded them. Then she was terrified at 
 what she had done ; and next her heart smote her 
 bitterly ; and she wept sore apart : but, being what 
 she was, dared not own it, but said to herself, ' I'll 
 not say a word, but I'll make it up to him.' And 
 her bowels yearned over her son, and her feeble 
 violence died a natural death, and she was transferring 
 her fatal alliance to Gerard when the two black sheep 
 came in. Gerard knew nothing of the immediate 
 cause : on the contrary, her kindness made this novice 
 ashamed of a suspicion he had for a moment enter- 
 tained that she was the depredator : and he kissed
 
 CHAPTER XIV 93 
 
 her again and again, and went to bed happy as 
 a prince to think his mother was his mother once 
 more at the very crisis of his fate. 
 
 The next morning, at ten o'clock, Gerard and 
 Margaret were in the church at Sevenbergen — he 
 radiant with joy, she with blushes. Peter was also 
 there, and Martin Wittenhaagen, but no other friend. 
 Secrecy was everything. Margaret had declined Italj-. 
 She could not leave her father ; he was too learned 
 and too helpless. But it was settled they should 
 retire into Flanders for a few weeks until the storm 
 should be blown over at Tergou. The cure did not 
 keep them waiting long, though it seemed an age. 
 Presently he stood at the altar, and called them to 
 him. They went hand in hand, the happiest in 
 Holland. The cure opened his book. 
 
 But ere he had uttered a single word of the sacred 
 rite, a harsh voice cried ' Forbear ' ! And the con- 
 stables of Tergou came up the aisle and seized 
 Gerard in the name of the law. Martin's long knife 
 flashed out directly. 
 
 ' Forbear, man ! ' cried the priest. ' What ! draw 
 your weapon in a church ! And you who interrupt 
 this holy sacrament — what means this impiety ? ' 
 
 ' There is no impiety, father,' said the Burgomaster's 
 servant respectfully. ' This young man would marry 
 against his father's will, and his father has prayed our 
 Burgomaster to deal with him according to the law. 
 Let him deny it if he can.' 
 
 ' Is this so, young man ? ' 
 
 Gerard hung his head. 
 
 ' We take him to Rotterdam to abide the sentence 
 of the duke.' 
 
 At this Margaret uttered a cry of despair, and the 
 young creatures, who were so happy a moment ago,
 
 94 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 fell to sobbing in one another's arms so piteously 
 that the instruments of oppression drew back a step, 
 and were ashamed ; but one of them that was good- 
 natured stepped up under pretence of separating 
 them, and whispered : 
 
 ' Rotterdam ? it is a lie ! We but take him to our 
 Stadthouse.' 
 
 They took him away on horseback, on the road to 
 Rotterdam ; and, after a dozen halts, and by sly 
 detours, to Tergou. Just outside the town they 
 were met by a rude vehicle covered with canvas. 
 Gerard was put into this, and about five in the 
 evening was secretly conveyed into the prison of the 
 Stadthouse. He was taken up several flights of stairs 
 and thrust into a small room lighted only by a narrow 
 window, with a vertical iron bar. The whole furniture 
 was a huge oak chest. 
 
 Imprisonment in those days was one of the high 
 roads to death. It is horrible in its mildest form ; 
 but in these days it implied cold, unbroken solitude, 
 torture, starvation, and often poison. Gerard felt he 
 was in the hands of an enemy. 
 
 ' Oh, the look that man gave me on the road to 
 Rotterdam. There is more here than my father's 
 wrath. I doubt I shall see no more the light of day.' 
 And he kneeled down and commended his soul to God. 
 
 Then he rose and sprang at the iron bar of the 
 window and clutched it. This enabled him, by 
 pressing his knees against the wall, to look out. It 
 was but for a minute ; but, in that minute, he saw 
 a sight that none but a captive can appreciate. 
 
 He saw Martin Wittenhaagen's back. 
 
 Martin was sitting, quietly fishing in the brook near 
 the Stadthouse. 
 
 Gerard sprang again at the window, and whistled. 
 Martin instantly showed that he was watching much
 
 96 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 harder than he was fishing. He turned hastily round 
 and saw Gerard ; made him a signal, and taking up 
 his line and bow went quickly off. 
 
 Gerard saw by this that his friends were not idle, 
 yet he had rather Martin had stayed. The very sight 
 of him was a comfort. He held on, looking at the 
 soldier's retiring form as long as he could, then falling 
 back somewhat heavily, wrenched the rusty iron bar 
 — held only by rusty nails — away from the stone- 
 work just as Ghysbrecht Van Swieten opened the 
 door stealthily behind him. The Burgomaster's eye 
 fell instantly on the iron, and then glanced at the 
 window ; but he said nothing. The window was 
 eighty feet high ; and if Gerard had a fancy for 
 jumping out, why should he balk it ? He brought 
 a brown loaf and a pitcher of water, and set them on 
 the chest in solemn silence. Gerard's first impulse 
 was to brain him with the iron bar, and fly down the 
 stairs ; but the Burgomaster seeing something wicked 
 in his eye, gave a little cough, and three stout fellows, 
 armed, showed themselves directly at the door. 
 
 ' My orders are to keep you thus until you shall bind 
 yourself by an oath to leave Margaret Brandt, and 
 return to the church to which you have belonged 
 from infancy. 
 
 ' Death sooner ! ' 
 
 ' As you please.' And the Burgomaster retired. 
 
 Martin went with all speed to Sevenbergen ; there 
 he found Margaret pale and agitated, but full of 
 resolution and energy. She was just finishing a letter 
 to the Countess Charolois, appealing to her against 
 the violence and treachery of Ghysbrecht. 
 
 ' Courage ! ' cried Martin, on entering. ' I have 
 found him. He is in the haunted tower ; right at 
 the top of it. Aye ! I know the place : many a poor
 
 CHAPTER XIV 97 
 
 fellow has gone up there straight, and come down 
 feet foremost.' 
 
 He then told them how he had looked up and seen 
 Gerard's face at a window that was like a slit in the 
 wall. 
 
 ' Oh, Martin ! how did he look ? ' 
 
 ' What mean you ? He looked like Gerard 
 Gerardssoen.' 
 
 ' But was he pale ? ' 
 
 ' A little.' 
 
 ' Looked he anxious ? Looked he like one doomed ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, nay ; as bright as a pewter pot.' 
 
 ' You mock me. Ah ! then that was at sight of 
 you. He counts on us. Oh ! what shall we do ? 
 Martin, good friend, take this at once to Rotterdam.' 
 
 Martin held out his hand for the letter, but was 
 interrupted. 
 
 Peter had sat silent all this time, but pondering, 
 and, contrary to his usual custom, keenly attentive 
 to what was going on around him. 
 
 ' Put not your trust in princes/ said he. 
 
 ' Alas ! what else have we to trust in ? ' 
 
 ' Knowledge.' 
 
 ' Alas, father ! your learning will not serve us here.' 
 
 ' How know you that ? Wit has been too strong 
 for iron bars ere to-day.' 
 
 ' Aye, father ; but nature is stronger than wit, and 
 she is against us. Think of the height ! No ladder 
 in Holland might reach.' 
 
 ' I need no ladder : what I need is a gold crown.' 
 
 ' Nay, I have money, for that matter. I have nine 
 angels. Gerard gave them me to keep ; but what do 
 they avail ? The Burgomaster will not be bribed to 
 let Gerard free.' 
 
 ' What do they avail ? Give me but one crown, 
 and the young man shall sup with us this night.' 
 
 KEADE H
 
 98 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Peter spoke so eagerly and confidently, that for 
 a moment Margaret felt hopeful ; but she caught 
 Martin's eye dwelling upon him ^vith an expression 
 of benevolent contempt. 
 
 ' It passes the powers of man's invention,' said she, 
 with a deep sigh. 
 
 ' Invention ? ' cried the old man. A fig for 
 invention ! What need we invention at this time of 
 day ? Everything has been said that is to be said, 
 and done that can be done. I shall tell you how 
 a Florentine knight was shut up in a tower higher 
 than Gerard's : yet did his faitliful squire stand at 
 the tower foot and get him out, with no other engine 
 than that in your hand, Martin, and certain kickshaws 
 I shall buy for a crown.' 
 
 Martin looked at his bow, and turned it round in 
 his hand ; and seemed to interrogate it. But the 
 examination left him as incredulous as before. 
 
 Then Peter told them his story, how the faithful 
 squire got the knight out of a high tower at Brescia. 
 The manoeu\Te, like most things that are really 
 scientific, was so simple, that now their wonder was 
 they had taken for impossible a thing which was not 
 even difficult. 
 
 The letter never went to Rotterdam. They trusted 
 to Peter's learning and their own dexterity. 
 
 It was nine o'clock on a clear moonlight night ; 
 Gerard, senior, was still away ; the rest of his little 
 family had been sometime a-bed. 
 
 A figure stood by the dwarf's bed. It was white, 
 and the moonlight shone on it. 
 
 With an unearthly noise, between a yell and a snarl, 
 the gymnast rolled off his bed and under it by a single 
 unbroken movement. A soft voice followed him in 
 his retreat.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 90 
 
 ' Why, Giles, are you afeard of me ? ' 
 
 At this, Giles's head peeped cautiously out, and he 
 saw it was only his sister Kate. 
 
 She put her finger to her lips. ' Hush ! lest the 
 wicked Cornelis or the wicked Sybrandt hear us.' 
 
 She then revealed to Giles, that she had heard 
 Cornelis and Sybrandt mention Gerard's name ; and 
 being herself in great anxiety at his not coming home 
 all day, had listened at their door, and had made 
 a fearful discovery. Gerard was in prison, in the 
 haunted tower of the Stadthouse. He was there it 
 seemed by their father's authority. But here must 
 be some treachery ; for how could their father have 
 ordered this cruel act ? he was at Rotterdam. She 
 ended by entreating Giles to bear her company to the 
 foot of the haunted tower, to say a word of comfort 
 to poor Gerard, and let him know their father was 
 absent, and would be sure to release him on his 
 return. 
 
 ' Dear Giles, I would go alone, but I am afeard of 
 the spirits that men say do haunt the tower : but 
 with you I shall not be afeard.' 
 
 ' Nor I with you,' said Giles. ' I don't believe there 
 are any spirits in Tergou. I never saw one. This 
 last was the likest one ever I saw ; and it was only you, 
 Kate, after all.' 
 
 In less than half an hour Giles and Kate opened 
 the house door cautiously and issued forth. She made 
 him carry a lantern, though the night was bright. 
 ' The lantern gives me more courage against the 
 evil spirits,' said she. 
 
 The first day of imprisonment is very trying, 
 especially if to the horror of captivity is added the 
 horror of utter solitude. I observe that in our own 
 day a great many persons commit suicide during 
 
 H 2
 
 100 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 the first twenty-four hours of the solitary cell. This 
 is doubtless why our Jairi abstain so carefully from 
 the impertinence of watching their little experiment 
 upon the human soul at that stage of it. 
 
 As the sun declined, Gerard's heart too sank and 
 sank : with the waning light, even the embers of 
 hope went out. He was faint, too, with hunger ; for 
 he was afraid to eat the food Ghysbrecht had brought 
 him : and hunger alone cows men. He sat upon the 
 chest, his arms and his head drooping before him, 
 a picture of despondency. Suddenly something struck 
 the wall beyond him very sharply, and then rattled 
 on the floor at his feet. It was an arrow ; he saw the 
 white feather. A chill ran through him — they meant 
 then to assassinate him from the outside. He crouched. 
 No more missiles came. He crawled on all fours, and 
 took up the arrow : there was no head to it. He 
 uttered a cry of hope : had a friendly hand shot it ? 
 He took it up, and felt it all over : he found a soft 
 substance attached to it. Then one of his eccen- 
 tricities was of grand use to him. His tinder-box 
 enabled him to strike a light : it showed him two 
 things that made his heart bound with delight, none 
 the less thrilling for being somewhat vague. Attached 
 to the arrow was a skein of silk, and on the arrow 
 itself were words written. 
 
 How his eye devoured them, his heart panting the 
 while ! 
 
 "Clflell beloveD, mafte fast tbe silk to tbg lintfe auD 
 lower to us : but bolO tbg eiiD fast : tben count an 
 bunDreD anD Draw up. 
 
 Gerard seized the oak chest, and with almost super- 
 human energy dragged it to the window : a moment 
 ago he could not have moved it. Standing on the 
 chest and looking down he saw figures at the lower 
 foot. They were so indistinct they looked like one
 
 CHAPTER XIV 101 
 
 huge form. He waved his bonnet to them with 
 trembhng hand : then he undid the silk rapidly but 
 carefully, and made one end fast to his knife and 
 lowered it till it ceased to draw. Then he counted 
 a hundred. Then pulled the silk carefully up : it 
 came up a little heavier. At last he came to a 
 large knot, and by that knot a stout whipcord 
 was attached to the silk. What might this mean ? 
 While he was puzzling himself Margaret's voice 
 came up to him, low but clear. ' Draw up, Gerard, 
 till you see liberty in your hand.' At the word 
 Gerard drew the whipcord line up, and drew and 
 drew till he came to another knot, and found 
 a cord of some thickness take the place of the whip- 
 cord. He had no sooner begun to draw this up than 
 he found that he had now a heavy weight to deal with. 
 Then the truth suddenly flashed on him, and he went 
 to work, and pulled and pulled till the perspiration 
 rolled down him : the weight got heavier and heavier, 
 and at last he was wellnigh exhausted ; looking down 
 he saw in the moonlight a sight that revived him : it 
 was as it were a great snake coming up to him out 
 of the deep shadow cast by the tower. He gave 
 a shout of joy, and a score more wild pulls, and lo ! 
 a stout new rope touched his hand : he hauled and 
 hauled, and dragged the end into his power and 
 instantly passed it through both handles of the chest 
 in succession, and knotted it firmly ; then sat for a 
 moment to recover his breath and collect his courage. 
 The first thing was to make sure that the chest was 
 sound, and capable of resisting his weight poised in 
 mid-air. He jumped with all his force upon it. At 
 the third jump the whole side burst open, and out 
 scuttled the contents, a host of parchments. 
 
 After the first start and misgiving this gave him, 
 Gerard comprehended that the chest had not burst
 
 102 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 but opened : he had doubtless jumped upon the 
 secret spring. Still it shook in some degree his con- 
 fidence in the chest's powers of resistance ; so he 
 gave it an ally : he took the iron bar and fastened it 
 with the small rope across the large rope, and across 
 the window. He now mounted the chest, and from 
 the chest put his foot through the window, and sat 
 half in and half out, with one hand on that part of 
 the rope which was inside. It was a nervous moment ; 
 but the free air breathed on his face and gave him the 
 courage to risk what we must all lose one day — for 
 liberty. Many dangers awaited him, but the greatest 
 was the first getting on to the rope outside. Gerard 
 reflected. Finally he put himself in the attitude of 
 a swimmer, his body to the waist being in the prison, 
 his legs outside. Then holding the inside rope with 
 both hands, he felt with his feet for the outside rope, 
 and when he had got it he worked it in between the 
 palms of his feet, and kept it there tight : then he 
 put his left hand on the sill and gradually wriggled out. 
 Then he seized the iron bar and for one fearful moment 
 hung outside from it by his right hand, while his left 
 hand seized the rope down at his knees. It was too 
 tight against the wall for his fingers to get round it 
 higher up. The next moment he left the bar and 
 swiftly seized the rope with the right hand too ; but 
 in this manoeuvre his body necessarily descended 
 about a yard, and a stifled cry came up from below. 
 Gerard hung in mid-air. He clenched his teeth, and 
 nipped the rope tight with his feet and gripped it 
 with his hands, and went down slowly hand below 
 hand. He passed by one huge rough stone after 
 another. He saw there was green moss on one or 
 two. He looked up and he looked down. The moon 
 shone upon his prison window : it seemed very near. 
 The fluttering figures below seemed an awful distance.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 103 
 
 It made him dizzy to look down : so he fixed his eyes 
 steadily on the wall close to him, and went slowly 
 down, down, down. 
 
 He passed a rusty slimy streak on the wall, it was 
 some ten feet long. The rope made his hands very 
 hot. He stole another look up. 
 
 The prison window was a good way off, now. 
 
 Down — down — down — down. 
 
 The rope made his hands sore. 
 
 He looked up. The window was so distant, he 
 ventured now to turn his eyes downward again : and 
 then, not more than thirty feet below him were 
 Margaret and Martin, their faithful hands upstretched 
 to catch him should he fall. He could see their eyes 
 and their teeth shine. 
 
 ' Take care, Gerard ! Oh, take care ! Look not 
 down.' 
 
 'Fear me not,' cried Gerard, joyfully, and eyed 
 the wall, but came down faster. 
 
 In another minute his feet were at their hands. 
 They seized him ere he touched the ground, and all 
 three clung together in one rapturous, panting 
 embrace. 
 
 ' Hush ! away in silence, dear one.' 
 
 They stole along the shadow of the wall. 
 
 But ere they had gone many yards suddenly 
 a stream of light shot from an angle of the building, 
 and lay across their path like a barrier of fire, and 
 they heard whispers and footsteps close at hand. 
 
 ' Back ! ' hissed Martin. ' Keep in the shade.' 
 
 They hurried back, passed the dangling rope, and 
 made for a little square projecting tower. They had 
 barely rounded it when the light shot trembling past 
 them, and flickered uncertainly into the distance. 
 
 ' A lantern ! ' groaned Martin, in a whisper. ' They 
 are after us.'
 
 104 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Give me my knife,' whispered Gerard. ' I'll never 
 be taken alive.' 
 
 ' No, no ! ' murmured Margaret : ' is there no 
 way out where we are ? ' 
 
 ' None, none ! but I carry six lives at my shoulder : ' 
 and with the word, Martin strung his bow, and fitted 
 an arrow to the string : ' in war never wait to be 
 struck : I will kill one or two ere they shall know 
 where their death comes from : ' then, motioning his 
 companions to be quiet, he began to draw his bow, 
 and ere the arrow was quite drawn to the head, he 
 glided round the corner ready to loose the string the 
 moment the enemy should offer a mark. 
 
 Gerard and Margaret palpitated. They had never 
 6een life taken. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ' I HOPE 'tis the Burgomaster that carries the light,' 
 said the escaped prisoner, panting with a strange 
 mixture of horror and exultation. The soldier, he 
 knew, would send an arrow through a burgher or 
 a burgomaster, as he would through a boar in a wood. 
 
 But who may foretell the future, however near ? 
 The bow instead of remaining firm, and loosing the 
 deadly shaft, was seen to waver first, then shake 
 violently, and the stout soldier staggered back to 
 them, his knees knocking and his cheeks blanched 
 with fear. He let his arrow fall, and clutched 
 Gerard's shoulder. 
 
 ' Let me feel flesh and blood,' he gasped : ' the 
 haunted tower ! the haunted tower ! ' 
 
 His terror communicated itself to Margaret and 
 Gerard. They could hardly find breath to ask him 
 what he had seen.
 
 106 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Hush ! ' he cried, ' it will hear you. Uf the wall ! 
 it is going up the wall ! Its head is on fire. Up the 
 wall, as mortal creatures walk upon green sward. 
 If you know a prayer say it ! For hell is loose to- 
 night.' 
 
 ' I have power to exorcise spirits,' said Gerard, 
 trembling. ' I will venture forth.' 
 
 ' Go alone, then ! ' said Martin, ' I have looked 
 on 't once and live.' 
 
 Gerard stepped forth, and Margaret seized his hand 
 and held it convulsively, and they crept out. 
 
 Sure enough a sight struck their eyes that benumbed 
 them as they stood. Half-way up the tower, a crea- 
 ture with fiery head, like an enormous glow-worm, 
 was going steadily up the wall : the body was dark, 
 but its outline visible, and the whole creature not 
 nmch less than four feet long. 
 
 At the foot of the tower stood a thing in white, 
 that looked exactly like the figure of a female. Gerard 
 and Margaret palpitated with awe. 
 
 ' The rope — the rope ! It is going up the rope — 
 not the wall,' gasped Gerard. 
 
 As they gazed, the glow-worm disappeared in 
 Gerard's late prison, but its light illuminated the cell 
 inside and reddened the window. The white figure 
 stood motionless below. 
 
 Such as can retain their senses after the first pros- 
 trating effect of the supernatural, are apt to experience 
 terror in one of its strangest forms, a wild desire to 
 fling themselves upon the terrible object. It fascinates 
 them as the snake the bird. The great tragedian 
 Macready used to render this finely in Macbeth at 
 Banquo's second appearance. He flung himself with 
 averted head at the horrible shadow. This strange 
 impulse now seized Margaret. She put down Gerard's 
 hand quietly, and stood fascinated ; then, all in a
 
 CHAPTER XV 107 
 
 moment, with a wild cry, darted towards the spectre. 
 Gerard, not aware of the natural impulse I have 
 spoken of, never doubted the evil one was drawing 
 her to her perdition. He fell on his knees. 
 
 ' Exorcizo^vos. In nomine beatae Mariae, exorcizo 
 vos.' 
 
 While he was shrieking his incantations in extremity 
 of terror, to his infinite relief he heard the spectre 
 utter a feeble cry of fear. To find that hell had also 
 its little weaknesses was encouraging. He redoubled 
 his exorcisms, and presently he saw the shape kneeling 
 at Margaret's knees, and heard it praying piteously 
 for mercy. 
 
 Poor little spectre ! It took Margaret for the ill 
 spirit of the haunted tower, come flying out on it— 
 to damn it. 
 
 Kate and Giles soon reached the haunted tower. 
 Judge their surprise when they found a new rope 
 dangling from the prisoner's window to the ground. 
 
 ' I see how it is,' said the inferior intelligence 
 taking facts as they came. ' Our Gerard has come 
 down this rope. He has got clear. Up I go, and see.' 
 
 ' No, Giles, no ! ' said the superior intelligence 
 blinded by prejudice. ' See you not this is glamour. 
 This rope is a line the evil one casts out to wile you to 
 destruction. He knows the weaknesses of all our 
 hearts ; he has seen how fond you are of going up 
 things. Where should our Gerard procure a rope ? 
 how fasten it in the very sky like that ? It is not in 
 nature. Holy saints protect us this night, for hell is 
 abroad.' 
 
 ' Stuff ! ' said the dwarf : ' the way to hell is down, 
 and this rope leads up. I never had the luck to go 
 up such a long rope. It may be years ere I fall in 
 with such a long rope all ready fastened for mc.
 
 108 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 As well be knocked on the head at once as never 
 know enjoyment.' 
 
 And he sprung on to the rope with a cry of delight, 
 as a cat jumps with a mew on a table where fish is. 
 All the gymnast was on fire ; and the only concession 
 Kate could gain from him was permission to fasten 
 the lantern on his neck first. 
 
 ' A light scares the ill spirits,' said she. 
 
 And so, with his huge arms, and legs like feathers, 
 Giles went up the rope faster than his brother came 
 down it. The light at the nape of his neck made 
 a glow-worm of him. His sister watched his progress 
 with trembling anxiety. Suddenly a female figure 
 started out of the solid masonry, and came flying at 
 her with more than mortal velocity. 
 
 Kate uttered a feeble cry. It was all she could, 
 for her tongue clove to her palate with terror. Then 
 she dropped her crutches, and sank upon her knees, 
 hiding her face and moaning : 
 
 ' Take my body, but spare my soul ! ' &c. 
 
 Margaret (panting). ' Why it is a woman ! ' 
 
 Kate (quivering). ' Why it is a woman ! ' 
 
 Margaret. ' How you frightened me.' 
 
 Kate. ' I am frightened enough myself. Oh ! 
 oh ! oh ! ' 
 
 ' This is strange. But the fiery-headed thing ! 
 Yet it was with you, and you are harmless. But 
 why are you here at this time of night ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, why are you ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps we are on the same errand ? Ah ! you 
 are his good sister, Kate.' 
 
 ' And you are Margaret Brandt.' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' All the better. You love him : you are here. 
 Then Giles was right. He has escaped.' 
 
 Gerard came forward, and put the question at rest.
 
 CHAPTER XV 109 
 
 But all further explanation was cut short by a horrible 
 unearthly cry, like a sepulchre exulting aloud: 
 
 ' Parchment ! — Parchment !— Parchment ! ' 
 
 At each repetition it rose in intensity . They looked 
 up, and there was the dwarf with his hands full of 
 parchments," and his face lighted with fiendish joy, 
 and lurid with diabolical fire. The light being at his 
 neck, a more infernal ' transparency ' never startled 
 mortal eye. With the word the awful imp hurled 
 the parchment down at the astonished heads 
 below. Down came the records, like wounded wild 
 ducks, some collapsed, others fluttering, and others 
 spread out and wheeling slowly down in airy circles. 
 They had hardly settled, when again the sepulchral 
 roar was heard : ' Parchment ! — Parchment ! ' and 
 down pattered and sailed another flock of docu- 
 ments — another followed : they whitened the grass. 
 Finally, the fke-headed imp, with his light body 
 and horny hands, slid down the rope like a falling 
 star, and (business before sentiment) proposed to 
 Gerard an immediate settlement for the merchandise 
 he had just delivered. 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said Gerard ; ' you speak too loud. 
 Gather them up and follow us to a safer place than 
 this.' 
 
 ' Will you not come home with me, Gerard ? ' 
 
 ' I have no home.' 
 
 ' You shall not say so, Gerard. Who is more 
 welcome than you will be, after this cruel wrong, to 
 your father's house ? ' 
 
 ' Father ? I have no father,' said Gerard, sternly. 
 ' He that was my father is turned my gaoler. I have 
 e-scaped from his hands ; I will never come within 
 their reach again.' 
 
 ' An enemy did this, and not our father,' said Kate. 
 
 And she told him what she had overheard Cornells
 
 110 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 and Sybrandt say. But the injury was too recent 
 to be soothed. Gerard showed a bitterness of indig- 
 nation he had hitherto seemed incapable of. 
 
 ' Cornehs and Sybrandt are two ill curs that have 
 shown me their teeth and their heart a long while ; 
 but they could do no more. My father it is that 
 gave the Burgomaster authority, or he durst not have 
 laid a finger on me, that am a free burgher of this 
 town. So be it, then. I was his son — I am his 
 prisoner. He has played his part — I shall play mine. 
 Farewell the town where I was born and lived honestly, 
 and was put in prison. While there is another town 
 left in creation, I'll never trouble you again, Tergou.' 
 
 ' Oh, Gerard ! Gerard ! ' 
 
 Margaret whispered her : ' Do not gainsay him 
 now. Give his choler time to cool ! ' 
 
 Kate turned quickly towards her. ' Let me look 
 at your face ! ' The inspection was favourable, it 
 seemed, for she whispered : ' It is a comely face, 
 and no mischief-maker's.' 
 
 ' Fear me not,' said Margaret, in the same tone. 
 ' I could not be happy without your love as well as 
 Gerard's.' 
 
 ' These are comfortable words,' sobbed Kate. 
 Then, looking up, she said, ' I little thought to like 
 you so well. My heart is willing, but my infirmity 
 will not let me embrace you.' 
 
 At this point Margaret turned gently round to 
 Gerard's sister, and kissed her lovingly. 
 
 ' Often he has spoken of you to me, Kate, and 
 often I longed for this.' 
 
 ' You, too, Gerard,' said Kate, ' kiss me ere you go, 
 for my heart lies heavy at parting with you this 
 night.' 
 
 Gerard kissed her, and she went on her crutches 
 home. The last thing they heard of her was a little
 
 CHAPTER XV 111 
 
 patient sigh. Then the tears came and stood thick 
 in Margaret's eyes ; but Gerard was a man, and 
 noticed it not. 
 
 As they turned to go to Sevenbergen, the dwarf 
 nudged Gerard with his bundle of parchments, and 
 sought remuneration. 
 
 Margaret dissuaded Gerard. ' Why take what is 
 not ours ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! spoil an enemy how you can.' 
 
 ' But may they not make this a handle for fresh 
 violence ? ' 
 
 ' How can they ? Think you I shall stay in Tergou 
 after this ? The Burgomaster robbed me of my 
 liberty ; I would take his life for it if I could.' 
 
 ' Oh fie, Gerard ! ' 
 
 ' What ? Is life worth more than liberty ? Well, 
 I can't take his life, so 1 take the first thing that 
 comes to hand.' 
 
 He gave Giles a few small coins, with which the 
 urchin was gladdened, and shuffled after his sister. 
 Margaret and Gerard were speedily joined by Martin, 
 and away to Sevenbergen. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Ghysbrecht Van Swieten kept the key of Gerard's 
 prison in his pouch. He waited till ten of the clock 
 ere he visited him ; for he said to himself, ' A little 
 hunger sometimes does well ; it breaks them.' At 
 ten he crept up the stairs with a loaf and pitcher, 
 followed by his trusty servant well armed. Ghys- 
 brecht li.stened at the door. There was no sound 
 inside. A grim smile stole over his features. 'By this 
 time he will be as downhearted as Albert Koestein 
 was,' thought he. He opened the door.
 
 112 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 No Gerard. 
 
 Ghysbrecht stood stupefied. 
 
 Although his face was not visible, his body seemed 
 to lose all motion in so peculiar a way, and then 
 after a little he fell a trembling so, that the servant 
 behind him saw there was something amiss, and crept 
 close to him and peeped over his shoulder. At sight 
 of the empty cell and the rope, and iron bar, he 
 uttered a loud exclamation of wonder : but his 
 surprise doubled when his master, disregarding all 
 else, suddenly flung himself on his knees before the 
 empty chest, and felt wildly all over it with quivering 
 hands, as if unwilling to trust his eyes in a matter 
 so important. 
 
 The servant gazed at him in utter bewilderment. 
 
 ' Why, master, what is the matter ? ' 
 
 Ghysbrecht's pale lips worked as if he was going 
 to answer ; but they uttered no sound : his hands 
 fell by his side, and he stared into the chest. 
 
 ' Why, master, what avails glaring into that empty 
 box ? He is not there. See here ! Note the cunning 
 of the young rogue ; he hath taken out the bar, 
 and ' 
 
 ' GONE ! GONE ! GONE ! ' 
 
 ' Gone ? What is gone ? Holy saints ! he is planet 
 struck.' 
 
 'STOP THIEF!' shrieked Ghysbrecht, and 
 suddenly turned on his servant and collared him, and 
 shook him with rage. ' D'ye stand there, knave, and 
 see your master robbed ? Run ! fly ! A hundi'ed 
 crowns to him that finds it me again. No, no ! 'tis 
 in vain. Oh, fool ! fool ! to leave that in the same 
 room with him. But none ever found the secret 
 spring before. None ever would but he. It was to 
 be. It is to be. Lost ! lost ! ' And his years and 
 infirmity now gained the better of his short-lived
 
 CHAPTER XVI 113 
 
 frenzy, and he sank on the chest muttering ' lost ! 
 lost ! ' 
 
 ' What is lost, master ? ' said the servant kindly. 
 
 ' House and lands and good name : ' groaned 
 Ghysbrecht, and wi'ung his hands feebly. 
 
 ' What ? ' cried the servant. 
 
 This emphatic word and the tone of eager curiosity 
 struck on Ghysbrecht' s ear, and revived his natural 
 cunning. 
 
 ' I have lost the town records,' stammered he, and 
 he looked askant at the man like a fox caught near 
 a hen-roost. 
 
 ' Oh, is that all ? ' 
 
 ' Is 't not enough ? What will the burghers say 
 to me ? What will the burgh do ? ' Then he suddenly 
 burst out again, ' A hundred crowns to him who 
 shall recover them ; all, mind, all that were in this 
 box. If one be missing, I give nothing.' 
 
 ' 'Tis a bargain, master : the hundred crowns are 
 in my pouch. See you not that where Gerard 
 Gerardssoen is, there are the pieces of sheepskin you 
 rate so high ? ' 
 
 ' That is true ; that is true ; good Dierich : good 
 faithful Dierich ! All, mind, all, that were in the chest.' 
 
 ' Master, I will take the constables to Gerard's 
 house and seize him for the theft.' 
 
 ' The theft ? aye ! good ! very good ! It is theft. 
 I forgot that. So as he is a thief now, we will put 
 him in the dungeons below : where the toads are and 
 the rats. Dierich, that man must never see daylight 
 again. 'Tis his own fault. He must be prying. 
 Quick, quick ! ere he has time to talk, you know, 
 time to talk.' 
 
 In less than half an hour Dierich Brower and four 
 constables entered the hosier's house and demanded 
 young Gerard of the panic-stricken Catherine. 
 
 READE J
 
 114 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Alas ! what has he done now ? ' cried she : ' that 
 boy will break my heart.' 
 
 ' Nay, dame, but a trick of youth,' said Dierich. 
 ' He hath but made oif with certain skins of parch- 
 ment, in a frolic doubtless ; but the Burgomaster is 
 answerable to the burgh for their safe keeping, so 
 he is in care about them : as for the youth, he will 
 doubtless be quit for a reprimand.' 
 
 This smooth speech completely imposed on Cath- 
 erine ; but her daughter was more suspicious, and 
 that suspicion was strengthened by the dispropor- 
 tionate anger and disappointment Dierich showed the 
 moment he learned Gerard was not at home — had not 
 been at home that night. 
 
 ' Come away, then,' said he, roughly. ' We are 
 wasting time.' He added, vehemently, ' I'll find him 
 if he is above ground.' 
 
 Affection sharpens the wits, and often it has made 
 an innocent person more than a match for the wily. 
 As Dierich was going out, Kate made him a signal 
 she would speak with him privately. He bade his 
 men go on, and waited outside the door. She joined 
 him. 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said she, ' my mother knows not. Gerard 
 has left Tergou.' 
 
 ' How ! ' 
 
 ' I saw him last night.' 
 
 ' Aye ? Where ? ' cried Dierich, eagerly. 
 
 ' At the foot of the haunted tower.' 
 
 ' How did he get the rope ? ' 
 
 ' I know not ; but this I know ; my brother 
 Gerard bade me there farewell, and he is many 
 leagues from Tergou ere this. The town, you know, 
 was always unworthy of him, and when it imprisoned 
 him he vowed never to set foot in it again. Let the 
 Burgomaster be content, then. He has imprisoned
 
 CHAPTER XVI 115 
 
 him, and he has driven him from his birthplace and 
 from his native land. What need now to rob him 
 and us of our good name ? ' 
 
 This might at another moment have struck Dierich 
 as good sense ; but he was too mortified at this 
 escape of Gerard and the loss of a hundred crowns. 
 
 ' What need had he to steal ? ' retorted he, bitterly. 
 
 ' Gerard stole not the trash : he but took it to 
 spite the Burgomaster, who stole his liberty ; but he 
 shall answer to the Duke for it, he shall. Look in 
 the nearest brook or stye, and maybe you shall find 
 these skins of parchment you keep such a coil about.' 
 
 ' Think ye so, mistress ? — think ye so ? ' And 
 Dierich's eyes flashed. ' Mayhap you know 'tis so.' 
 
 ' This I know, that Gerard is too good to steal, and 
 too wise to load himself with rubbish, going a journey.' 
 
 ' Give you good day, then,' said Dierich, sharply. 
 The sheepskin you scorn, I value it more than the 
 skin of any he in Tergou.' 
 
 And he went off hastily on a false scent. 
 
 Kate returned into the house and drew Giles aside. 
 
 ' Giles, my heart misgives me ; breathe not to 
 a soul what I say to you. I have told Dirk Brower 
 that Gerard is out of Holland, but much I doubt he 
 is not a league from Tergou.' 
 
 ' Why, where is he, then ? ' 
 
 * Where should he be, but with her he loves ? But 
 if so he must not loiter. These be deep and dark 
 and wicked men that seek him. Giles, I see that in 
 Dirk Brower's eye makes me tremble. Oh ! why 
 cannot I fly to Sevenbergen, and bid him away ? Why 
 am I not lusty and active like other girls ? God for- 
 give me for fretting at His will : but I never felt 
 till now what it is to be lame and weak and useless. 
 But you are strong, dear Giles,' added she coaxingly — 
 ' you are very strong.' 
 
 12
 
 116 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Yes, I am strong ! ' thundered Perpusillus ; then, 
 catching sight of her meaning, ' but I hate to go on 
 foot,' he added, sulkily. 
 
 ' Alas ! alas ! who will help me if you will not ? 
 Dear Giles, do you not love Gerard ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I like him best of the lot. I'll go to Seven- 
 bergen on Peter Buysken his mule. Ask you him, 
 for he won't lend her me.' 
 
 Kate remonstrated. The whole town would follow 
 him. It would be known whither he was gone, and 
 Gerard be in worse danger than before. 
 
 Giles parried this by promising to ride out of the 
 town the opposite way, and not turn the mule's head 
 towards Sevenbergen till he had got rid of the curious. 
 
 Kate then assented, and borrowed the mule. She 
 charged Giles with a short but meaning message, and 
 made him repeat it after her, over and over, till he 
 could say it word for word. 
 
 Giles started on the mule, and little Kate retired, 
 and did the last thing now in her power for her 
 beloved brother ; prayed on her knees long and 
 earnestly for his safety. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Gerard and Margaret went gaily to Sevenbergen 
 in the first flush of recovered liberty, and success- 
 ful adventure. But these soon yielded to sadder 
 thoughts. Neither of them attached any importance 
 to the abstraction of the sheepskins : but Gerard 
 was an escaped prisoner, and liable to be retaken 
 and perhaps punished ; and therefore he and Margaret 
 would have to part for a time. Moreover he had 
 conceived a hatred to his native place. Margaret 
 wished him to leave the country for a while, but at
 
 CHAPTER XVII 117 
 
 the thought of his going to Italy her heart fainted. 
 Gerard, on the contrary, was reconciled to leaving 
 Margaret only by his desire to visit Italy, and his 
 strong conviction that there he should earn money 
 and reputation, and remove every obstacle to their 
 marriage. He had already told her all that the 
 demoiselle Van Eyck had said to him. He repeated it, 
 and reminded Margaret that the gold pieces were 
 only given him to go to Italy with. The journey to 
 Italy was clearly for Gerard's interest. He was 
 a craftsman and an artist, lost in this boorish place. 
 In Italy they would know how to value him. On 
 this ground, above all, the unselfish girl gave her con- 
 sent : but many tender tears came with it, and at 
 that Gerard, young and loving as herself, cried 
 bitterly with her, and often they asked one another 
 what they had done, that so many different persons 
 should be their enemies, and combine, as it seemed, 
 to part them. 
 
 They sat hand in hand till midnight, now deploring 
 their hard fate, now drawing bright and hopeful 
 pictures of the future, in the midst of which Margaret's 
 tears would suddenly flow, and then poor Gerard's 
 eloquence would die away in a sigh. 
 
 The morning found them resigned to part, but 
 neither had the courage to say when ; and much 
 I doubt whether the hour of parting ever would have 
 struck. 
 
 But about three in the afternoon, Giles, who had 
 made a circuit of many miles to avoid suspicion, 
 rode up to the door. They both ran out to him, 
 eager with curiosity. He soon turned that light 
 feeling to dismay. 
 
 ' Brother Gerard,' cried he, in his tremendous tones, 
 ' Kate bids you run for your life. They charge you 
 with theft ; you have given them a liandle. Think
 
 118 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 not to explain. Hope not for justice in Tergou ! 
 The parchments you took they are but a blind. She 
 hath seen your death in the men's eyes : a price is 
 on your head. Fly ! For Margaret's sake and all who 
 love you, loiter not life away, but fly ! ' 
 
 It was a thunder-clap, and left two pale faces 
 looking at one another, awestruck. 
 
 Then Giles, who had hitherto but uttered by rote 
 what Catherine bade him, put in a word of his own. 
 
 ' All the constables were at our house after you, 
 and so was Dirk Brower. Kate is wise, Gerard. 
 Best give ear to her rede, and fly.' 
 
 ' Oh, yes ! Gerard,' cried Margaret, wildly. ' Fly 
 on the instant. Ah ! those parchments ; my mind 
 misgave me : why did I let you take them ? ' 
 
 ' Margaret, they are but a blind : Giles says so : 
 no matter, the old caitiff shall never see them again ; 
 I will not go till I have hidden his treasure where 
 he shall never find it.' Gerard then, after thanking 
 Giles warmly, bade him farewell, and told him to 
 go back, and tell Kate he was gone. ' For I shall 
 be gone, ere you reach home,' said he. He shouted 
 for Martin ; and told him what had happened, and 
 begged him to go a little way towards Tergou, and 
 watch the road. 
 
 ' Aye ! ' said Martin, ' and if I see Dirk Brower, 
 or any of his men, I will shoot an arrow into the 
 oak-tree that is in our garden ; and on that you 
 must run into the forest hard by, and meet me at 
 the wierd hunter's spring. Then I will guide you 
 through the wood.' 
 
 Surprise thus provided against, Gerard breathed 
 again. He went with Margaret, and while she 
 watched the oak-tree tremblingly, fearing every 
 moment to see an arrow strike among the branches, 
 Gerard dug a deep hole to bury the parchments in.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 119 
 
 He threw them in, one by one. They were nearly 
 all charters and records of the burgh : but one 
 appeared to be a private deed between Floris Brandt, 
 father of Peter, and Ghysbrecht. 
 
 ' Why this, is as much yours as his,' said Gerard. 
 ' I will read this.' 
 
 ' Oh, not now, Gerard, not now,' cried Margaret. 
 ' Every moment you lose fills me with fear ; and see, 
 large drops of rain are beginning to fall, and the clouds 
 lower.' 
 
 Gerard yielded to this remonstrance : but he 
 put the deed into his bosom, and threw the earth 
 in over the others, and stamped it down. While 
 thus employed there came a flash of lightning 
 followed by a peal of distant thunder, and the rain 
 came down heavily. Margaret and Gerard ran into 
 the house, whither they were speedily followed by 
 Martin. 
 
 ' The road is clear,' said he, ' and a heavy storm 
 coming on.' 
 
 His words proved true. The thunder came nearer 
 and nearer till it crashed overhead : the flashes 
 followed one another close, like the strokes of a whip, 
 and the rain fell in torrents. Margaret hid her face 
 not to see the lightning. On this, Gerard put up 
 the rough shutter, and lighted a candle. The lovers 
 consulted together, and Gerard blessed the storm that 
 gave him a few hours more with Margaret. The sun 
 set unperceived, and still the thunder pealed, and the 
 lightning flashed, and the rain poured. Supper was 
 set ; but Gerard and Margaret could not eat : the 
 thought that this was the last time they should sup 
 together, choked them. The storm lulled a little. 
 Peter retired to rest. But Gerard was to go at peep 
 of day, and neither he nor Margaret could afford to 
 lose an hour in sleep. Martin sat up a while, too :
 
 120 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 for he was fitting a new string to his bow, a matter 
 in which he was very nice. 
 
 The lovers murmured their sorrows and their love 
 beside him. 
 
 Suddenly the old man held up his hand to them to 
 be silent. 
 
 They were quiet and listened, and heard nothing. 
 But the next moment a footstep crackled faintly upon 
 the autumn leaves that lay strewn in the garden at 
 the back door of the house. To those who had 
 nothing to fear such a step would have said nothing : 
 but to those who had enemies it was terrible. For 
 it was a foot trying to be noiseless. 
 
 Martin fitted an arrow to his string, and hastily 
 blew out the candle. At this moment, to their 
 horror, they heard more than one footstep approach 
 the other door of the cottage, not quite so noiselessly 
 as the other, but very stealthily — and then a dead 
 pause. Their blood almost froze in their veins. 
 
 ' Oh, Kate ! oh, Kate ! She said, fly on the instant ! ' 
 And Margaret moaned and wrung her hands in anguish 
 and terror and wild remorse. 
 
 ' Hush, girl ! ' said Martin, in a stern whisper ; 
 and even at that moment a heavy knock fell on the 
 door. 
 
 As if this had been a concerted signal, the back 
 door was struck as rudely the next instant. They 
 were hemmed in. But at these alarming sounds 
 Margaret seemed to recover some share of self- 
 possession. She whispered, ' Say he was here, but 
 is gone.' And with this she seized Gerard and almost 
 dragged him up the rude steps that led to her father's 
 sleeping-room. Her own lay next beyond it. 
 
 The blows on the door were repeated. 
 
 ' Who knocks at this hour ? ' 
 
 ' Oj)en, and you will see ! '
 
 CHAPTER XVII 121 
 
 ' I open not to thieves — honest men are all a-bed 
 now.' 
 
 ' Open to the law, Martin Wittenhaagen, or you 
 shall rue it.' 
 
 ' Why tha^ is Dirk Brower's voice, I trow. What 
 make you so far from Tergou ? ' 
 
 ' Open, and you will know.' 
 
 Martin drew the bolt, and in rushed Dierich and 
 four more. They let in their companion who was at 
 the back door. 
 
 ' Now, Martin, where is Gerard Gerardssoen ? ' 
 
 ' Gerard Gerardssoen ? Why he was here but now.' 
 
 ' Was here ? ' Dierich's countenance fell. ' And 
 where is he now ? ' 
 
 ' They sav he is gone to Italv. Why ? What is 
 to do ? ' "^ 
 
 ' No matter. When did he go ? Tell me not that 
 he went in such a storm as this ! ' 
 
 ' Here is a coil about Gerard Gerardssoen,' said 
 Martin, contemptuously. Then he lighted the candle, 
 and seating himself coolly by the fire, proceeded to 
 whip some fine silk round his bowstring at the place 
 where the nick of the arrow frets it. ' I'll tell you,' 
 said he, carelessly. ' Do you know his brother 
 Giles — a little misbegotten imp all head and arms ? 
 Well, he came tearing over here on a mule, and bawled 
 out something. I was too far off to hear the creature's 
 words, but I heard its noise. Any way, he started 
 Gerard. For as soon as he was gone, there was such 
 crying and kissing, and then Gerard went away. 
 They do tell me he is gone to Italy — mayhap you 
 know where that is, for I don't.' 
 
 Dierich's countenance fell lower and lower at this 
 account. There was no flaw in it. A cunninger 
 man than Martin would, perhaps, have told a lie too 
 many, and raised suspicion. But Martin did his task
 
 122 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 well. He only told the one falsehood he was bade 
 to tell, and of his own head invented nothing. 
 
 ' Mates,' said Dierich, ' I doubt he speaks sooth. 
 I told the Burgomaster how 'twould be. He met the 
 dwarf galloping Peter Buysken's mule from Seven- 
 bergen. " They have sent that imp to Gerard," says 
 he, " so, then, Gerard is at Sevenbergen." — " All, 
 master ! " says I, " 'tis too late now. We should 
 have thought of Sevenbergen before, instead of 
 wasting our time hunting all the odd corners of Tergou 
 for those cursed parchments that we shall never find 
 till we find the man that took 'em. If he was at 
 Sevenbergen," quoth I, " and they have sent the 
 dwarf to him, it must have been to warn him we are 
 after him. He is leagues away by now," quoth I. 
 " Confound that chalk-faced girl ! she has out- 
 witted us bearded men : " and so I told the Burgo- 
 master, but he would not hear reason. A wet jerkin 
 a-piece, that is all we shall get, mates, by this job.' 
 
 Martin grinned coolly in Dierich's face. 
 
 ' However,' added the latter, ' just to content the 
 Burgomaster, we will search the house.' 
 
 Martin turned grave directly. 
 
 This change of countenance did not escape Dierich. 
 He reflected a moment. 
 
 ' Watch outside two of you, one on each side of 
 the house, that no one jump from the upper windows. 
 The rest come with me.' 
 
 And he took the candle and mounted the stairs, 
 followed by three of his comrades. 
 
 Martin was left alone. 
 
 The stout soldier hung his head. All had gone so 
 well at first : and now this fatal turn! Suddenly it oc- 
 curred to him that all was not yet lost. Gerard must 
 be either in Peter's room or Margaret's ; they were 
 not so very high from the ground. Gerard would leap
 
 124 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 out. Dierich had left a man below ; but what then ? 
 For half a minute Gerard and he would be two to 
 one, and in that brief space, what might not be done ? 
 
 Martin then held the back door ajar and watched. 
 The light was in Peter's room. ' Curse the fool ! ' 
 said he, ' is he going to let them take him like a girl ? ' 
 
 The light passed now into Margaret's bedroom. 
 Still no window was opened. Had Gerard intended 
 to escape that way he would not have waited till 
 the men were in the room. Martin saw that at once, 
 and left the door, and came to the foot-stair and 
 listened. He began to think Gerard must have 
 escaped by the window while all the men were in 
 the house. The longer the silence continued the 
 stronger grew this conviction. But it was suddenly 
 and rudely dissipated. 
 
 Piercing shrieks issued from the inner bedroom, — 
 Margaret's. 
 
 ' They have taken him,' groaned Martin ; ' they 
 have got him.' 
 
 It flashed through Martin's mind in one moment 
 that if they took Gerard away his life was not worth 
 a button ; and that, if evil befell him, Margaret's 
 heart would break. He cast his eyes wildly round 
 like some savage beast seeking an escape, and in a 
 twinkling he formed a resolution terribly charac- 
 teristic of those iron times and of a soldier driven 
 to bay. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 He stepped to each door in turn, and imitating 
 Dirk Brower's voice, said sharply, ' Watch the 
 window ! ' He then quietly closed and bolted both 
 doors. He then took up his bow and six arrows ;
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 125 
 
 one he fitted to his string, the others he put into his 
 quiver. His knife he placed upon a chair behind him, 
 the hilt towards him ; and there he waited at the 
 foot of the stair with the calm determination to slay 
 those four men, or be slain by them. Two, he knew, 
 he could dispose of by his arrows, ere they could get 
 near him, and Gerard and he must take their chance, 
 hand-to-hand, with the remaining pair. Besides, he 
 had seen men panic-stricken by a sudden attack of 
 this sort. Should Brower and his men hesitate but 
 an instant, he should shoot three instead of two, 
 and then the odds would be on the right side. 
 
 He had not long to wait. The heavy steps sounded 
 in Margaret's room, and came nearer and nearer. 
 
 The light also approached, and voices. 
 
 Martin's heart, stout as it was, beat hard, to hear 
 men coming thus to their death, and, perhaps, to his ; 
 more likely so than not ; for four is long odds in a 
 battle-field of ten feet square, and Gerard might be 
 bound, perhaps, and powerless to help. But this 
 man, whom we have seen shake in his shoes at 
 a Giles-o'-lanthorn, never wavered in this awful 
 moment of real danger, but stood there, his body all 
 braced for combat, and his eye glowing, equally 
 ready to take life and lose it. Desperate game ! to 
 win which was exile instant and for life, and to lose it 
 was to die that moment upon that floor he stood on. 
 
 Dierich Brower and his men found Peter in his 
 first sleep. They opened his cupboards ; they ran 
 their knives into an alligator he had nailed to his 
 wall ; they looked under his bed : it was a large 
 room, and apparently full of hiding places, but they 
 found no Gerard. 
 
 Then they went on to Margaret's room, and the 
 very sight of it was discouraging — it was small and
 
 126 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 bare, and not a cupboard in it ; there was, however, 
 a large fireplace and chimney. Dierich's eye fell on 
 these directly. Here they found the beauty of 
 Sevenbergen sleeping on an old chest, not a foot 
 high, and no attempt made to cover it ; but the 
 sheets were snowy white, and so was Margaret's own 
 linen. And there she lay, looking like a lily fallen 
 into a rut. 
 
 Presently she awoke, and sat up in the bed, like 
 one amazed ; then, seeing the men, began to scream 
 violently, and pray for mercy. 
 
 She made Dierich Brower ashamed of his errand. 
 
 ' Here is a to-do,' said he, a little confused. ' We 
 are not going to hurt you, my pretty maid. Lie you 
 still, and shut your eyes, and think of your wedding- 
 night, while I look up this chimney to see if Master 
 Gerard is there.' 
 
 ' Gerard ! in my room ? ' 
 
 ' Why not ? They say that you and he ' 
 
 ' Cruel ; you know they have driven him away 
 from me — driven him from his native place. This 
 is a blind. You are thieves ; you are wicked men ; 
 you are not men of Sevenbergen, or you would know 
 Margaret Brandt better than to look for her lover in 
 this room of all others in the world. Oh brave ! 
 Four great hulking men to come, armed to the teeth, 
 to insult one poor honest girl ! The women that live 
 in your own houses must be naught, or you would re- 
 spect them too much to insult a girl of good character.' 
 
 ' There, come away, before we hear worse,' said 
 Dierich, hastily, ' He is not in the chimney. Plaister 
 will mend what a cudgel breaks ; but a woman's 
 tongue is a double-edged dagger, and a girl is a woman 
 with her mother's milk still in her.' And he beat 
 a hasty retreat. ' I told the Burgomaster how 
 'twould be.'
 
 127 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Where is the woman that cannot act a part ? 
 Where is she* who will not do it, and do it well, to 
 save the man she loves. Nature on these great 
 occasions comes to the aid of the simplest of the sex, 
 and teaches her to throw dust in Solomon's eyes. 
 The men had no sooner retired than Margaret 
 stepped out of bed and opened the long chest on which 
 she had been lying down in her skirt and petticoat 
 and stockings, and night-dress over all ; and put 
 the lid, bed-clothes and all, against the wall : then 
 glided to the door and listened. The footsteps died 
 away through her father's room, and down the stairs. 
 
 Now in that chest there was a peculiarity that it 
 was almost impossible for a stranger to detect. 
 A part of the boarding of the room had been broken, 
 and Gerard being applied to to make it look neater, 
 and being short of materials, had ingeniously sawed 
 away a space sufficient just to admit Margaret's 
 soi-disant bed, and with the materials thus acquired 
 he had repaired the whole room. As for the bed 
 or chest, it really rested on the rafters a foot below 
 the boards. Consequently it was full two feet deep, 
 though it looked scarce one. 
 
 All was quiet. Margaret kneeled and gave thanks 
 to Heaven. Then she glided from the door, and 
 leaned over the chest, and whispered tenderly, 
 ' Gerard ! ' 
 
 Gerard did not reply. 
 
 She then whispered, a little louder, ' Gerard, all is 
 safe, thank Heaven ! You may rise ; but, oh ! be 
 cautious ! ' 
 
 Gerard made no reply.
 
 128 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 She laid her hand upon his shoulder — ' Gerard ! ' 
 
 No reply. 
 
 ' Oh ! what is this ? ' she cried, and her hands 
 ran wildly over his face and his bosom. She took 
 him by the shoulders ; she shook him ; she lifted 
 him ; but he escaped from her trembling hands, 
 and fell back, not like a man, but like a body. A great 
 dread fell on her. The lid had been down. She had 
 lain upon it. The men had been some time in the 
 room. With all the strength of frenzy, she tore him 
 out of the chest. She bore him in her arms to the 
 window. She dashed the window open. The sweet 
 air came in. She laid him in it and in the moonlight. 
 His face was the colour of ashes, his body was all 
 limp and motionless. She felt his heart. Horror ! 
 it was as still as the rest ! Horror of horrors ! she 
 had stifled him with her own body ! 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 The mind cannot all at once believe so great and 
 sudden and strange a calamity. Gerard, who had 
 got alive into that chest scarce five minutes ago, how 
 could he be dead ? 
 
 She called him by all the endearing names that 
 heart could think, or tongue could frame. She 
 kissed him and fondled him and coaxed him and 
 implored him to speak to her. 
 
 No answer to words of love, such as she had never 
 uttered to him before, nor thought she could utter. 
 Then the poor creature, trembling all over, began to 
 say over that white face little foolish things that were 
 at once terrible and pitiable. 
 
 ' Oh, Gerard ! I am very sorry you are dead ! 
 I am very sorry I have killed you ! Forgive me
 
 CHAPTER XX 129 
 
 for not letting the men take you, it would have 
 been better than this ! Oh, Gerard ! I am very, 
 very sorry for what I have done ! ' Then she began 
 suddenly to rave. ' No ! no ! such things can't be, 
 or there is no God ! It is monstrous ! How can my 
 Gerard be dead ? How can I have killed my Gerard ? 
 I love him ! Oh, God ! you know how I love him ! 
 He does not. I never told him. If he knew my heart, 
 he would speak to me, he would not be so deaf to 
 his poor Margaret. It is all a trick to make me cry 
 out and betray him : but, no, I love him too well 
 for that. I'll choke first.' And she seized her own 
 throat, to check her wild desire to scream in her 
 terror and anguish. 
 
 ' If he would but say one word. Oh, Gerard ! 
 don't die without a word. Have mercy on me and 
 scold me ! but speak to me : if you are angry with 
 me, scold me ! curse me ! I deserve it : the idiot 
 that killed the man she loved better than herself. 
 Ah ! I am a murderess. The worst in all the world. 
 Help, help ! I have murdered him. Ah ! ah ! ah ! 
 ah ! ah ! ' 
 
 She tore her hair, and uttered shriek after shriek 
 so wild, so piercing, they fell like a knell upon the 
 ears of Dierich Brower and his men. All started to 
 their feet, and looked at one another. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Martin Wittenhaagen standing at the foot of 
 the stairs with his arrow drawn nearly to the head, 
 and his knife behind him, was struck with amazement 
 to see the men come back without Gerard : he 
 lowered his bow, and looked open-mouthed at them. 
 They, for their part, were equally surprised at the 
 attitude they had caught him in. 
 
 READE K
 
 130 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Why, mates, was the old fellow making ready to 
 shoot one of ms ? ' 
 
 ' Stufif ! ' said Martin, recovering his stolid com- 
 posure, ' I was but trying my new string. There, 
 I'll unstring my bow, if you think that.' 
 
 ' Humph ! ' said Dierich, suspiciously, ' there is 
 something more in you than I understand : put 
 a log on, and let us dry our hides a bit, ere we go.' 
 
 A blazing fire was soon made, and the men gathered 
 round it, and their clothes and long hair were soon 
 smoking from the cheerful blaze. Then it was that 
 the shrieks were heard in Margaret's room. They 
 all started up, and one of them seized the candle, 
 and ran up the steps that led to the bedrooms. 
 
 Martin rose hastily, too, and being confused by these 
 sudden screams, and apprehending danger from the 
 man's curiosity, tried to prevent him from going there. 
 
 At this Dierich threw his arms round him from 
 behind, and called on the others to keep him. The 
 man that had the candle got clear away, and all the 
 rest fell upon Martin, and after a long and fierce 
 struggle, in the course of which they were more than 
 once all rolling on the floor, with Martin in the middle, 
 they succeeded in mastering the old Samson, and 
 binding him hand and foot with a rope they had 
 brought for Gerard. 
 
 ' That is a good job,' said Dierich, pointing ; ' our 
 lives weren't safe while this old fellow's four bones 
 were free. He makes me think Gerard is hereabouts, 
 for all we can't find him. Hallo, mates ! Jorian 
 Ketel 's a long time in that girl's bedroom,' 
 
 The rude laugh caused by this remark, had hardly 
 subsided, when hasty footsteps were heard running 
 along overhead. 
 
 ' Oh ! here he comes, at last. Well, Jorian, what 
 is to do now ? '
 
 131 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 JoRiAN Ketel went straight to Margaret's room, 
 and there he found the man he had been in search of, 
 pale and motionless, his head in Margaret's lap, and 
 she kneeling over him, mute now, and stricken to 
 stone. Her eyes were dilated, yet glazed, and she 
 neither saw the light nor heard the man, nor cared 
 for anything on earth, but the white face in her lap, 
 
 Jorian stood awestruck, the candle shaking in his 
 hand. 
 
 Why, where was he, then, all the time ? 
 
 Margaret heeded him not. Jorian went to the 
 empty chest and inspected it. He began to com- 
 prehend. The girl's dumb and frozen despair moved 
 him. 
 
 ' This is a sorry sight,' said he : ' it is a black 
 night's work : all for a few skins ! Better have gone 
 with us than so. She is past answering me, poor 
 wench ! Stop — let us try.' 
 
 He took down a little round mirror, no bigger 
 than his hand, and put it to Gerard's mouth and 
 nostrils, and held it there. When he withdrew it, 
 it was dull. Jorian Ketel gave a joyful cry : 
 
 ' There is life in him, girl ! ' 
 
 At that word, it was as if a statue had started 
 into life and passion. Margaret rose, and flung her 
 arms round Jorian's neck. 
 
 ' Oh bless the tongue that tells me so ! ' and she 
 kissed the great rough fellow again and again, eagerly, 
 almost fiercely. 
 
 ' There, there ! let us lay him warm,' said Jorian ; 
 and in a moment he raised Gerard, and laid him on 
 the bed-clothes. Then he took out a flask he carried, 
 and filled his hand twice with Schiedamze, and flung 
 
 K 2
 
 132 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 it sharply each time in Gerard's face. The pungent 
 liquor co-operated with his recovery — he gave a faint 
 sigh. Oh, never was sound so joyful to human ear ! 
 She flew towards him, but then stopped, quivering 
 for fear she should hurt him. She had lost all con- 
 fidence in herself. 
 
 ' That is right — let him alone,' said Jorian : ' don't 
 go cuddling him as you did me, or you'll drive his 
 breath back again. Let him alone : he is sure to 
 come to. 'Tisn't like as if he was an old man.' 
 
 Gerard sighed deeply, and a faint streak of colour 
 stole to his lips. Jorian made for the door. He had 
 hardly reached it, when he found his legs seized from 
 behind. 
 
 It was Margaret ! She curled round his knees 
 like a serpent, and kissed his hand, and fawned on 
 him. ' You won't tell ? You have saved his life ; 
 you have not the heart to thrust him back into his 
 grave, to undo your 0T,vn good work ? ' 
 
 ' No, no ! It is not the first time I've done you 
 two a good turn ; 'twas I told you in the church 
 whither we had to take him. Besides, what is Dirk 
 Brower to me ? I'll see him hanged ere I'll tell him. 
 But I wish you'd tell me where the parchments are ? 
 There are a hundred crowns offered for them. That 
 would be a good windfall for my Joan and the 
 children, you know.' 
 
 ' Ah ! they shall have those hundred crowns,' 
 
 ' What ! are the things in the house ? ' asked 
 Jorian, eagerly. 
 
 ' No ; but I know where they are : and, by God and 
 St. Barsos, I swear you shall have them to-morrow. 
 Come to me for them when you will, but come 
 alone.' 
 
 ' I were mad, else. What ! share the hundred 
 crowns with Dirk Brower ? And now may my bones
 
 CHAPTER XXII 133 
 
 rot in my skin if I let a soul know the poor boy 
 is here ! ' 
 
 He then ran off, lest by staying longer he should 
 excite suspicion, and have them all after him. And 
 Margaret krjelt, quivering from head to foot, and 
 prayed beside Gerard, and for Gerard. 
 
 ' What is to do ? Why we have scared the girl 
 out of her wits. She was in a kind of fit.' 
 
 ' We had better all go and doctor her, then.' 
 
 ' Oh yes ! and frighten her into the churchyard. 
 Her father is a doctor, and I have roused him, and 
 set him to bring her round. Let us see the fire, 
 will ye ? ' 
 
 His off-hand way disarmed all suspicion. And soon 
 after the party agreed that the kitchen of the ' Three 
 Kings ' was much warmer than Peter's house, and 
 they departed, having first untied Martin. 
 
 ' Take note, mate, that I was right, and the Burgo- 
 master wrong,' said Dierich Brower, at the door : 
 ' I said we should be too late to catch him, and we 
 were too late.' 
 
 Thus Gerard, in one terrible night, grazed the prison 
 and the grave ! 
 
 And how did he get clear at last ? Not by his 
 cunningly-contrived hiding-place, nor by Margaret's 
 ready wit ; but by a good impulse in one of his 
 captors — by the bit of humanity left in a somewhat 
 reckless fellow's heart, aided by his desire of gain. 
 So mixed and seemingly incongruous are human 
 motives, so short-sighted our shrewdest counsels ! 
 
 They whose moderate natures, or gentle fates, keep 
 them in life's passage from the fierce extremes of 
 joy and anguish our nature is capable of, are perhaps
 
 134 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 the best, and certainly the happiest, of mankind. 
 But to such readers I should try in vain to convey 
 what bliss unspeakable settled now upon those 
 persecuted lovers. Even to those who have joyed 
 greatly, and greatly suffered, my feeble art can present 
 but a pale reminiscence, and a faint reflection of 
 Margaret's and Gerard's ecstasy. 
 
 To sit and see a beloved face come back from the 
 grave to the world, to health and beauty by swift 
 gradations ; to see the roses return to the loved cheek, 
 love's glance to the loved eye, and his words to the 
 loved mouth : this was Margaret's— a joy to balance 
 years of sorrow. It was Gerard's to awake from 
 a trance and find his head pillowed on Margaret's 
 arm ; to hear the woman he adored murmur new 
 words of eloquent love, and shower tears and tender 
 kisses and caresses on him. He never knew, till 
 this sweet moment, how ardently, how tenderly she 
 loved him. He thanked his enemies. They wreathed 
 their arms sweetly round each other, and trouble and 
 danger seemed a world, an age, behind them. They 
 called each other husband and wife. Had they not 
 stood before the altar together ? Was not the blessing 
 of Holy Church upon their union ? — her curse on all 
 who would part them ? 
 
 But as no woman's nerves can bear with impunity 
 so terrible a strain, presently Margaret turned faint, 
 and sank on Gerard's shoulder, smiling feebly, but 
 quite, quite unstrung. Thus Gerard was anxious, and 
 would seek assistance . But she held him with a gentle 
 grasp, and implored him not to leave her for a moment. 
 ' While I can lay my hand on you, I feel you are 
 safe, not else. Foolish Gerard ! nothing ails me. 
 I am weak, dearest, but happy, oh ! so happy ! ' 
 
 Then it was Gerard's turn to support that dear 
 head, with its great waves of hair flowing loose over
 
 CHAPTER XXII 135 
 
 him, and nurse her, and soothe her, quivering on his 
 bosom, with soft encouraging words and murmurs of 
 love, and gentle caresses. Sweetest of all her charms 
 is a woman's weakness to a manly heart. 
 
 Poor things ! they were happy. To-morrow they 
 must part. But that was nothing to them now. 
 They had seen Death, and all other troubles seemed 
 light as air. While there is life there is hope : while 
 there is hope there is joy. Separation for a year or 
 two, what was it to them, who were so young, and 
 had caught a glimpse of the grave ? The future 
 was bright, the present was heaven : so passed the 
 blissful hours. 
 
 Alas ! their innocence ran other risks besides the 
 prison and the grave : they were in most danger 
 from their own hearts and their inexperience, now 
 that visible danger there was none. 
 
 Ghysbrecht van Swieten could not sleej) all night 
 for anxiety. He was afraid of thunder and lightning, 
 or he would have made one of the party that searched 
 Peter's house. As soon as the storm ceased altogether, 
 he crept downstairs, saddled his mule, and rode to the 
 ' Three Kings ' at Sevenbergen. There he found his 
 men sleeping, some on the chairs, some on the tables, 
 some on the floor. He roused them furiously, and 
 heard the story of their unsuccessful search, inter- 
 larded with praises of their zeal. 
 
 'Fool! to let you go without me,' cried the Burgo- 
 master. ' My life on 't he was there all the time. 
 Looked ye under the girl's bed ? ' 
 
 ' No : there was no room for a man there.' 
 
 ' How know ye that, if ye looked not ? ' snarled 
 Ghysbrecht. ' Ye should have looked under her bed, 
 and in it, too ; and sounded all the panels with your 
 knives. Come, now, get up, and I shall show ye how 
 to search.'
 
 136 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Dierich Brower got up, and shook himself : ' If 
 you find him, call me a horse and no man.' 
 
 In a few minutes Peter's house was again sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 The fiery old man left his mule in the hands of 
 Jorian Ketel, and, with Dierich Brower and the 
 others, entered the house. 
 
 The house was empty ! 
 
 Not a creature to be seen, not even Peter. They 
 went upstairs, and then suddenly one of the men 
 gave a shout, and pointed through Peter's window, 
 which was open. The others looked, and there, at 
 some little distance, walking quietly across the fields 
 with Margaret and Martin, was the man they sought. 
 Ghysbrecht, with an exulting yell, descended the 
 stairs, and flung himself on his mule ; and he and 
 his men set off in hot pursuit. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Gerabd, warned by recent peril, rose before day- 
 break, and waked Martin. The old soldier was 
 astonished. He thought Gerard had escaped by the 
 window last night. Being consulted as to the best 
 way for him to leave the country and elude pursuit, 
 he said there was but one road safe. ' I must guide 
 you through the great forest to a bridle road I know 
 of. This will take you speedily to a hostelry, where 
 they will lend you a swift horse : and then an hour's 
 gallop will take you out of Holland. But let us start 
 ere the folk here quit their beds.' 
 
 Peter's house was but a furlong and a half from the 
 forest. They started, Martin with his bow and three 
 arrows, for it was Thursday : Gerard with nothing 
 but a stout oak staff Peter gave him for the journey.
 
 138 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Margaret pinned up her kirtle and farthingale, for 
 the road was wet. Peter went as far as his garden 
 hedge with them, and then, with more emotion than 
 he often bestowed on passing events, gave the young 
 man his blessing. 
 
 The sun was peeping above the horizon as they 
 crossed the stony field and made for the wood. They 
 had crossed about half, when Margaret, who kept 
 nervously looking back every now and then, uttered 
 a cry, and, following her instinct, began to run 
 towards the wood, screaming with terror all the way. 
 
 Ghysbrecht and his men were in hot pursuit. 
 
 Resistance would have been madness. Martin and 
 Gerard followed Margaret's example. The pursuers 
 gained slightly on them ; but Martin kept shouting, 
 ' Only gain the wood ! only gain the wood ! ' 
 
 They had too good a start for the men on foot, 
 and their hearts bounded with hope at Martin's words, 
 for the great trees seemed now to stretch their branches 
 like friendly arms towards them, and their leaves 
 like a screen. 
 
 But an unforeseen danger burst on them. The 
 fiery old Burgomaster had flung himself on his mule, 
 and, spurring him to a gallop, he headed not his own 
 men only, but the fugitives. His object was to cut 
 them ofif. The old man came galloping in a semicircle, 
 and got on the edge of the wood, right in front of 
 Gerard : the others might escape for ought he cared. 
 
 Margaret shrieked twice ; but only once for Gerard. 
 
 Ghysbrecht in his ardour had forgotten that hunted 
 animals turn on the hunter ; and that two men can 
 hate, and two can long to kill the thing they hate. 
 
 Instead of attempting to dodge him, as the Burgo- 
 master thought he would, Gerard flew right at him 
 with a savage, exulting cry, and struck at him with 
 all his heart and soul and strength. The oak staff
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 139 
 
 came down on his face with a frightful crash, and laid 
 him under his mule's tail, beating the devil's tattoo 
 with his heels, his face streaming, and his collar 
 spattered, with blood. 
 
 The next nioment, the three were in the wood. 
 The yell of dismay and vengeance that burst from 
 Ghysbrecht's men at that terrible blow which felled 
 their leader, told the fugitives that it was a race for 
 life or death. 
 
 ' Why run ? ' cried Gerard, panting. ' You have 
 your bow ; and I have this : ' and he shook his bloody 
 staff. 
 
 ' Boy ! ' roared Martin ; ' the GALLOWS ! Follow 
 me ! ' and he fled into the wood. Soon they heard 
 a cry like a pack of hounds opening on sight of the 
 game. The men were in the wood, and saw them 
 flitting among the trees. Margaret moaned and 
 panted, as she ran ; and Gerard clenched his teeth, 
 and grasped his staff. The next minute they came 
 to a stiff hazel coppice. Martin dashed into it, and 
 shouldered the j^oung wood aside as if it were standing 
 corn. 
 
 Ere they had gone fifty yards in it they came to 
 four blind paths. 
 
 Martin took one. ' Bend low,' said he : and, 
 half -creeping, they glided along. Presently their path 
 was again intersected with other little tortuous paths. 
 They took one of them ; it seemed to lead back, but 
 it soon took a turn, and after a while brought them 
 to a thick pine grove where the walking was good and 
 hard : there were no paths here, and the young fir- 
 trees were so thick you could not see three yards 
 before your nose. 
 
 . When they had gone some way in this, Martin 
 sat down, and, accustomed to lose all impression of 
 danger with the danger itself, took a piece of bread
 
 140 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 and a slice of ham out of his wallet, and began quietly 
 to eat his breakfast. 
 
 The young ones looked at him with dismay. He 
 replied to their looks. 
 
 ' All Sevenbergen could not find you now ; you 
 will lose your purse, Gerard, long before you get to 
 Italy : is that the way to carry a purse ? ' 
 
 Gerard looked, and there was a large triangular 
 purse, entangled by its chains to the buckle and strap 
 of his wallet. 
 
 ' This is none of mine,' said he. ' What is in it, 
 I wonder ? ' and he tried to detach it : but in passing 
 through the coppice it had become inextricably 
 entangled in his strap and buckle. ' It seems loath 
 to leave me,' said Gerard, and he had to cut it loose 
 with his knife. The purse, on examination, proved 
 to be well provided with silver coins of all sizes, but 
 its bloated appearance was greatly owing to a number 
 of pieces of brown paper folded and doubled. A light 
 burst on Gerard. ' Why it must be that old thief's ? 
 and see ! stuffed with paper to deceive the world ! ' 
 
 The wonder was, how the Burgomaster's purse 
 came on Gerard. 
 
 They hit at last upon the right solution. The purse 
 must have been at Ghysbrecht's saddle-bow, and 
 Gerard, rushing at his enemy, had unconsciously torn 
 it away, thus felling his enemy and robbing him, 
 with a single gesture. 
 
 Gerard was delighted at this feat, but Margaret 
 was uneasy. 
 
 ' Throw it away, Gerard, or let Martin take it 
 back. Already they call you a thief. I cannot 
 bear it.' 
 
 ' Throw it away ? give it him back ? not a stiver. 
 This is spoil, lawfully won in battle from an enemy. 
 Is it not, Martin ? '
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 141 
 
 ' Why, of course. Send him back the brown paper 
 an you will ; but the purse or the coin — that were 
 a sin.' 
 
 ' Oh, Gerard ! ' said Margaret, ' you are going to 
 a distant land. We need the good will of Heaven. 
 How can we hope for that, if we take what is not 
 ours.' 
 
 But Gerard saw it in a different light. 
 
 ' It is Heaven that gives it me by a miracle, and 
 I shall cherish it accordingly,' said this pious youth. 
 ' Thus the favoured people spoiled the Egyptians, and 
 were blessed.' 
 
 ' Take your own way,' said Margaret, humbly, 
 ' you are wiser than I am. You are my husband,' 
 added she, in a low murmuring voice ; ' is it for me 
 to gainsay you ? ' 
 
 These humble words from Margaret, who, till that 
 day, had held the whip-hand, rather surprised Martin 
 for the moment. They recurred to him some time 
 afterwards, and then they surprised him less. 
 
 Gerard kissed her tenderly in return for her wife- 
 like docility, and they pursued their journey hand- 
 in-hand, Martin leading the way, into the depths of 
 the huge forest. The farther they went the more 
 absolutely secure from pursuit they felt. Indeed, 
 the townspeople never ventured so far as this into 
 the trackless part of the forest. 
 
 Impetuous natures repent quickly. Gerard was no 
 sooner out of all danger, than his conscience began 
 to prick him. 
 
 ' Martin, would I had not struck quite so hard.' 
 
 ' Whom ? Oh, let that pass ; he is cheap served.' 
 
 ' Martin, I saw his grey hairs as my stick fell on 
 him. I doubt I shall not get them out of my sight 
 this while.' 
 
 Martin grunted. ' Who spares a badger for his
 
 142 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 grey hairs 'i The greyer your enemy is, the older ; 
 and the older the craftier ; and the craftier the better 
 for a little killing.' 
 
 ' Killing ? Killing, Martin ? ' don't speak of 
 killing ! ' And Gerard shook all over. 
 
 ' I am very much mistaken if you have not,' said 
 Martin, cheerfully. 
 
 ' Now Heaven forbid ! ' 
 
 ' The old vagabond's skull cracked like a walnut. 
 Aha!' 
 
 ' God and all the saints forbid it ! ' 
 
 ' He rolled off his mule like a stone shot out of 
 a cart. Said 1 to myself, " there is one wiped out." ' 
 And the iron old soldier grinned ruthlessly. 
 
 Gerard fell on his knees, and began to pray for his 
 enemy's life. 
 
 At this Martin lost patience. ' Here 's mummery. 
 What, you that set up for learning, know you not 
 that a wise man never strikes his enemy but to kill 
 him ? And what is all this coil about killing of old 
 men ? If it had been a young one now, with the 
 joys of life waiting for him — to wit, wine, women, 
 and pillage — but an old fellow at the edge of the grave, 
 why not shove him in ? Go he must, to-day or to- 
 morrow ; and what better place for greybeards ? 
 Now, if ever I should be so mischancy as to last so 
 long as Ghysbrecht did, and have to go on a mule's 
 legs instead of Martin Wittenhaagen's, and a back 
 like this (striking the wood of his bow), instead 
 of this (striking the string), I'll thank and bless 
 any young fellow who will have the charity and 
 the friendship to knock me on the head, as you 
 have done that old shopkeeper, malediction on his 
 memory ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, culpa mea ! culpa mea ! ' cried Gerard, and 
 smote upon his breast.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 143 
 
 'Look there,' said Martin to Margaret, scornfully, 
 ' he is a priest at heart, still : and, when he is not in ire, 
 St. Paul ! what a milk-sop ! ' 
 
 ' Tush, Martin ! ' cried Margaret, reproachfully : 
 then sinking on her knees, she wreathed her arms 
 round Gerard, and comforted him with the double 
 magic of a woman's sense and a woman's voice. 
 
 ' Sweetheart,' murmured she, ' you forget : you 
 went not a step out of the way to harm him, who 
 hunted you to your death. You fled from him. He 
 it was who spurred on you. Then did you strike, 
 but in self-defence, and a single blow, and with that 
 which was in your hand. Malice had drawn knife, 
 or struck again and again. How often have men 
 been smitten with staves not one but many blows, 
 yet no lives lost. If then your enemy has fallen, 
 it is through his own malice, not yours, and by the 
 will of God.' 
 
 ' Bless you, Margaret, bless you, for thinking so ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, but, beloved one, if you have had the 
 misfortune to kill that wicked man, the more need is 
 there that you fly with haste from Holland. Oh ! 
 let us on.' 
 
 Nay, Margaret,' said Gerard. ' I fear not man's 
 vengeance, thanks to Martin here, and this thick 
 wood : only Him I fear whose eye pierces the forest, 
 and reads the heart of man. If I but struck in self- 
 defence, 'tis well ; but if in hate, he may bid the 
 avenger of blood follow me to Italy ; to Italy ? aye, 
 to earth's remotest bounds.' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said Martin, peevishly. ' I can't hear 
 for your chat.' 
 
 ' What is it ? ' 
 
 ' Do you hear nothing, Margaret ? My ears are 
 getting old.' 
 
 Margaret listened, and presently she heard a tune-
 
 144 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ful sound, like a single stroke upon a deep ringing 
 bell. She described it so to Martin. 
 
 ' Nay, I heard it,' said he. 
 
 ' And so did I,' said Gerard : ' it was beautiful : 
 Ah ! there it is again. How sweetly it blends with 
 the air. It is a long way off. It is before us ; is 
 it not ? ' 
 
 ' No, no ! the echoes of this wood confound the 
 ear of a stranger. It comes from the pine grove.* 
 
 ' What, the one we passed ? ' 
 
 ' The one we passed.' 
 
 ' Why, Martin, is this anything ? You look pale.* 
 
 ' Wonderful ! ' said Martin, with a sickly sneer. 
 ' He asks me is it anything ? Come, on, on ! at any 
 rate, let us reach a better place than this.' 
 
 ' A better place — for what ? ' 
 
 ' To stand at bay, Gerard,' said Martin, gravely ; 
 ' and die like soldiers, killing three for one.' 
 
 ' What 's that sound ? ' 
 
 'IT IS THE AVENGER OF BLOOD.' 
 
 ' Oh, Martin, save him ! Oh, Heaven be merciful ! 
 What new, mysterious peril is this ? ' 
 
 'GIRL, IT 'S A BLOODHOUND.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 The courage, like the talent of common men, 
 runs in a narrow groove. Take them but an inch 
 out of that, and they are done. Martin's courage 
 was perfect as far as it went. He had met and 
 baffled many dangers in the course of his rude life ; 
 and these familiar dangers he could face with Spartan 
 fortitude, almost with indifference : but he had never 
 been hunted by a bloodhound ; nor had he ever 
 seen that brute's unerring instinct baffled by human
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 145 
 
 cunning. Here then a sense of the supernatural 
 combined with novelty to unsteel his heart. After 
 going a few steps he leaned on his bow, and energy 
 and hope oozed out of him. Gerard, to whom the 
 danger appeared slight in proportion as it was distant, 
 urged him to'flight. 
 
 'What avails it,' said Martin, sadly; 'if we get 
 clear of the wood we shall die cheap ; here, hard by, 
 I know a place where we may die dear.' 
 
 'Alas ! good Martin,' cried Gerard : 'despair not 
 so quickly : there must be some way to escape.' 
 
 ' Oh, Martin ! ' cried Margaret. ' What if we were 
 to part company ? Gerard's life alone is forfeit ! is 
 there no way to draw the pursuit on us twain, and 
 let him go safe ? ' 
 
 ' Girl, you know not the bloodhound's nature. He 
 is not on this man's track, or that ; he is on the track 
 of blood. My life on 't, they have taken him to 
 where Ghysbrecht fell, and from Ghysbrecht's blood 
 to the man that shed it that cursed hound will lead 
 them, though Gerard should run through an army, 
 or swim the Meuse.' And again he leaned upon his 
 bow, and his head sank. 
 
 The hound's mellow voice rang through the wood. 
 
 A cry more tuneable 
 Was never halloed to, nor cheered with horn, 
 In Crete, in Sparta, or in Thessaly. 
 
 Strange that things beautiful should be terrible and 
 deadly. The eye of the boa constrictor while fascin- 
 ating its prey is lovely. No royal crown holds such 
 a jewel ; it is a ruby with the emerald's green light 
 playing ever upon it. Yet the deer that sees it 
 loses all power of motion, and trembles, and awaits 
 his death ; and even so to compare hearing with 
 sight, this sweet and mellow sound seemed to fascinate 
 
 EEADE r.
 
 146 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Martin Wittenhaagen. He stood uncertain, bewil- 
 dered, and unnerved. Gerard was little better now, 
 Martin's last words had daunted him. He had 
 struck an old man and shed his blood, and by 
 means of that very blood blood's four-footed avenger 
 was on his track. Was not the finger of Heaven 
 in this ? 
 
 Whilst the men were thus benumbed, the woman's 
 brain was all activity. The man she loved was in 
 danger. 
 
 ' Lend me your knife,' said she to Martin. He gave 
 it her. 
 
 ' But 'twill be little use in your hands,' said he. 
 ' Then Margaret did a sly thing. She stepped 
 behind Gerard, and furtively drew the knife across 
 her arm, and made it bleed freely : then stooping, 
 smeared her hose and shoes : and still as the blood 
 trickled she smeared them ; but so adroitly that 
 neither Gerard nor Martin saw. Then she seized the 
 soldier's arm. 
 
 ' Come, be a man ! ' she said, haughtily, ' and let 
 this end. Take us to some thick place, where numbers 
 will not avail our foes.' 
 
 ' I am going,' said Martin, sulkily. ' Hurry avails 
 not : we can't shun the hound, and the place is 
 hard by ; ' then turning to the left, he led the way, 
 as men go to execution. 
 
 He soon brought them to a thick hazel coppice 
 like the one that had favoured their escape in the 
 morning. 
 
 ' There,' said he, ' this is but a furlong broad, but 
 it will serve our turn.' 
 
 ' What are we to do ? ' 
 
 ' Get through this, and wait on the other side : 
 then as they come straggling through, shoot three, 
 knock two on the head, and the rest will kill us.'
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 147 
 
 ' Is that all you can think of ? ' said Gerard. 
 
 ' That is all.' 
 
 ' Then, Martin Wittenhaagen, I take the lead ; for 
 you have lost your head. Come, can you obey so 
 young a man as I am.' 
 
 ' Oh ! yes,"Martin,' cried Margaret, ' do not gainsay 
 Gerard ! He is wiser than his years.' 
 
 Martin gave a sullen assent, and they entered the 
 thick coppice. 
 
 When they had painfully travelled through half the 
 brushwood, the bloodhound's deep bay came nearer 
 and nearer, louder and louder. 
 
 Margaret trembled. 
 
 Martin went down on his stomach and listened. 
 
 ' I hear a horse's feet.' 
 
 ' No, said Gerard. ' 1 doubt it is a mule's. That 
 cursed Ghysbrecht is still alive, none other would 
 follow me up so bitterly.' 
 
 ' Never strike your enemy but to slay him,' said 
 Martin, gloomily. 
 
 ' I'll hit harder this time, if Heaven gives me the 
 chance,' said Gerard. 
 
 At last they worked through the coppice, and 
 there was an open wood. The trees were large, but 
 far apart, and no escape possible that way. 
 
 And now with the hound's bay mingled a score of 
 voices, hooping and hallooing. 
 
 ' The whole village is out after us,' said Martin. 
 
 ' I care not,' said Gerard. ' Listen Martin. The 
 hound will gain on the men, and as soon as he comes 
 out of the coppice, we will kill him.' 
 
 ' The hound ? There are more than one ! ' 
 
 ' 1 hear but one.' 
 
 ' Aye ! but one speaks, the others run mute ; but 
 let the leading hound lose the scent, then another 
 shall give tongue. There will be three dogs at least, 
 
 L 2
 
 148 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 or devils in dogs' hides. Then we must kill three, 
 instead of one. The moment they are dead, into 
 the coppice again, and go right back. That is a good 
 thought, Gerard ! ' said Martin, lifting his head. 
 
 ' Hush ! the men are in the wood.' 
 
 Gerard now gave his orders in a whisper. 
 
 ' Stand you with your bow by the side of the 
 coppice — there, in the ditch ! I will go but a few 
 yards to yon oak-tree, and hide behind it ; the dogs 
 will follow me, and as they come out shoot as many 
 as you can, the rest will I brain as they come round 
 the tree ! ' 
 
 Martin's eye flashed. They took up their places. 
 
 The hooping and hallooing came closer and closer, 
 and even the rustling of the young wood was heard, 
 and every now and then the unerring bloodhound 
 gave a single bay. 
 
 ' Oh ! it was terrible ! the branches rustling nearer 
 and nearer, and the inevitable struggle for life and 
 death coming on minute by minute, and that death- 
 knell leading it. A trembling hand was laid on 
 Gerard's shoulder. It made him start violently. 
 
 ' Martin says, if we are forced to part company, 
 make for that high ash-tree we came in by.' 
 
 ' Yes ! yes ! yes ! but go back for Heaven's sake ! 
 don't come here ! ' 
 
 She ran back towards Martin ; but, ere she could 
 get to him, suddenly a huge dog burst out of the 
 coppice, and stood erect a moment. He never noticed 
 Margaret. But he lowered his nose an instant, and 
 the next moment, with an awful yell, sprang straight 
 at Gerard's tree, and rolled head-over-heels dead 
 as a stone, literally spitted by an arrow from the bow 
 that twanged beside the coppice in Martin's hand. 
 That same moment out came another hound and 
 smelt his dead comrade. Gerard rushed out at him :
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 149 
 
 but ere he could use his cudgel, a streak of white 
 lightning seemed to strike the hound, and he grovelled 
 in the dust, wounded desperately, but not killed, 
 and howling piteously. 
 
 Gerard had not time to dispatch him : the coppice 
 rustled too near : it seemed alive with men. Pointing 
 wildly to Martin to go back, Gerard ran a few yards to 
 the right, then crept cautiously into the thick coppice 
 just as three men burst out. These had headed their 
 comrades considerably ; the rest were following at 
 various distances. Gerard crawled back almost on 
 all-fours. Instinct taught Martin and Margaret to 
 do the same upon their line of retreat. Thus, within 
 the distance of a few yards, the pursuers and pursued 
 were passing one another upon opposite tracks. 
 
 A loud cry announced the discovery of the dead and 
 the wounded hound. Then followed a babble of 
 voices, still swelling as fresh pursuers reached the spot. 
 The hunters, as usual on a surprise, were wasting 
 time, and the hunted ones were making the most 
 of it. 
 
 ' I hear no more hounds,' whispered Martin to 
 Margaret, and he was himself again. 
 
 It was Margaret's turn to tremble and despair. 
 ' Oh ! why did we part with Gerard ? They will kill 
 my Gerard, and I not near him ! ' 
 
 ' Nay, nay ! the head to catch him is not on their 
 shoulders. You bade him meet us at the ash-tree.' 
 
 ' And so I did ! Bless you, Martin, for thinking of 
 that — to the ash-tree ! ' 
 
 ' Aye ! but with less noise.' 
 
 They were now nearly at the edge of the coppice, 
 when suddenly they heard hooping and hallooing 
 behind them. The men had satisfied themselves the 
 fugitives were in the coppice, and were beating back. 
 
 ' No matter,' whispered Martin to his trembling
 
 150 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 companion. 'We shall have time to win clear and 
 slip out of sight by hard running. Ah ! ' 
 
 He stopped suddenly ; for just as he was going to 
 burst out of the brush- wood, his eye caught a figure 
 keeping sentinel. It was Ghysbrecht van Swieten 
 seated on his mule ; a bloody bandage was across 
 his nose, the bridge of which was broken ; but over 
 this his eyes peered keenly, and it was plain by 
 their expression he had heard the fugitives rustle, 
 and was looking out for them. Martin muttered 
 a terrible oath, and cautiously strung his bow, then 
 with equal caution fitted his last arrow to the string. 
 Margaret put her hands to her face, but said nothing. 
 She saw this man must die or Gerard. After the first 
 impulse she peered through her fingers, her heart 
 panting audibly. 
 
 The bow was raised and the deadly arrow steadily 
 drawn to its head, when at that moment an active 
 figure leaped on Ghysbrecht from behind so swiftly, 
 it was like a hawk swooping on a pigeon. A shirt 
 went over the Burgomaster, and, in a turn of the 
 hand, his head was muffled in it, and he was whirled 
 from his seat and fell heavily upon the ground, where 
 he lay groaning with terror ; and Gerard jumped down 
 after him. 
 
 ' Hist, Martin ! Martin ! ' 
 
 Martin and Margaret came out, the former open- 
 mouthed, crying, ' Now fly ! fly ! while they are all 
 in the thicket ; we are saved ! ' 
 
 At this crisis, when safety seemed at hand, as fate 
 would have it, Margaret, who had borne up so bravely 
 till now, began to succumb, partly from loss of 
 blood. 
 
 ' Oh, my beloved ! fly ! ' she gasped. ' Leave me, 
 for I am faint ! ' 
 
 ' No ! no ! ' screamed Gerard. ' Death together,
 
 152 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 or safety ! Ah ! the mule ! mount her ; you, and 
 I'll ' 
 
 In a moment Martin was on the mule, and Gerard 
 raised the fainting girl in his arms and placed her 
 on the saddle, and relieved Martin of his bow. 
 
 * Help ! treason ! murder ! murder ! ' slu-ieked 
 Ghysbrecht, rising on his hams. 
 
 ' Silence, cur ! ' roared Gerard, and trode him down 
 again by the throat as men crush an adder. ' Now, 
 have you got her firm ? Then fly ! for our lives ! ' 
 
 But even as the mule, urged suddenly by Martin's 
 heel, scattered the flints with his hind hoofs ere he 
 got into a canter, and even as Gerard withdrew his 
 foot from Ghysbrecht's throat to run, Dierich Brower 
 and his five men, who had come back for orders, and 
 heard the Burgomaster's cries, burst roaring out of 
 the coppice on them. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 Speech is the familiar vent of human thoughts : 
 but there are emotions so simple and overpowering, 
 that they rush out not in words, but in eloquent 
 sounds. At such moments man seems to lose his 
 characteristics, and to be merely one of the liigher 
 animals ; for these when greatly agitated ejaculate, 
 though they cannot speak. 
 
 There was something terrible and truly animal both 
 in the roar of triumph with which the pursuers burst 
 out of the thicket on our fugitives, and in the sharp 
 cry of terror with which these latter darted away. 
 The pursuers' hands clutched the empty air, scarce 
 two feet behind them, as they fled for life. Confused 
 for a moment, like lions that miss their spring, Dierich 
 and his men let Gerard and the mule put ten yards
 
 CHAPTER XXV 153 
 
 between them. Then they flew after with uplifted 
 weapons. They were sure of catching them ; for 
 this was not the first time the parties had measured 
 speed. In the open ground they had gained visibly 
 on the trio ^his morning, and now, at last, it was 
 a fair race again, to be settled by speed alone. 
 A hundred yards were covered in no time. Yet still 
 there remained these ten yards between the pursuers 
 and the pursued. 
 
 This increase of speed since the morning puzzled 
 Dierich Brower. But I think I understand it. When 
 three run in company, the pace is that of the slowest 
 of the three. From Peter's house to the edge of the 
 forest Gerard ran Margaret's pace ; but now he ran 
 his own ; for the mule was fleet, and could have 
 left them all far behind. Moreover, youth and chaste 
 living began to tell. Daylight grew imperceptibly 
 between the hunted ones and the hunters. Then 
 Dierich made a desperate effort, and gained two yards ; 
 but in a few seconds Gerard had stolen them quickly 
 back. The pursuers began to curse. 
 
 Martin heard, and his face lighted up. ' Courage 
 Gerard ! courage, brave lad ! they are straggling.' 
 
 It was so. Dierich was now headed by one of his 
 men, and another dropped into the rear altogether. 
 
 They came to a rising ground, not sharp, but long ; 
 and here youth, and grit, and honest living, told 
 more than ever. 
 
 Ere he reached the top, Dierich's forty years 
 weighed him down like forty bullets. ' Our cake is 
 dough,' he gasped. ' Take him dead, if you can't 
 alive : ' and he left off running, and followed at a foot's 
 pace. Jorian Ketel tailed off next ; and then another, 
 and so, one by one, Gerard ran them all to a standstill, 
 except one who kept on staunch as a bloodhound, 
 though losing ground every minute. His name, if
 
 154 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 I am not mistaken, was Eric Wouverman. Followed 
 by this one, they came to a rise in the wood, shorter, 
 but much steeper than the last. 
 
 ' Hand on mane ! ' cried Martin. 
 
 Gerard obeyed, and the mule helped him up the 
 hill faster even than he was running before. 
 
 At the sight of this manoeuvre, Dierich's man lost 
 heart, and, being now full eighty yards behind Gerard, 
 and rather more than that in advance of his nearest 
 comrade, he pulled up short, and in obedience to 
 Dierich's order, took down his cross-bow, levelled it 
 deliberately, and just as the trio were sinking out of 
 sight, over the crest of the hill, sent the bolt whizzing 
 among them. 
 
 There was a cry of dismay ; and, next moment, as 
 if a thunderbolt had fallen on them, they were all 
 lying on the ground, mule and all. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 The effect was so sudden and magical, that the 
 shooter himself was stupefied for a moment. Then 
 he hailed his companions to join him in effecting 
 the capture, and himself set off up the hill : when up 
 rose the figure of Martin Wittenhaagen with a bent 
 bow in his hand. Eric Wouverman no sooner saw 
 him in this attitude, than he darted behind a tree, 
 and made himself as small as possible. Martin's 
 skill with that weapon was well known, and the slain 
 dog was a keen reminder of it. 
 
 Wouverman peered round the bark cautiously : 
 there was the arrow's point still aimed at him. He 
 saw it shine. He dared not move from his shelter. 
 
 When he had been at peep-bo some minutes, his 
 companions came up, and then, with a scornful
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 155 
 
 laugh, Martin vanished, and presently was heard to 
 ride off on the mule. 
 
 All the men ran up together. The high ground 
 commanded a view of a narrow but almost inter- 
 minable glade. 
 
 They saw Gerard and Margaret running along at 
 a prodigious distance ; they looked like gnats ; and 
 Martin galloping after them ventre a terre. 
 
 The hunters were outwitted as well as outrun. 
 A few words will explain Martin's conduct. We 
 arrive at causes by noting coincidences : yet, now 
 and then, coincidences are deceitful. As we have 
 all seen a hare tumble over a briar just as the gun 
 went off, and so raise expectations, then dash them 
 to earth by scudding away untouched, so the Burgo- 
 master's mule put her foot in a rabbit-hole, at or 
 about the time the cross-bow bolt whizzed innocuous 
 over her head : she fell and threw both her riders. 
 Gerard caught Margaret, but was carried down by 
 her weight and impetus. Thus in a moment the soil 
 was strewed with dramatis personae. 
 
 The docile mule was up again directly, and stood 
 trembling. Martin was next, and looking round 
 found out there was but one in pursuit ; on this he 
 made the young lovers fly on foot, while he checked 
 the enemy as I have recorded. 
 
 He now galloped after his companions, and when, 
 after a long race, he caught them, he instantly put 
 Gerard and Margaret on the mule, and ran by their 
 side, till his breath failed, then took his turn to ride, 
 and so in rotation. Thus the runner was always 
 fresh, and long ere they relaxed their speed, all sound 
 and trace of them was hopelessly lost to Dierich and 
 his men. These latter went crestfallen back to look 
 after their chief.
 
 156 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 Life and liberty, while safe, are little thought of : 
 for why ? — they are matters of course. Endangered, 
 they are rated at their real value. In this, too, they 
 are like sunshine, whose beauty men notice not at 
 noon when it is greatest, but towards evening when 
 it lies in flakes of topaz under shady elms. Yet it 
 is feebler then ; but gloom lies beside it and reveals 
 its fire. Thus Gerard and Margaret, though they 
 started at every leaf that rustled louder than its 
 fellows, glowed all over with Joy and thankfulness as 
 they glided among the friendly trees in safety and 
 deep tranquil silence, baying dogs and brutal voices 
 yet ringing in their mind's ears. 
 
 But presently Gerard found stains of blood on 
 Margaret's ankles. 
 
 ' Oh, Martin ! Martin ! help ! they have wounded 
 her : the cross-bow ! ' 
 
 ' No, no ! ' said Margaret, smiling to reassure him. 
 ' I am not wounded, nor hurt at all.' 
 
 ' But what is it, then, in Heaven's name ? ' cried 
 Grerard, in great agitation. 
 
 ' Do not scold me, then ! ' and Margaret blushed. 
 
 ' Did I ever scold you ? ' 
 
 ' No, dear Gerard. Well, then, Martin said it was 
 blood those cruel dogs followed ; so I thought if 
 I could but have a little blood on my shoon the dogs 
 would follow me instead, and let my Gerard win 
 free. So I scratched my arm with Martin's knife — 
 forgive me ! Whose else could I take ? Yours, 
 Gerard ? Ah, no. You forgive me ? ' 
 
 ' Let me see this scratch first,' said Gerard, choking 
 with emotion. ' There, I thought so. A scratch ? 
 I call it a cut — a deep, terrible, cruel cut.'
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 157 
 
 Gerard shuddered at sight of it. 
 
 ' She might have done it with her bodkin,' said the 
 soldier, ' Milksop ! that sickens at sight of a scratch 
 and a little blood.' 
 
 ' No, no. 1 could look on a sea of blood ; but not 
 on hers. Oh," Margaret ! how could you be so cruel ? ' 
 
 Margaret smiled with love ineffable. ' Foolish 
 Gerard,' murmured she, ' to make so much of nothing.* 
 And she flung the guilty arm round his neck. ' As 
 if 1 would not give all the blood in my heart for you, 
 let alone a few drops from my arm.' And the next 
 moment, under the sense of his recent danger, she 
 wept on his neck for pity and love : and he wept 
 with her. 
 
 ' And I must part from her,' he sobbed, ' we two 
 that love so dear— one must be in Holland, one in 
 Italy. Ah me ! ah me ! ah me ! ' 
 
 At this Margaret wept afresh, but patiently and 
 silently. Instinct is never off its guard, and with 
 her unselfishness was an instinct. To utter her 
 present thoughts would be to add to Gerard's misery 
 at parting, so she wept in silence. 
 
 Suddenly they emerged upon a beaten path, and 
 Martin stopped. 
 
 ' This is the bridle-road I spoke of,' said he, gravely, 
 ' and there away lies the hostelry.' 
 
 Margaret and Gerard cast a scared look at one 
 another. 
 
 ' Come a step with me, Martin,' whispered Gerard. 
 When he had drawn him aside, he said to him in 
 a broken voice, ' Oh, Martin ! watch over her for me ! 
 She is my wife — yet I leave her. See Martin ! here 
 is gold — it was for my journey ; it is no use my asking 
 her to take it — she would not ; but you wUl for her, 
 will you not ? Oh, Heaven ! and is this all I can do 
 for her ? Money ? But poverty is a curse. You
 
 158 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 will not let her want for anything, Martin ? The 
 Burgomaster's silver is enough for me.' 
 
 ' Thou art a good lad, Gerard. Neither want nor 
 harm shall come to her. I oare more for her little 
 finger than for all the world : and were she nought 
 to me, even for thy sake would I be a father to her. 
 Go with a stout heart, and God be with thee going 
 and coming.' And the rough soldier wrung Gerard's 
 hand and turned his head away. 
 
 After a moment's silence, he was for going back 
 to Margaret ; but Gerard stopped him. ' No, good 
 Martin : prithee, stay here behind this thicket, 
 while I— 0, Martin ! Martin ! ' 
 
 By this means Gerard escaped a witness of his 
 anguish at leaving her he loved, and Martin escaped 
 a piteous sight, on which I myself would rather not 
 dwell. He did not see the poor young things kneel 
 and renew before Heaven those holy vows cruel 
 men had interrupted. He did not see them cling 
 together like one, and then try to part, and fail, 
 and return to one another, and cling again, like drown- 
 ing despairing creatures. But he heard Gerard sob, 
 and sob, and Margaret moan. 
 
 At last there was a wild cry, and feet pattered on 
 the hard road. 
 
 He started up, and there was Gerard running 
 wildly, with both hands clasped above his head, in 
 prayer, and Margaret tottering towards him with 
 palms extended piteously, as if for help, and ashy 
 cheek, and eyes fixed on vacancy. 
 
 He caught her in his arms, and spoke words of 
 comfort to her ; but her mind could not take them 
 in ; only at the sound of his voice she held him tight, 
 and trembled violently. 
 
 He got her on the mule, and put his arm round
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 159 
 
 her, and so, supporting her frame, which was now 
 all relaxed and powerless, he took her slowly and 
 sadly home. 
 
 She did not shed one tear, nor speak one word. 
 
 At the edge of the wood he took her off the mule, 
 and bade hec go across to her father's house. She 
 did as she was bid. 
 
 Martin to Rotterdam. Sevenbergen was too hot 
 for him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 JoRiAN Ketel came to Peter's house to claim 
 Margaret's promise ; but Margaret was ill in bed, 
 and Peter, on hearing his errand, affronted him and 
 warned him off the premises, and one or two that 
 stood by were for ducking him ; for both father and 
 daughter were favourites, and the whole story was 
 in every mouth, and the Sevenbergans in that state 
 of hot, indiscriminating irritation which accompanies 
 popular sympathy. 
 
 So Jorian Ketel went off in dudgeon, and repented 
 him of his good deed. This sort of penitence is not 
 rare, and has the merit of being sincere. Dierich 
 Brower, who was discovered at ' The Three Kings ', 
 making a chatterbox drunk in order to worm out 
 of him the whereabouts of Martin Wittenhaagen, was 
 actually taken and flung into a horse-pond, and 
 threatened with worse usage, should he ever show his 
 face in the burgh again ; and finally, municipal 
 jealousy being roused, the Burgomaster of Seven- 
 bergen sent a formal missive to the Burgomaster of 
 Tergou, reminding him he had overstepped the law, 
 and requesting him to apply to the authorities of 
 Sevenbergen on any future occasion when he might
 
 160 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 have a complaint, real or imaginary, against any of 
 the townsfolk. 
 
 The wily Ghysbrecht, suppressing his rage at this 
 remonstrance, sent back a civil message to say that 
 the person he had followed to Sevenbergen was 
 a Tergovan, one Gerard, and that he had stolen the 
 town records : that Gerard having escaped into foreign 
 parts, and probably taken the documents with him, 
 the whole matter was at an end ; and that he should 
 not think of molesting his friend Peter Brandt, now 
 there was no longer any good to be gained by it. 
 
 Thus he made a virtue of necessity. But in reality 
 his calmness was but a veil : baffled at Sevenbergen, 
 he turned his views elsewhere. He set his emissaries 
 to learn from the family at Tergou whither Gerard 
 had fled, and to his infinite surprise he found they did 
 not know. This added to his uneasiness. It made 
 him fear Gerard was only lurking in the neighbour- 
 hood : he would make a certain discovery, and would 
 come back and take a terrible revenge. From this 
 time Dierich and others were about him noticed 
 a change for the worse in Ghysbrecht Van Swieten. 
 He became a moody, irritable man. A dread lay on 
 him. His eyes were for ever casting furtive glances 
 like one who expects a blow, and knows not from 
 what quarter it is to come. Making others wretched 
 had not made him happy. It seldom does. The 
 little family at Tergou, which but for his violent 
 interference might in time have cemented its differ- 
 ence without banishing spem gregis to a distant land, 
 wore still the same outward features, but within was 
 no longer the simple happy family this tale opened 
 with. Little Kate knew the share Cornells and 
 Sybrandt had had in banishing Gerard, and though, 
 for fear of making more mischief still, she never told 
 her mother, yet there were times she shuddered at
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 161 
 
 the bare sight of them, and blushed at theu- hypo- 
 critical regrets : she could not help it. Catherine 
 with a woman's vigilance noticed this, and with a 
 woman's subtlety said nothing, but quietly pondered 
 it, and went on watching for more. The black sheep 
 themselves, ia their efforts to partake in the general 
 gloom and sorrow, succeeded so far as to impose upon 
 their father and Giles : but the demure satisfaction 
 that lay at the bottom of them could not escape these 
 feminine eyes — 
 
 That, noting all, seem'd nought to note. 
 
 Thus mistrust and suspicion sat at the table, poor 
 substitutes for Gerard's intelligent face, that had 
 brightened the whole circle, unobserved till now. 
 As for the old hosier, his pride had been wounded 
 by his son's disobedience, and so he bore stiffly up, 
 and did his best never to mention Gerard's name ; 
 but underneath his Spartan cloak Nature might 
 often be seen tugging at his heart-strings. One 
 anxiety he never affected to conceal. ' If I but 
 knew where the boy is, and that his life and health 
 are in no danger, small would be my care,' would he 
 say ; and then a deep sigh would follow. (I can't 
 help thinking that if Gerard had opened the door just 
 then, and walked in, there would have been many 
 tears and embraces for him, and few reproaches, or 
 none.) 
 
 One thing took the old couple quite by surprise — 
 publicity. Ere Gerard had been gone a week, his 
 adventures were in every mouth ; and, to make 
 matters worse, the popular sympathy declared itself 
 warmly on the side of the lovers, and against Gerard's 
 cruel parents, and that old busy-body the Burgo- 
 master, ' who must put his nose into a business that 
 nowise concerned him.'
 
 162 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 One feeling in Catherine's mind was bitterly strong, 
 and deprived an unfortunate young creature of 
 a sympathy that she lay longing for, though not 
 daring to hope for it. 
 
 ' Mother,' said Kate, ' it is all over the town that 
 Margaret is down with a fever — a burning fever ; her 
 father fears her sadly.' 
 
 ' Margaret ? what Margaret ? ' inquired Catherine, 
 with a treacherous assumption of calmness and 
 indifference. 
 
 ' Oh, mother ! whom should I mean ? Why 
 Gerard's Margaret.' 
 
 * Gerard's Margaret ! ' screamed Catherine ; ' how 
 dare you say such a word to me ? And I rede you 
 never mention that hussey's name in this house, that 
 she has laid bare. She is the ruin of my poor boy : — • 
 the flower of all my flock. She is the cause that he 
 is not a holy priest in the midst of us, but is roaming 
 the world, and that I am a desolate broken-hearted 
 mother. There, do not cry, my girl, I do ill to speak 
 harsh to you. But, oh, Kate ! you don't know what 
 passes in a mother's heart. I bear up before you 
 all ; it behoves me swallow my fears : but at night 
 I see him in my dreams, and always some trouble 
 or other near him : sometimes I see him torn by 
 wild beasts ; sometimes he is in the hands of robbers, 
 and their cruel knives uplifted to strike his poor pale 
 face, that one would think would move a stone. 
 Oh ! when I think that while I sit here in comfort, 
 perhaps my poor boy lies dead in some savage place : 
 and all along of that girl : there, her v^ery name 
 is ratsbane to me. I tremble all over when I 
 hear it.' 
 
 ' I'll not say anything, nor do anything to grieve 
 you worse, mother,' said Kate tenderly ; but she 
 sighed.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 163 
 
 She whose name was so fiercely interdicted in this 
 house, was much spoken of, and even pitied, else- 
 where. All Sevenbergen was sorry for her, and the 
 young men and maidens cast many a pitying glance, 
 as they passed, at the little window where the beauty 
 of the village' lay dying for love. In this familiar 
 phrase they underrated her spirit and unselfishness. 
 Gerard was not dead, and she was too loyal herself 
 to doubt his constancy. Her father was dear to 
 her and helpless ; and, but for bodily weakness, all 
 her love for Gerard would not have kept her from 
 doing her duties, though she might have gone about 
 them with drooping head and heavy heart. But 
 physical and mental excitement had brought on an 
 attack of fever so violent, that nothing but youth 
 and constitution saved her. The malady left her at 
 last, but in that terrible state of bodily weakness in 
 which the patient feels life a burden. 
 
 Then it is that love and friendship by the bedside 
 are mortal angels with comfort in their voices, and 
 healing in their palms. 
 
 But this poor girl had to come back to life and 
 vigour how she could. Many days she lay alone, 
 and the heavy hours rolled like leaden waves over her. 
 In her enfeebled state existence seemed a burden, 
 and life a thing gone by. She could not try to get 
 well. Gerard was gone. She had not him to get 
 well for. Often she lay for hours quite still, with 
 the tears welling gently out of her eyes. 
 
 But one day, waking from an uneasy slumber, she 
 found two women in her room. One was a servant, 
 the other, by the deep fur on her collar and sleeves, 
 was a person of consideration : a narrow band of 
 silvery hah- being spared by her coiffure, showed her 
 to be past the age when women of sense conceal their 
 years. The looks of both were kind and friendly. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Margaret tried to raise herself in the bed, but the old 
 lady placed a hand very gently on her. 
 
 ' Lie still, sweetheart ; we come not here to put 
 you about, but to comfort you, God willing. Now 
 cheer up a bit, and tell us, first, who think you we 
 are ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, madam, I know you, though I never saw 
 you before : you are the demoiselle Van Eyck, and 
 this is Richt Heynes. Gerard has often spoken of 
 you, and of your goodness to him. Madam, he has 
 no friend like you near him now,' and she lay back, 
 and the tears welled out of her eyes. 
 
 The good-natured Richt Heynes began to cry for 
 company ; but her mistress scolded her. ' Well, you 
 are a pretty one for a sick-room,' said she : and she 
 put out a world of innocent art to cheer the patient : 
 and not without some little success. An old woman 
 that has seen life and all its troubles is a sovereign 
 blessing by a sorrowful young woman's side. She 
 knows what to say, and what to avoid. She knows 
 how to soothe her and interest her. Ere she had 
 been there an hour she had Margaret's head lying 
 on her shoulder instead of on the pillow, and Margaret's 
 soft eyes dwelhng on her with gentle gratitude. 
 
 ' Ah ! this is hair,' said the old lady, running her 
 fingers through it. ' Come and look at it, Richt ! ' 
 
 Richt came and handled it, and praised it un- 
 affectedly. The poor child that owned it was not 
 quite out of the reach of flattery (owing, no doubt, 
 to her not being dead). 
 
 ' In sooth, madam, I did use to think it hideous : 
 but he praised it, and ever since then I have been 
 almost vain of it, God forgive me. You know how 
 foolish those are that love.' 
 
 * They are greater fools that don't,' said the old 
 lady, sharply.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 165 
 
 Margaret opened her lovely eyes, and looked at her 
 for her meaning. 
 
 This was only the first of many visits. In fact 
 either Margaret Van Eyck or Richt came nearly 
 every day until their patient was convalescent : and 
 she improved rapidly under their hands. Richt 
 attributed this principally to certain nourishing dishes 
 she prepared in Peter's kitchen : but Margaret herself 
 thought more of the kind words and eyes that kept 
 telling her she had friends to live for. Her gratitude 
 to her old friend was ardent and touching, and there 
 was no mistaking its depth and sincerity. 
 
 Martin Wittenhaagen went straight to Rotterdam, 
 to take the bull by the horns. The bull in question 
 was Philip the Good, duke of this, earl of that, lord 
 of the other. Arrived at Rotterdam, he found the 
 court was at Ghent. To Ghent he went, and sought 
 an audience, but was put off and baffled by lackeys 
 and pages. So he threw himself in his sovereign's 
 way out hunting, and, contrary to all court precedents, 
 commenced the conversation — by roaring lustily for 
 mercy. 
 
 ' Why, where is the peril, man ? ' said the duke, 
 looking all round, and laughing. 
 
 ' Grace for an old soldier hunted down by burghers ! ' 
 
 Now kings differ in character like other folk ; but 
 there is one trait they have in common ; they are 
 mightily inclined to be affable to men of very low 
 estate indeed. These do not vie with them in any- 
 thing whatever, so jealousy cannot creep in ; and they 
 amuse them by their bluntness and novelty, and 
 refresh them with a touch of nature — a rarity in courts. 
 So Philip the Good reined in his horse and gave Martin 
 almost a tete-a-tete, and Martin reminded him of 
 a certain battle-field where he had received an arrow 
 intended for his sovereign. The Duke remembered
 
 166 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 the incident perfectly, and was graciously pleased to 
 take a cheerful view of it. He could afford to. Then 
 Martin told his sovereign of Gerard's first capture in 
 the church, his imprisonment in the tower, and the 
 manoeuvre by which they got him out, and all the 
 details of the hunt ; and, whether he told it better 
 than I have, or that the Duke had not heard so many 
 good stories as you have, certain it is the Duke got 
 so excited, that, when a number of courtiers came 
 galloping up and interrupted Martin, he swore like 
 a eostermonger and threatened, only half in jest, to 
 cut off the next head that should come between him 
 and a good story : and when Martin had done, he 
 said : — 
 
 ' St. Luke ! what sport goeth on in this mine 
 earldom — ayQ ! in my own woods, and I see it not. 
 You fellows have all the luck.' And he was indignant 
 at the partiality of Fortune. ' Lo you now ! this 
 was a man-hunt ! ' said he. ' / never had the luck 
 to be at a man-hunt.' 
 
 ' My luck was none so great,' replied Martin, 
 bluntly ; ' I was on the wrong side of the dogs' 
 noses.' 
 
 ' Ah ! so you were : I forgot that.' And royalty 
 was almost reconciled to its lot. ' What would you 
 then ? ' 
 
 ' A free pardon, your highness, for myself and 
 Gerard.' 
 
 ' For what ? ' 
 
 ' For prison-breaking.' 
 
 ' Go to : the bird will fly from the cage. 'Tis 
 instinct. Besides, coop a young man up for loving 
 a young woman ? These burgomasters must be void 
 of common sense. What else ? ' 
 
 ' For striking doM n the Burgomaster.' 
 
 ' Oh ! the hunted boar will turn to bay. 'Tis his
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 167 
 
 right, and I hold him less than man that grudges 
 it him. What else ? ' 
 
 ' For killing of the bloodhounds.' 
 
 The Duke's countenance fell. 
 
 ' 'Twas their life or mine,' said Martin eagerly. 
 
 ' Aye ! but I can't have my bloodhounds, my 
 beautiful bloodhounds, sacrificed to ' 
 
 ' No, no, no ! They were not your dogs.' 
 
 ' Whose then ? ' 
 
 ' The ranger's.' 
 
 ' Oh. Well, I am very sorry for him, but, as 1 
 was saying, I can't have my old soldiers sacrificed 
 to his bloodhounds. Thou shalt have thy free 
 pardon.' 
 
 ' And poor Gerard ? ' 
 
 ' And poor Gerard too, for thy sake. And more, 
 tell thou this Burgomaster his doings mislike me : 
 this is to set up for a king, not a burgomaster. I'll 
 have no kings in Holland but one. Bid him be more 
 humble, or by St. Jude I'll hang him before his own 
 door, as I hanged the Burgomaster of what 's the name, 
 some town or other in Flanders it was : no, 'twas 
 somewhere in Brabant — no matter — I hanged him, 
 I remember that much — for oppressing poor folk.' 
 
 The Duke then beckoned his chancellor, a pursy 
 old fellow that sat his horse like a sack, and bade 
 him write out a free pardon for Martin and one 
 Gerard. 
 
 This precious document was drawn up in form and 
 signed next day, and Martin hastened home with it. 
 
 Margaret had left her bed some daj's, and was 
 sitting pale and pensive by the fireside, when he 
 burst in, waving the parchment, and crying, ' A free 
 pardon, girl, for Gerard as well as me ! Send for him 
 back when you will ; all the burgomasters on earth 
 daren't lay a finger on him.'
 
 168 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 She flushed all over with joy, and her hands 
 trembled with eagerness as she took the parchment, 
 and devoured it with her eyes, and kissed it again 
 and again, and flung her arms round Martin's neck, 
 and kissed him. When she was calmer, she told him 
 Heaven had raised her up a friend in the dame Van 
 Eyck. ' And I would fain consult her on this good 
 news : but I have not strength to walk so far.' 
 
 ' What need to walk ? There is my mule.' 
 
 ' Your mule, Martin ? ' 
 
 The old soldier or professional pillager laughed, and 
 confessed he had got so used to her, that he forgot 
 at times Ghysbrecht had a prior claim. To-morrow 
 he would turn her into the Burgomaster's yard, but 
 to-night she should carry Margaret to Tergou. 
 
 It was nearly dusk ; so Margaret ventured, and 
 about seven in the evening she astonished and 
 gladdened her new but ardent friend by arriving at 
 her house — with unwonted roses on her cheeks, and 
 Gerard's pardon in her bosom. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 Some are old in heart at forty, some are young at 
 eighty. Margaret Van Eyck's heart was an ever- 
 green. She loved her young namesake with youthful 
 ardour. Nor was this new sentiment a mere caprice : 
 she was quick at reading character, and saw in 
 Margaret Brandt that which in one of her own sex 
 goes far with an intelligent woman — genuineness. 
 But, besides her own sterling qualities, Margaret 
 Brandt had from the first a potent ally in the old 
 artist's bosom. 
 
 Human nature. 
 
 Strange as it may appear to the unobservant, our
 
 170 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 hearts warm more readily to those we have benefited 
 than to our benefactors. Some of the Greek philo- 
 sophers noticed this ; but the British Homer has 
 stamped it in immortal lines : — 
 
 I heard, and thought how side by side 
 
 We two had stemmed the battle's tide 
 
 In many a well-debated field, 
 
 Where Bertram's breast was Philip's shield. 
 
 I thought on Darien's deserts pale, 
 
 Where Death bestrides the evening gale, 
 
 How o'er my friend my cloak I threw, 
 
 And fenceless faced the deadly dew. 
 
 I thought on Quariana's cliff. 
 
 Where, rescued from our foundering skiff, 
 
 Through the white breakers' wrath I bore 
 
 Exhausted Mortram to the shore ; 
 
 And when his side an arrow found, 
 
 I sucked the Indian's venom'd wound. 
 
 These thoughts like torrents rushed along 
 
 To sweep away my purpose strong. 
 
 Observe ! this assassin's hand is stayed by memory, 
 not of benefits received, but benefits conferred. 
 
 Now Margaret Van Eyck had been wonderfully 
 kind to Margaret Brandt ; had broken through her 
 own habits to go and see her ; had nursed her, and 
 soothed her, and petted her, and cured her more than 
 all the medicine in the world. So her heart opened 
 to the recipient of her goodness, and she loved her 
 now far more tenderly than she had ever loved Gerard, 
 though, in truth, it was purely out of regard for 
 Gerard she had visited her in the first instance. 
 
 When, therefore, she saw the unwonted roses on 
 Margaret's cheek, and read the bit of parchment 
 that had brought them there, she gave up iier own 
 views without a murmur.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 171 
 
 ' Sweetheart,' said she, ' I did desire he should stay 
 in Italy five or six years, and come back rich, and, 
 above all, an artist. But your happiness is before 
 all, and I see you can't live without him, so we must 
 have him home as fast as may be.' 
 
 ' Ah, madam ! you divine my very thoughts.' 
 And the young woman hung her head a moment 
 and blushed. ' But how to let him know, madam ? 
 That passes my skill. He is gone to Italy ; but what 
 part, that I know not. Stay ! he named the cities 
 he should visit. Florence was one, and Rome. But 
 then ' 
 
 Finally, being a sensible girl, she divined that a 
 letter, addressed ' My Gerard — Italy,' might chance 
 to miscarry, and she looked imj)loringly at her friend 
 for counsel. 
 
 ' You are come to the right place, and at the right 
 time,' said the old lady. ' Here was this Hans 
 Memhng with me to-day ; he is going to Italy, girl, 
 no later than next week — " to improve his hand," 
 he says. Not before 'twas needed, I do assure you.' 
 
 ' But how is he to find my Gerard ? ' 
 
 ' Why, he knows your Gerard, child. They have 
 supped here more than once, and were like hand 
 and glove. Now, as his business is the same as 
 Gerard's — ' 
 
 ' What ! he is a painter then ? ' 
 
 ' He passes for one. He will visit the same places 
 as Gerard, and, soon or late, he must fall in with him. 
 Wherefore, get you a long letter written, and copy 
 out this parclon into it, and I'll answer for the messen- 
 ger. In six months at farthest Gerard shall get it ; 
 and when he shall get it, then will he kiss it, and put 
 it in his bosom, and come flying home. What are you 
 smiling at ? And now what makes your cheeks so 
 red ? And what you are smothering me foi', I cannot
 
 172 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 think — My darling ! yes ! happy days are coming 
 to my little pearl.' 
 
 Meantime, Martin sat in the kitchen, with the 
 black-jack before him and Richt Heynes spinning 
 beside him : and, wow ! but she pumped him that 
 night. 
 
 This Hans Memling was an old pupil of Jan Van 
 Eyck and his sister. He was a painter, notwithstand- 
 ing Margaret's sneer, and a good soul enough, with 
 one fault. He loved the ' nipperkin, canakin, and 
 the brown bowl ' more than they deserve. This 
 singular penchant kept him from amassing fortune, 
 and was the cause that he often came to Margaret Van 
 Eyck for a meal, and sometimes for a groat. But 
 this gave her a claim on him, and she knew he would 
 not trifle with any commission she should entrust 
 to him. 
 
 The letter was duly written, and left with Margaret 
 Van Eyck ; and, the following week, sure enough, 
 Hans Memling returned from Flanders. Margaret 
 Van Eyck gave him the letter, and a piece of gold 
 towards his travelling expenses. He seemed in 
 a hurry to be off. 
 
 ' All the better,' said the old artist ; ' he will be 
 the sooner in Italy.' 
 
 But as there are horses who burn and rage to start, 
 and after the first yard or two want the whip, so all 
 this hurry cooled into inaction when Hans got as 
 far as the principal hostelry of Tergou, and saw two 
 of his boon companions sitting in the bay window. 
 He went in for a parting glass with them ; but when 
 he offered to pay, they would not hear of it. No ; 
 he was going a long journey ; they would treat him, — 
 everybody must treat him, the landlord and all. 
 
 It resulted from this treatment that his tongue
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 173 
 
 got as loose as if the wine had been oil ; and he con- 
 fided to the convivial crew that he was going to show 
 the Italians how to paint : next he sang his exploits 
 in battle, for he had handled a pike ; and his amorous 
 successes with females, luckily not present to oppose 
 their version of the incidents. In short, ' plenus 
 rimarum erat : hue illuc diffluebat : ' and among the 
 miscellaneous matters that oozed out, he must blab 
 that he was entrusted with a letter to a townsman 
 of theirs, one Gerard, a good fellow. He added : 
 ' you are all good fellows : ' and he slapped Sybrandt 
 on the back so heartily, that the breath was driven 
 out of his body. 
 
 Sybrandt on this got a long way off ; but listened 
 to every word, and learned for the first time that 
 Gerard was gone to Italy. However, to make sure, 
 he affected to doubt it. 
 
 ' My brother Gerard is never in Italy.' 
 
 ' Ye lie, ye cur,' roared Hans, taking instantly 
 tlie irascible turn, and not remarking that he who 
 now sat opposite him was the same he had eulogized, 
 and hit, when beside him. ' If he was ten times 
 your brother, he is in Italy. What call ye this ? 
 There, read me that superscription ! ' and he flung 
 down a letter on the table. 
 
 Sybrandt took it up and examined it gravely ; 
 but eventually laid it down, with the remark that 
 he could not read. However, one of the company, 
 by some immense fortuity, could read ; and, proud 
 of so rare an accomplishment, took it and read it out : 
 ' To Gerard Gerardson, of Tergou. These by the hand 
 of the trusty Hans Memling, with all speed.' 
 
 ' 'Tis excellently well writ,' said the reader, 
 examining every letter. 
 
 ' Aye ! ' said Hans, bombastically, ' and small 
 wonder : 'tis wiit by a famous hand ; by Margaret,
 
 174 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 sister of Jan Van Eyck. Blessed and honoured be 
 his memory ! She is an old friend of mine, is Margaret 
 Van Eyck.' 
 
 Miscellaneous Hans then diverged into forty topics. 
 
 Sybrandt stole out of the company, and went in 
 search of Cornelis. 
 
 They put their heads together over the news : 
 Italy was an immense distance off. If they could 
 only keep him there ? 
 
 ' Keep him there ? Nothing would keep him long 
 from his Margaret.' 
 
 ' Curse her ! ' said Sybrandt. ' Why didn't she 
 die when she was about it ! ' 
 
 ' She die ! She would outlive the pest to vex us.' 
 And he was wroth at her selfishness in not dying, 
 to oblige. 
 
 These two black sheep kept putting their heads 
 together, and tainting each other worse and worse, 
 till at last their corrupt hearts conceived a plan for 
 keeping Gerard in Italy all his life, and so securing 
 his share of their father's substance. 
 
 But when they had planned it they were no nearer 
 the execution ; for that required talent : so iniquity 
 came to a standstill. But presently, as if Satan had 
 come between the two heads, and whispered into the 
 right ear of one and the left of the other simultane- 
 ously, they both burst out at once with the same word. 
 
 ' THE BURGOMASTER ! ' 
 
 They went to Ghysbrecht Van Swieten, and he 
 received them at once : for the man who is under the 
 torture of suspense catches eagerly at knowledge. 
 Certainty is often painful, but seldom, like suspense, 
 intolerable. 
 
 ' You have news of Gerard ? ' said he eagerly. 
 
 Then they told about the letter and Hans Memling.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 175 
 
 He listened with restless eye. ' Who writ this 
 letter ? ' 
 
 ' Margaret Van Eyck,' was the reply : for they 
 naturally thought the contents were by the same 
 hand as the superscription. 
 
 ' Are ye sure ? ' And he went to a drawer and 
 drew out a paper written by Margaret Van Eyck 
 while treating with the Burgh for her house. ' Was 
 it writ like this ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. 'Tis the same writing,' said Sybrandt, 
 boldly. 
 
 ' Good ! And now what would ye of me V ' said 
 Ghysbrecht, with beating heart, but a carelessness 
 so well feigned that it staggered them. They fumbled 
 with their bonnets, and stammered and spoke a word 
 or two, then hesitated and beat about the bush, and 
 let out by degrees that they wanted a letter written, 
 to say something that would be sure to keep Gerard 
 in Italy, and this letter they proposed to substitute 
 in Hans Memling's wallet for the one he carried. 
 While these fumbled with their bonnets and their 
 iniquity, and vacillated between respect for a burgo- 
 master and their knowledge that this one was as 
 great a rogue as themselves, and, somehow or other, on 
 their side against Gerard, pros and cons were coursing 
 one another to and fro in the keen old man's spirit. 
 Vengeance said let Gerard come back and feel the 
 weight of the law. Prudence said keep him a 
 thousand miles off. But then prudence said also, 
 why do dirty work on a doubtful chance ? Why put 
 it in the power of these two rogues to tarnish your 
 name V Finally, his strong persuasion that Gerard 
 was in possession of a secret by means of which he 
 could wound him to the quick, coupled with his 
 caution, resulted thus : ' It is my duty to aid the 
 citizens that cannot write. But for their matter
 
 176 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 I will not be responsible. Tell me, then, what I shall 
 write.' 
 
 ' Something about this Margaret.' 
 
 ' Aye, aye ! that she is false, that she is married to 
 another, I'll go bail.' 
 
 ' Nay, Burgomaster, nay ! not for all the world ! ' 
 cried Sybrandt ; ' Gerard would not believe it, or 
 but half, and then he would come back to see. No ; 
 say that she is dead.' 
 
 ' Dead ! what at her age ? will he credit that ? ' 
 
 ' Sooner than the other ? Why she was nearly dead, 
 so it is not to say a downright lie, after all.' 
 
 ' Humph ? And you think that will keep him in 
 Italy ? ' 
 
 ' We are sure of it, are we not, Cornells ? ' 
 
 ' Aye,' said Cornells, ' our Gerard will never leave 
 Italy now he is there. It was always his dream to 
 get there. He would come back for his Margaret, 
 but not for us. What cares he for us ? He despises 
 his own family — always did.' 
 
 ' This would be a bitter pill to him,' said the old 
 hypocrite. 
 
 ' It will be for his good in the end,' rephed the 
 young one. 
 
 ' What avails Famine wedding Thirst,' said Cornells. 
 
 ' And the grief you are preparing for him so coolly : ' 
 Ghysbrecht spoke sarcastically, but tasted his own 
 vengeance all the time. 
 
 ' Oh, a lie is not like a blow with a curtal axe. 
 It hacks no flesh, and breaks no bones.' 
 
 ' A curtal axe ! ' said Sybrandt ; ' no, nor even 
 like a stroke with a cudgel ! ' and he shot a sly 
 envenomed glance at the Burgomaster's broken nose. 
 
 Ghysbrecht's face turned white with ire when this 
 adder's tongue struck his wound. But it told, as 
 intended : the old man bristled with hate.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 177 
 
 ' Well,' said he, ' tell me what to write for you, 
 and I must write it : but, take notice, you bear the 
 blame if aught turns amiss. Not the hand which 
 writes, but the tongue which dictates, doth the deed.' 
 
 The brothers assented warmly, sneering within. 
 Ghysbrecht then drew his inkhorn towards him, and 
 laid the specimen of Margaret Van Eyck's writing 
 before him, and made some inquiries as to the size 
 and shape of the letter ; when an unlooked for inter- 
 ruption occurred ; Jorian Ketel burst hastily into 
 the room, and looked vexed at not finding him alone. 
 
 ' Thou seest I have matter on hand, good fellow.' 
 
 ' Aye ; but this is grave. I bring good news ; but 
 'tis not for every ear.' 
 
 The Burgomaster rose, and drew Jorian aside into 
 the embrasure of his deep window, and then the 
 brothers heard them converse in low but eager tones. 
 It ended by Ghysbrecht sending Jorian out to saddle 
 his mule. He then addressed the black sheep with 
 a sudden coldness that amazed them : 
 
 ' I value the peace of families ; but this is not 
 a thing to be done in a hurry : we will see about it, 
 we will see.' 
 
 ' But, Burgomaster, the man will be gone. It will 
 be too late.' 
 
 ' Where is he ? ' 
 
 ' At the hostelry, drinking.' 
 
 ' Well, keep him drinking. We will see, we will 
 see.' And he sent them off discomfited. 
 
 To explain all this we must retrograde a step. 
 This very morning, then, Margaret Brandt had met 
 Jorian Ketel near her own door. He passed her with 
 a scowl. This struck her, and she remembered him. 
 
 ' Stay,' said she. ' Yes ! it is the good man who 
 saved him. Oh ! why have you not been near me 
 
 REAPE iq-
 
 178 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 since ? And why have you not come for the parch- 
 ments ? Was it not true about the hundred crowns ? ' 
 
 Jorian gave a snort : but, seeing her face that 
 looked so candid, began to think there might be 
 some mistake. He told her he had come, and how 
 he had been received. 
 
 ' Alas ! ' said she, ' I knew nought of this. I lay 
 at death's door,' She then invited him to follow 
 her, and took him into the garden and showed him 
 the spot where the parchments were buried. ' Martin 
 was for taking them up, but I would not let him. 
 He put them there, and I said none should move them 
 but you, who had earned them so well of him and me.' 
 
 ' Give me a spade ! ' cried Jorian, eagerly. ' But 
 stop ! No ; he is a suspicious man. You are sure 
 they are there still ? ' 
 
 ' Sure ? I will openly take the blame if human 
 hand hath touched them.' 
 
 ' Then keep them but two hours more, I prithee, 
 good Margaret,' said Jorian, and ran off to the 
 Stadthouse of Tergou a joyful man. 
 
 The rest you have divined. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 The Burgomaster was also a joyful man as he 
 jogged along towards Sevenbergen, with Jorian 
 striding beside him, giving him assurance that in 
 an hour's time the missing parchments would be in 
 his hand. 
 
 ' Ah, master ! ' said he, ' lucky for us it wasn't 
 a thief that took them.' 
 
 ' Not a thief ? not a thief ? what call vou him, 
 then ? '
 
 CHAPTER XXX 179 
 
 ' Well, saving your presence, I call him a jackdaw. 
 This is a piece of jackdaw's work, if ever there was ; 
 take the thing you are least in want of, and hide it — 
 that 's a jackdaw. I should know,' added Jorian, 
 oracularly, ' for I was brought up with a jackdaw. 
 He and I were born the same year, but he cut his 
 teeth long before me, and, wow ! but my life was 
 a burden for years all along of him. If you had but 
 a hole in your hose no bigger than a groat, in went 
 his beak like a gimlet ; and in the matter of stealing 
 he was Gerard all over. What he wanted least, and 
 any poor Christian in the house wanted most, that 
 went first. Mother was a notable woman, so if she 
 did but look round, away flew her thimble. Father 
 lived by cordwaining, so about sunrise Jack went 
 diligently away with his awl, his wax, and his twine. 
 After that, make your bread how you could ! One day 
 I heard my mother tell him to his face he was enough 
 to corrupt half a dozen children ; and he only cocked 
 his eye at her, and next minute away with the nurse- 
 ling's shoe off his very foot. Now this Gerard is 
 tarred with the same stick. The parchments are no 
 more unto him than a thimble or an awl to Jack. 
 He took 'em out of pure mischief and hid them, and 
 you would never have found them but for me.' 
 
 ' I believe you are right,' said Ghysbrecht, ' and 
 I have vexed myself more than need.' 
 
 When they came to Peter's gate he felt uneasy. 
 
 ' I wish it had been anywhere but here.' 
 
 Jorian reassured him. 
 
 ' The girl is honest and friendly,' said he. ' She 
 had nothing to do with taking them, I'll be sworn ! ' 
 and he led him into the garden. ' There, master, 
 if a face is to be believed, here they lie ; and, see, 
 the mould is loose.' 
 
 He ran for a spade which was stuck up in the ground 
 
 N 2
 
 180 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 at some distance, and soon went to work and un- 
 covered a parchment. Ghysbrecht saw it, and thrust 
 him aside and went down on his knees and tore it 
 out of the hole. His hands trembled and his face 
 shone. He threw out parchment after parchment, 
 and Jorian dusted them and cleaned them and shook 
 them. Now, when Ghysbrecht had thrown out a great 
 many, his face began to darken and lengthen, and 
 when he came to the last he put his hands to his 
 temples and seemed to be all amazed. Then a chill 
 traversed his frame. 
 
 ' What mystery lies here ? ' he gasped. ' Are fiends 
 mocking me ? Dig deeper ! There must be another ! ' 
 
 Jorian drove the spade in and threw out quantities 
 of hard mould. In vain. And even while he dug, 
 his master's mood had changed. 
 
 ' Treason ! treachery ! ' he cried. ' You knew of 
 this ! ' 
 
 ' Knew what, master, in heaven's name ? ' 
 
 ' Caitiff, you knew there was another one worth 
 all these twice told.' 
 
 ' 'Tis false ! ' cried Jorian, made suspicious by the 
 other's suspicion. ' 'Tis a trick to rob me of my 
 hundred crowns. Oh ! I know you. Burgomaster.' 
 And Jorian was ready to whimper. 
 
 A sweet voice fell on them both like oil upon the 
 waves. ' No, good man, it is not false, nor yet is 
 it quite true : there was another parchment.' 
 
 ' There, there, there ! Where is it ? ' 
 
 ' But,' continued Margaret calmly, 'it was not 
 a town record (so you have gained your hundred 
 crowns, good man) : it was but a private deed between 
 the Burgomaster here and my grandfather Flor ' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! ' 
 
 ' — is Brandt.' 
 
 ' Where is it, girl ? that is all we want to know.'
 
 CHAPTER XXX 181 
 
 ' Have patience, and I shall tell you. Gerard read 
 the title of it, and he said, " This is as much yours as 
 the Burgomaster's," and he put it apart, to read it 
 with me at his leisure.' 
 
 ' It is in the house, then ? ' said the Burgomaster, 
 recovering his calmness. 
 
 ' No, su-,' said Margaret, gravely, ' it is not.' 
 Then, in a broken voice, ' You hunted — my poor 
 Gerard — so hard — and so close — that you gave 
 him — no time — to think of aught — but his life — 
 and his grief. — The parchment was in his bosom, and 
 he hath ta'en it with him.' 
 
 ' Whither, whither ? ' 
 
 ' Ask me no more, sir. What right have you to 
 question me thus ? It was for your sake, good man, 
 I put force upon my heart, and bore to speak at all 
 to this hard old man. For, when I think of the 
 misery he has brought on him and me, the sight of 
 him is almost more than I can bear : ' and she gave 
 an involuntary shudder, and went away crying 
 bitterly. 
 
 Remorse for the past, and dread of the future — 
 the slow, but, as he now felt, the inevitable future — 
 avarice and fear, all tugged in one short moment 
 at this tough heart. Ghysbrecht hung his head, and 
 his arms fell listless by his sides. A coarse chuckle 
 made him start round, and there stood Martin Witten- 
 haagen leaning on his bow, and sneering from ear to 
 ear. At sight of the man and his grinning face, 
 Ghysbrecht's worse passions awoke. 
 
 ' Ho ! attack him, seize him, traitor and thief ! ' 
 cried he. ' Dog, thou shalt pay for all.' 
 
 Martin, without a word, calmly produced the Duke's 
 pardon. Ghysbrecht looked and had not a word to 
 say. Martin followed up his advantage. 
 
 ' The Duke and I are soldiers. He won't let you
 
 182 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 greasy burghers trample on an old comrade. He 
 bade me carry you a message too.' 
 
 ' The Duke send a message to me ? ' 
 
 ' Aye ! I told him of your masterful doings, of your 
 imprisoning Gerard for loving a girl, and says he, 
 " Tell him this is to be a king, not a burgomaster. 
 I'll have no kings in Holland but one. Bid him be 
 more humble, or I'll hang him at his own door " ' 
 
 Ghysbrecht trembled. He thought the Duke 
 capable of the deed. 
 
 ' " — 'as I hanged the Burgomaster of Thingembob." 
 The Duke could not mind which of you he had hung, 
 or in what part ; such trifles don't stick in a soldier's 
 memory, but he was sure he had hanged one of you 
 for grinding poor folk, " and I'm the man to hang 
 another," said the good Duke.' 
 
 These repeated insults from so mean a man, coupled 
 with his invulnerability, shielded as he was by the 
 Duke, drove the choleric old man into a fit of impotent 
 fury : he shook his fist at the soldier, and tried to 
 threaten him, but could not speak for the rage and 
 mortification that choked him : then he gave a sort 
 of screech, and coiled himself up in eye and form 
 like a rattle-snake about to strike ; and spat furiously 
 upon Martin's doublet. 
 
 The thick-skinned soldier treated this ebullition 
 with genuine contempt. ' Here's a venomous old 
 toad ! he knows a kick from this foot would send 
 him to his last home ; and he wants me to cheat the 
 gallows. But I have slain too many men in fair fight 
 to lift limb against anything less than a man : and 
 this I count no man. What is it, in Heaven's name ? 
 An old goat's-skin bag full o' rotten bones.' 
 
 ' My mule ! my mule ! ' screamed Ghysbrecht. 
 
 Jorian helped the old man up, trembling in every 
 joint. Once in the saddle, he seemed to gather in
 
 
 

 
 184 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 a moment unnatural vigour ; and the figure that went 
 flying to Tergou was truly weird-like and terrible : 
 so old and wizened the face ; so white and reverend 
 the streaming hair ; so baleful the eye ; so fierce the 
 fury which shook the bent frame that went spurring 
 like mad ; while the quavering voice yelled, ' I'll make 
 their hearts ache ! — I'll make their hearts ache ! — 
 I'll make their hearts ache ! — I'll make their hearts 
 ache ! All of them ! All !— all !— all ! ' 
 
 The black sheep sat disconsolate amidst the con- 
 vivial crew, and eyed Hans Memling's wallet. For 
 more ease he had taken it off, and flung it on the 
 table. How readily they could have taken out that 
 letter and put in another. For the first time in their 
 lives they were sorry they had not learned to write, 
 like their brother. 
 
 And now Hans Memling began to talk of going, 
 and the brothers agreed in a whisper to abandon 
 their project for the time. They had scarcely resolved 
 this, when Dierich Brower stood suddenly in the door- 
 way, and gave them a wink. 
 
 They went to him. ' Come to the Burgomaster 
 with all speed,' said he. 
 
 They found Ghysbrecht seated at a table, pale and 
 agitated. Before him lay Margaret Van Eyck's 
 handwriting. ' I have written what you desired,' 
 said he. ' Now for the superscription. What were 
 the words ? did ye see ? ' 
 
 ' We cannot read,' said Cornelis. 
 
 ' Then is all this labour lost,' cried Ghysbrecht 
 angrily. ' Dolts ! ' 
 
 ' Nay, but,' said Sybrandt, ' I heard the words 
 read, and I have not lost them. They were, " To 
 Gerard Gerardssoen, these by the hand of the trusty 
 Hans Memling with all speed." '
 
 CHAPTER XXX 185 
 
 ( )r 
 
 'Tis well. Now, how was the letter folded ? how 
 big was it ? ' 
 
 ' Longer than this one, and not so long as this.' 
 
 "Tis well. Where is he?' 
 
 ' At the hostelry.' 
 
 ' Come, then, take you this groat, and treat him. 
 Then ask to see the letter, and put this in place of it. 
 Come to me with the other letter.' 
 
 The brothers assented, took the letter, and went 
 to the hostelry. 
 
 They had not been gone a minute, when Dierich 
 Brower issued from the Stadthouse, and followed them. 
 He had his orders not to let them out of his sight 
 till the true letter was in his master's hands. He 
 watched outside the hostelry. 
 
 He had not long to wait. They came out almost 
 immediately, with downcast looks. Dierich made up 
 to them. 
 
 ' Too late ! ' they cried ; ' too late ! He is gone ! ' 
 
 ' Gone ! How long '! ' 
 
 ' Scarce five minutes. Cursed chance ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 * You must come to the Burgomaster at once,' 
 said Dierich Brower. 
 
 ' To what end ? ' 
 
 ' No matter ; come : ' and he hurried them to the 
 Stadthouse. 
 
 Ghysbrecht Van Swieten was not the man to accept 
 a defeat. ' Well,' said he, on hearing the ill news, 
 ' suppose he is gone. Is he mounted ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Then what hinders you to come up with him 'i '
 
 186 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' But what avails coming up with him ; there are 
 no hostehies on the road he is gone.' 
 
 ' Fools ! ' said Ghysbrecht, ' is there no way of 
 emptying a man's pockets but liquor and sleight of 
 hand ? ' 
 
 A meaning look, that passed between Ghysbrecht 
 and Dierich, aided the brothers' comprehension. 
 They changed colour, and lost all zeal for the business. 
 
 ' No ! no ! we won't get ourselves hanged to spite 
 Gerard,' said Sybrandt ; ' that would be a fool's trick.' 
 
 ' Hanged ? ' cried Ghysbrecht. ' Am I not the 
 Burgomaster ? How can ye be hanged ? I see how 
 'tis : ye fear to tackle one man, being two : hearts 
 of hare, that ye are ! Oh ! why cannot I be young 
 again ? I'd do it single-handed.' 
 
 The old man now threw ofif all disguise, and showed 
 them his heart was in this deed. He then flattered 
 and besought, and jeered them alternately, but he 
 found no eloquence could move them to an action, 
 however dishonourable, which was attended with 
 danger. At last he opened a drawer, and showed 
 them a pile of silver coins. 
 
 ' Change but those letters for me,' he said, ' and 
 each of you shall thrust one hand into this drawer 
 and take away as many of them as you can hold.' 
 
 The effect was magical. Their eyes glittered with 
 desire. Their whole bodies seemed to swell, and rise 
 into male energy. 
 
 ' Swear it, then,' said Sybrandt. 
 
 ' I swear it.' 
 
 ' No. On the crucifix.' 
 
 Ghysbrecht swore upon the crucifix. 
 
 The next minute the brothers were on the road, 
 in pursuit of Hans Memling. They came in sight of 
 him about two leagues from Tcrgou : but though 
 they knew he had no weapon but his staff, they were
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 187 
 
 too prudent to venture on him in daylight ; no they 
 fell back. 
 
 But being now three leagues and more from the 
 town, and on a grassy road, — sun down, moon not 
 yet up, — honest Hans suddenly found himself attacked 
 before and behind at once by men with uplifted 
 knives, who cried in loud though somewhat shaky 
 voices, ' Stand and deliver.' 
 
 The attack was so sudden, and so well planned, 
 that Hans was dismayed. ' Slay me not, good 
 fellows,' he cried : ' I am but a poor man, and ye shall 
 have my all.' 
 
 ' So be it then. Live ! But empty thy wallet.' 
 
 ' Tliere is nought in my wallet, good friends, but 
 one letter.' 
 
 ' That we shall see,' said Sybrandt, who was the 
 one in front. ' Well : it is a letter.' 
 
 ' Take it not from me, I pray you. 'Tis worth 
 nought, and the good dame would fret that writ it.' 
 
 ' There,' said Sybrandt, ' take back thy letter ; 
 and now empty thy pouch. Come ! tarry not ! ' 
 
 But by this time Hans had recovered his confusion : 
 and, by a certain flutter in Sybrandt, and hard 
 breathing of Cornells, aided by an indescribable 
 consciousness, felt sure the pair he had to deal with 
 were no heroes. He pretended to fumble for his 
 money : then suddenly thrust his staff firmly into 
 Sybrandt's face, and drove him staggering, and lent 
 Cornells a back-handed slash on the ear that sent 
 him twirling : then whirled his weapon over his 
 head and danced about the road like a man on springs, 
 shouting ' Come on, ye thieving loons ! Come on ! ' 
 
 By ' come ' they understood ' go ', and took to 
 their heels directly, with Hans after them, he shouting 
 ' Stop thieves ! ' and they howling with fear and pain 
 as they ran.
 
 188 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 About this time a change passed over Margaret 
 Brandt. She went about her household duties like 
 one in a dream. If Peter did but speak a little 
 quickly to her, she started and fixed two terrified 
 eyes on him. She went less often to her friend 
 Margaret Van Eyck, and was ill at her ease when there. 
 Instead of meeting her warm old friend's caresses, 
 she used to receive them passive and trembling, and 
 sometimes almost shrink from them. But the most 
 extraordinary thing was, she never would go outside 
 her own house in daylight. When she went to Tergou 
 it was after dusk, and she returned before daybreak. 
 She would not even go to matins. At last Peter, 
 unobservant as he was, noticed it, and asked her the 
 reason. 
 
 ' THE FOLK ALL LOOK AT ME SO.' 
 
 One day, Margaret Van Eyck asked her what was 
 the matter. A scared look and a flood of tears were 
 all the reply : the old lady expostulated gently. 
 ' What, sweetheart, afraid to confide your sorrows 
 to me ? ' 
 
 ' I have no sorrows, madam, but of my own making. 
 I am kinder treated than I deserve — especially in 
 this house.' 
 
 ' Then why not come oftener, my dear ? ' 
 
 ' I come oftener than I deserve : ' and she sighed 
 deeply. 
 
 ' There, Richt is crying out for you,' said Mar- 
 garet Van Eyck ; ' go, child ! — what on earth can 
 it be ? ' 
 
 Turning possibilities over in her mind, she thought
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 189 
 
 Margaret must be mortified at the contempt with 
 which she was treated by Gerard's family. ' I will 
 take them to task for it, at least such of them as are 
 women ; ' and the very next day she put on her hood 
 and cloak, and followed by Richt went to the hosier's 
 house. Catherine received her with much respect, 
 and thanked her with tears for her kindness to Gerard. 
 But when, encouraged by this, her visitor diverged 
 to Margaret Brandt, Catherine's eyes dried, and her 
 lips turned to half the size, and she looked as only 
 obstinate, ignorant women can look. When they 
 put on this cast of features, you might as well try to 
 soften or convince a brick wall. Margaret Van Eyck 
 tried, but all in vain. So then, not being herself 
 used to be thwarted, she got provoked, and at last 
 went out hastily with an abrupt and mutilated 
 curtsey, which Catherine returned with an air rather 
 of defiance than obeisance. Outside the door Mar- 
 garet Van Eyck found Richt conversing with a pale 
 girl on crutches. Margaret Van Eyck was passing 
 them with heightened colour, and a scornful toss 
 intended for the whole family, when suddenly a 
 little delicate hand glided timidly into hers, and 
 looking round she saw two dove-like eyes, with 
 the water in them, that sought hers gratefully, 
 and, at the same time, imploringly. The old lady 
 read this wonderful look, complex as it was, and 
 down went her choler. She stooped and kissed 
 Kate's brow. ' I see,' said she. ' Mind, then, I 
 leave it to you.' Returned home, she said, — ' I have 
 been to a house to-day where I have seen a very 
 common thing and a very uncommon thing : I have 
 seen a stupid, obstinate woman, and I have seen 
 an angel in the flesh, with a face — if I had it 
 here I'd take down my brushes once more, and try 
 and paint it.'
 
 190 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 Little Kate did not belie the good opinion so 
 hastily formed of her. She waited a better oppor- 
 tunity, and told her mother what she had learned 
 from Richt Heynes, that Margaret had shed her very 
 blood for Gerard in the wood. 
 
 ' See, mother, how she loves him.' 
 
 ' Who would not love him ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, mother, think of it ! Poor thing ! ' 
 
 ' Aye, wench. She has her own trouble, no doubt, 
 as well as we ours. I can't abide the sight of blood, 
 let alone my own.' 
 
 This was a point gained ; but when Kate had to 
 follow it up she was stopped short. 
 
 About a month after this a soldier of the Dalgetty 
 tribe, returning from service in Tuscany, brought 
 a letter one evening to the hosier's house. He was 
 away on business : but the rest of the family sat at 
 supper. The soldier laid the letter on the table by 
 Catherine, and telling them he had his guerdon for 
 bringing it, went off to Sevenbergen. 
 
 Although for a long time they had hoped and 
 expected this, yet when it did come it took them by 
 surprise. 
 
 The letter was unfolded and spread out : and 
 curiously enough, though not one of them could read, 
 they could all tell it was Gerard's handwriting. 
 
 ' And your father must be away,' cried Catherine. 
 ' Are ye not ashamed of yourselves ? not one that 
 can read your brother's letter ? ' 
 
 But although the words were to them what hiero- 
 glyphics are to us, there was something in the letter 
 they could read. There is an art can speak without 
 words : unfettered by the penman's limits, it can 
 steal through the eye into the heart and brain, alike 
 of the learned and unlearned, and it can cross 
 a frontier or a sea, yet lose nothing. It is at the
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 191 
 
 mercy of no translator : for it writes a universal 
 language. 
 
 When, therefore, they saw this, 
 
 which Gerard had drawn with his pencil between 
 the two short paragraphs of which his letter con- 
 sisted, they read it, and it went straight to their 
 hearts. 
 
 Gerard was bidding them farewell. 
 
 As they gazed on that simple sketch, in every turn 
 and line of which they recognized his manner, Gerard 
 seemed present, and bidding them farewell. 
 
 The women wept over it till they could see it no 
 longer. 
 
 Giles said, ' Poor Gerard ! ' in a lower voice than 
 seemed to belong to him. 
 
 Even Cornelis and Sybrandt felt a momentary 
 remorse, and sat enjoying it gloomily. 
 
 But how to get the words read to them. They 
 were loath to show their ignorance and emotion — 
 both to a stranger. 
 
 ' The Dame Van Eyck ? ' said Kate, timidly. 
 
 ' And so I will, Kate. She has a good heart. 
 She loves Gerard, too. She will be glad to hear of 
 him. I was short with her when she came here, but
 
 192 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 I will make my submission, and then she will tell me 
 what my poor child says to me.' 
 
 She was soon at Margaret Van Eyck's house. 
 Richt took her into a room, and said, ' Bide a minute ; 
 she is at her orisons.' 
 
 There was a young woman in the room seated 
 pensively by the stove ; but she rose and courteously 
 made way for the visitor. 
 
 ' Thank you, young lady ; the winter nights are 
 cold, and your stove is inviting.' Catherine then, 
 while warming her hands, inspected her companion 
 furtively from head to foot, both inclusive. The 
 young person wore an ordinary wimple, but her gown 
 was trimmed with fur, which was, in those days, 
 almost a sign of superior rank or wealth. But what 
 most struck Catherine was the candour and modesty 
 of the face. She felt sure of sympathy from so good 
 a countenance, and began to gossip. 
 
 ' Now, what think you brings me here, gay lady ? 
 It is a letter : a letter from my poor boy that is far 
 away in some savage part or other. And I take 
 shame that none of us can read it. I wonder whether 
 you can read ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' Can ye, now ? It is much to your credit, my dear. 
 I dare say she won't be long ; but every minute is 
 an hour to a poor longing mother ! ' 
 
 ' I will read it to you.' 
 
 ' Bless you, my dear ; bless you ! ' 
 
 In her unfeigned eagerness she never noticed the 
 suppressed eagerness with which the hand was slowly 
 put out to take the letter. She did not see the tremor 
 with which the fingers closed on it. 
 
 ' Come, then, read it to me, prithee. I am wearying 
 for it.' 
 
 ' The first words are, " To my honoured parents." '
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 193 
 
 ' Aye ! and he always did honour us, poor soul.' 
 
 ' " God and the saints have you in his holy keeping, 
 and bless you by night and by day. Your one harsh 
 deed is forgotten ; your years of love remembered." ' 
 
 Catherine laid her hand on her bosom, and sank 
 back in her chair with one heart-broken sob. 
 
 ' Then comes this, madam. It speaks for itself. 
 " A long adieu." ' 
 
 ' Aye, go on, bless you, girl ; you give me sorry 
 comfort. Still, 'tis comfort.' 
 
 ' " To my brothers Cornells and Sybrandt : — Be 
 content. You will see me no more ! " ' 
 
 ' What does that mean ? Ah ! has he seen what 
 I have : or more.' 
 
 ' " To my sister Kate. Little angel of my father's 
 house. Be kind to her — " Ah ! ' 
 
 ' That is Margaret Brandt, my dear, — his sweet- 
 heart, poor soul, I've not been kind to her. Forgive 
 me, Gerard ! ' 
 
 ' " — for poor Gerard's sake : since grief to her is 
 
 death — to — me " Ah ! ' And nature, resenting 
 
 the poor girl's struggle for unnatural composure, 
 suddenly gave way, and she sank from her chair and 
 lay insensible, with her head on Catherine's knees. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 Experienced women are not frightened when 
 a woman faints, nor do they hastily attribute it to 
 anything but those physical causes which they have 
 often seen produce it, Catherine bustled about ; 
 laid the girl down with her head on the floor quite 
 flat, opened the window, and unloosed her dress as 
 she lay. Not till she had done all this did she step 
 to the door and say, rather loudly : 
 
 BEASB O
 
 194 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' Come here, if you please.' 
 
 Margaret Van Eyck and Riclit came and found 
 Margaret lying quite fiat, and Catherine beating her 
 hands. 
 
 ' Oh, my poor girl ! What has happened ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, madam ; nothing more than is natural 
 in her situation.' 
 
 ' My poor Margaret ! ' 
 
 ' Margaret ? What, not Margaret Brandt ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ! this is the poor girl you are so bitter 
 against. She is coming to, thank Heaven.' 
 
 ' Me bitter ? Well, so I was ; but my heart is turned 
 towards her somehow, as if she was my own child — 
 all in one moment. What, sweetheart ? Be not 
 frightened, none are here but friends. And to think 
 of my setting her to read me the letter — poor 
 thing ! ' 
 
 They seated her in an easy chair. As the colour 
 was creeping back to her face and lips, Catherine 
 drew Margaret Van Eyck aside. 
 
 ' I would not let her go home to-night.' 
 
 To enforce this she whispered a few words. 
 Margaret Van Eyck started at them, and without 
 going out of a whisper, went into a passion. 
 
 ' It 's false ! it is a calumny ! it is monstrous ! 
 Look at her face. It is blasphemy to accuse such 
 a face.' 
 
 ' Tut ! tut ! tut ! ' said the other, ' you might 
 as well say this is not my hand. I ought to know. 
 I have had a dozen, besides the numbers I have seen. 
 I tell ye it is 50.' 
 
 And much to Margaret Van Eyck's surprise she 
 went up to the girl, and, taking her round the neck, 
 kissed her warmly. ' I suffered for Gerard, and you 
 shed your blood for him I do hear : his own words 
 show me I have been to blame. I've held aloof from
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 195 
 
 you. But I'll make it up to you once I begin. You 
 are my daughter from this hour.' 
 
 Another warm embrace sealed this hasty compact, 
 and the woman of impulse was gone. 
 
 Margaret lay back in her chair, and a feeble smile 
 stole over her face. Gerard's mother had kissed her 
 and called her daughter ; but the next moment she 
 saw her old friend looking at her with a solemnity 
 and sadness that were quite new. 
 
 She slid from her chair to her knees, and prayed 
 piteously to the old dame for pardon. From the 
 words and the manner of her penitence a bystander 
 would have gathered she had inflicted some cruel 
 wrong, and intolerable insult, upon her venerable 
 friend. 
 
 The little party at the hosier's house sat at table 
 discussing the recent event, when then mother 
 returned, and casting a piercing glance all round the 
 little circle, laid the letter flat on the table. She 
 repeated every word of it, following the lines with 
 her finger. Then, suddenly lifting her head, she cast 
 another keen look on Cornells and Sybrandt : their 
 eyes fell. 
 
 Then the storm that had long been brewing burst 
 on their heads. 
 
 Catherine seemed to swell like an angry hen ruffling 
 her feathers, and out of her mouth came a Rhone 
 and Saone of wisdom and twaddle, of great and mean 
 invective, such as no male that ever was born could 
 utter in one current ; and not many women. 
 
 ' I have long had my doubts that you blew the 
 flame betwixt Gerard and your father, and set that 
 old rogue, Ghysbrecht, on. And now here are 
 Gerard's own written words to prove it. You have 
 driven your own flesh and blood into a far land, and 
 
 02
 
 196 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 robbed the mother that bore you of her darling, the 
 pride of her eye, the joy of her heart. But you are 
 all of a piece from end to end. When you were all 
 boys together, my others were a comfort ; but you 
 were a curse : mischievous and sly ; and it took 
 a woman half her day to keep your clothes whole : 
 for why ? work wears cloth, but play cuts it. With 
 the beard comes prudence : but none came to you : 
 still the last to go to bed, and the last to leave it ; 
 and why ? because honesty goes to bed early, and 
 industry rises betimes. Where there are two lie- 
 abeds in a house there are a pair of ne'er-do-weels. 
 Often I've sat and looked at your ways, and wondered 
 where you came from : you don't take after your 
 father, and you are no more like me than a wasp 
 is to an ant ; sure you were changed in the cradle, 
 or the cuckoo dropped ye on my floor : for you have 
 not our hands, nor our hearts : of all my blood none 
 but you ever jeered them that God afflicted ; but 
 often when my back was turned I've heard you mock 
 at Giles, because he is not so big as some ; and at 
 my lily Kate (that is poor, dear Gerard's word), 
 because she is not so strong as a Flanders mare. 
 After that rob a church an you will ! for you can be 
 no worse in His eyes that made both Kate and Giles, 
 and in mine that suffered for them, poor darlings, 
 as I did for you, you paltry, unfeeling, treasonable 
 curs ! No I will not hush, my daughter ; they have 
 filled the cup too fuU. It takes a deal to turn a 
 mother's heart against the sons she has nursed upon 
 her knees ; and many is the time I have winked and 
 wouldn't see too much, and bitten my tongue, lest 
 their father should know them as I do ; he would have 
 put them to the door that moment. But now they 
 have filled the cup too full. And where got ye all 
 this money ? You never wrought for it. I wish
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 197 
 
 I may never hear from other mouths how ye got 
 it. Sloth and greed are ill-mated, my masters. 
 Lovers of money must sweat or steal. Well, if you 
 robbed a traveller of it, it was some woman, I'll go 
 bail ; for a man would drive you with his naked 
 hand. No matter ; it is good for one thing. It has 
 shown me how you will guide our gear if ever it comes 
 to be yourn, I have watched you, my lads, this while. 
 You have spent a groat a day between you. And 
 I spend scarce a groat a week, and keep you all, 
 good and bad. No ! give up waiting for the shoes 
 that will maybe walk behind your coffin ; for this 
 shop and this house shall never be yourn. Gerard 
 is our heir : poor Gerard whom you have banished 
 and done your best to kill ; never call me mother 
 again ! But you have made him tenfold dearer to 
 me. My poor lost boy ! I shall soon see him again ; 
 shall hold him in my arms, and set him on my knees. 
 Oh, you may stare ! You are too clever, and yet 
 not clever enough. You cut the stalk away ; but 
 you left the seed — the seed that shall outgrow you, 
 and outlive you. Margaret Brandt is quick, and it 
 is Gerard's, and what is Gerard's is mine ; and I have 
 prayed the saints it may be a boy : and it will — it 
 must. Oh, Kate, when I found it was so, my bowels 
 yearned over her child unborn as if it had been 
 my own. He is our heir. He will outlive us. You 
 will not. For a bad heart in a carcass is like the worm 
 in a nut, — soon brings the body to dust. So, Kate, 
 take down Gerard's bib and tucker that are in the 
 drawer you wot of, and to-morrow we will carry them 
 to Sevenbergen. We will borrow Peter Buyskens's 
 cart and go comfort Gerard's wife under her burden. 
 She is his wife. Who is Ghysbrecht Van Swieten ? 
 Can he come between a couple and the altar, and 
 sunder those that God and the priest make one.
 
 198 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 She is my daughter, and I am as proud of her as I am 
 of you, Kate ; and as for you, keep out of my way 
 awhile : for you are like the black dog in my eyes.' 
 
 Cornelis and Sybrandt took the hint and slunk out, 
 aching with remorse, and impenitence, and hate. 
 
 They kept out of her sight for days, and she never 
 spoke to them again about their conduct. Liberaverat 
 animam suam. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 Ghysbeecht Van Swieten heard no more of the 
 black sheep for two days ; then they came and 
 produced the letter they had taken from Hans 
 Memling before he leathered them : and claimed 
 their reward. The drawer was opened, and in went 
 their hands. Sybrandt had slily glued his without 
 telling Cornelis ; for black sheep are not always loyal 
 to one another. So some small coins stuck to the 
 back of his hand, and he got more for his soul than 
 his brother did. When they were gone Ghysbrecht 
 opened the letter, and found, to his surprise, it was 
 written by Margaret Brandt. In it the poor girl 
 revealed her situation to her lover, and besought 
 him tenderly to return and save her honour. Her 
 love and her sorrow had found words so simple and 
 touching that Ghysbrecht felt a deeper pang of 
 remorse than ever, and cursed the hour he had fallen 
 into the views of Cornelis and Sybrandt. But it 
 was too late. 
 
 Hans was far away with the fatal letter to tell 
 Gerard Margaret was dead. 
 
 While Ghysbrecht was in this state, he received 
 a summons to answer a charge made against him 
 by the bishop of the diocese, for entering a church
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 199 
 
 profanely, and interrupting the sacrament of marriage 
 by force and arms, without due authority. 
 
 The Cure of Sevenbergen was a mild man and 
 had submitted to that insult ; but he related it 
 months afterwards to others of the clergy, and they 
 took it up instantly with ardour and an esprit du 
 corps that boded ill for the lay defendant. Soon the 
 lawyers had their word, and after much discussion 
 they settled it thus : that on a special and written 
 authority from the father of the bride or bridegroom 
 the magistrate might stop a marriage even at the 
 altar, provided he did it decently, and sine strepitu, 
 and in a certain form, viz. by a writ first delivered 
 to the officiating priest ; but that, on a general 
 authority, he could do no act of such weight, this 
 being an interference with the clergy in their proper 
 function, and in domicilio sancto. On the above 
 particulars a month was given Ghysbrecht to furnish 
 evidence. But this decision was in reality fatal to 
 him. He had no written authority from Gerard 
 senior. He had not done his act in the form by 
 law prescribed, and by no means sine strepitu. 
 Weighing this, and knowing from Martin Witten- 
 haagen that the Duke was prejudiced against him, 
 he was deeply dejected. In which state a still 
 heavier blow fell on him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 Gerard, who had all his parents' economy, intended 
 to make his pen defray the expenses of his journey. 
 But when he got into Germany he found the art of 
 printing universal, and so beautifully executed that 
 he could not go beyond it. Besides, 
 
 Imprimit una dies quantum non scribitur anno.
 
 200 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 He had the modesty and the sense to see that the 
 best man can't buffet good machinery. He pushed 
 on to Italy, afraid printing would get there before 
 him. The Burgomaster's money enabled him to 
 travel more quickly than most pedestrians, but when 
 he got to Florence his funds had sadly dwindled. 
 He found no printing to speak of at Florence, and 
 a great demand for scribes. 
 
 But, alas ! the run was mainly upon Greek MSS., 
 and Gerard, though he knew the Greek character, 
 had no skUl to write it. But he set to work with 
 a will and practised it. When he had at last mastered 
 it, he thought he would prepare a specimen of his 
 powers, surrounded with a border of fruit and leaves. 
 Should he buy a fair piece of vellum to lay it on ? 
 No ; he was Catherine's son : why buy what he had 
 by him ? that old deed was on fair vellum : it was 
 dirty : but then he had a receipt for cleaning vellum. 
 He laid the deed on the table, and took his knife to 
 cut it in half, intending to glue the written faces of 
 the two halves together, and so make a glorious 
 solid sheet. 
 
 Now, as he bent over it, a word or two excited his 
 curiosity. ' Gently,' said he, ' let me not destroy it 
 till I know what it is — it belongs to her.'' 
 
 Accordingly he read it, and, as he read it, his cheeks 
 got hot, and his heart began to beat. When he had 
 read it, he studied it, and, the more he studied it, 
 the more sure he was that there was something much 
 better to be done with it than copy Plutarch on it. 
 
 He sat reading and pondering it, and so absorbed 
 that he missed the sight of a face from Holland. 
 Hans Memling passed his little window twice, but 
 Gerard never saw him. 
 
 At peep of day Gerard left Florence.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 201 
 
 Friend and foe had shot at him with love and 
 with hate, and each missed him ahke. Neither 
 Margaret's imploring cry to him to return reached 
 him, nor did the false report of her death reach him, 
 though it grazed so terribly near him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 Margaret stole away to Sevenbergen at peep of 
 day. There she found the soldier had left her a long 
 letter from Gerard. The thousand tender words of 
 love filled her with joy. But the letter was dated 
 from Florence. The distance filled her with dismay. 
 
 ' Oh, Gerard ! ' she cried, ' why are you so far 
 from me ? What will become of me if you get not 
 my letter ? I shall die disgraced, for live ashamed 
 I caimot.' 
 
 Soon after breakfast Catherine came, true to her 
 promise, and was so warm, so cheerful, and motherly, 
 that she revived the drooping flower. Little Kate 
 was unable to come. She was in more pain than 
 usual. From this time the visits of Catherine were 
 frequent. Margaret's despondent state caused her 
 considerable anxiety. She never would come to 
 Tergou, and indeed would not leave the house. 
 
 ' I held my head too high,' she said, ' and now 
 I can look no one in the face. The Dame Van Eyck 
 tries to forgive me, but she cannot. How can she ? 
 None can save me but one, and he comes not. Well- 
 a-day ! ' 
 
 ' I tell you,' said Catherine, ' you are his wife, 
 and my daughter ; and don't ye go fretting now, 
 for the sake of the precious burden you are trusted 
 with.' 
 
 But when it transpired publicly that the clergy
 
 202 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 were proceeding against Ghysbrecht, Catherine came 
 to Sevenbergen, buoyant with the news ; and as she 
 told it with a fair share of exaggeration, it brought 
 life into Margaret's pale face, for a moment or two. 
 
 One day, as Peter was reading and Margaret leaning 
 her weary head on her new mother's bosom, and 
 kissing her hand ; and the kind Catherine leaning 
 her head down with assumed cheerfulness, but secret 
 anxiety, over this her pining daughter, so dear to 
 her now ; there stood in the doorway the figure of 
 a man in rags, weary with travel, pale, large-eyed. 
 Peter glanced off his book, and said : — 
 
 ' Pass on, good man, we are too poor to give ! ' 
 then back to his book again. 
 
 There was a swift rush, a staff rattled on the floor, 
 and the worn man was on his knees with his arms 
 round both the women, speechless and panting with 
 
 joy- 
 
 ' Ah ! my darling ! my darling ! ' cried his mother, 
 as only a mother can cry ; and Margaret clung tight 
 to him with one long moan of love, and sobbed, and 
 laughed, and wept upon his neck. 
 
 But words have not the power to paint a joy so 
 sudden, so wild, so all overpowering. 
 
 An hour later, Gerard sat between the two, a hand 
 of each in his hand, and ever and anon kissing a cheek 
 of each alternately, as he told his story. 
 
 ' Dear Gerard, 'twas my letter brought you ? ' 
 
 ' No, Margaret. I got no letter. 'Twas this 
 brought me, this deed which shows me your father is 
 a wealthy man ; his father's goods being wrongfully 
 kept from him by Ghysbrecht Van Swieten. I only 
 found it out at Florence. Was I to go on, and leave 
 you in poverty, when I held this talisman to make 
 you rich ? '
 
 204 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 ' I am rich in your love. I ask no more. Oh, 
 mother ! can this be real ? Can any woman be so 
 happy and live ? ' 
 
 ' Why not ? What would she gain by dying ? 
 Gerard, you and I must talk about that deed : this 
 one is too simple : and now quick to Tergou.' 
 
 ' Aye : but how can I leave Margaret so soon ? ' 
 
 * Mother, he loves me still ! I'll come too, Gerard, 
 sooner than the rest should want you.' 
 
 And Margaret was half an hour making the little 
 changes in her clothes and hair, that of late had not 
 kept her five minutes. 
 
 And she came down transformed : elastic ; and 
 radiant with beauty. 
 
 ' Good lack ! ' cried Catherine. ' We shall want 
 no candle with this one in the room.' 
 
 And in Buyskens's cart went Gerard in rags to 
 Tergou, with a dear hand in each of his ; the happiest 
 he in Holland. 
 
 Arrived at Tergou, his Spartan sire fell on his neck 
 and kissed him, and no word was uttered but of love 
 and content : and little Kate's face was seraphic, 
 and her hand crept alternately into Margaret's and 
 Gerard's. 
 
 And as they talked and sometimes sighed, some- 
 times rejoiced, over all their troubles now happUy 
 ended, their glistening eyes and nimble fingers were 
 all busy making Gerard a suit of decent clothes. 
 They hadn't far to go for the cloth. 
 
 Next day, when Gerard went to ask the Cure to 
 marry him, the reverend father observed : — 
 
 ' This has been discussed, and it is matter of 
 great doubt whether you are not married. If so, 
 it were a sin to repeat the ceremony : this were to 
 throw doubt upon a sacrament.' 
 
 Gerard exclaimed and entreated, and at last it
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 205 
 
 was settled thus : No fresh banns ; the words the 
 Cur6 had uttered last not to be repeated ; the service 
 to be taken up from that point ; the marriage to 
 be registered as having taken place at the first 
 attempt, Ghysbrecht's interruption having been laic, 
 profane, illegal, null. On these terms, the Cure con- 
 sented to read the rest of the mutilated service — 
 and to take the fees. 
 
 The piece of parchment was a covenant by which 
 Ghysbrecht had advanced money, many years ago, 
 to Floris Brandt on the security of certain lands and 
 houses, Ghysbrecht to draw the rents until said sum 
 should be repaid ; but, comparing the income with 
 the debt and date of loan, it was clear it had been 
 repaid this sixteen years, yet Ghysbrecht had quietly 
 gone on holding the property without a rag of title- 
 deed ; and, trusting to the learned Peter's stupidity, 
 had set it afloat that he had bought it of Floris Brandt. 
 Thus, not only the property was Peter's, but the 
 back rents for many years. As for the title-deeds, 
 Gerard rummaged the philosopher's house without 
 much hope. ' He has cut them up for labels,' said 
 he. Unjust ! they were detected innocuously lining 
 a drawer which was full of the seeds of medicinal 
 herbs, and really arranged with considerable method — 
 the seeds. 
 
 Gerard's father was a shrewd man, and had many 
 friends in Tergou. He and his party took the matter 
 up, and threatened to indict Ghysbrecht if he did not 
 instantly refund. These pressing him hard on one 
 side, and the clergy, whom he had affronted, on the 
 other, Ghysbrecht's ruin and disgrace impended. 
 But the old fox contrived to give his foes the slip. 
 He was found dead in his bed one morning, not 
 without some suspicion of having hastened an exit 
 desirable for himself and others. His heir, a distant
 
 206 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 relative and a just man, deprecated scandal, and 
 accounted to Peter, or rather to Gerard, his son-in- 
 law and man of business, for every farthing due. 
 Gerard and Margaret then removed to Rotterdam, 
 taking with them Peter, who met with more honour in 
 the city than in the village, and had the glory of 
 curing several personages — among the rest a heathen 
 belonging to the Duke. He lived to a great age, 
 cherished tenderly by his good son and daughter. 
 He soon ceased to be aware that they were not both 
 his children by blood. 
 
 Gerard and Margaret, like many that meet in 
 youth more than their share of trouble, enjoyed 
 more happiness and tranquillity than fall to the 
 usual lot of man. 
 
 The Duke, on the report of his giant, sent flaming 
 messengers for Giles to come to court. Vain was all 
 remonstrance. The Duke's word was law. Catherine 
 made Giles ready, weeping bitterly. It was an 
 irreparable loss. She could have spared Sybrandt 
 or Cornells : she had two black sheep ; but she had 
 but one dwarf. 
 
 Giles was petted and bedizened, and invested with 
 privileges. Item : on account of his small size he 
 was permitted to speak the truth. It sounded so 
 odd at Court. It is a disagreeable thing at best ; 
 but he contrived to make it more so by bellowing it. 
 Sybrandt achieved a broken neck without help of 
 halter, I forget how. Cornells, free from all rivals, 
 and forgiven long ago by his mother, who clung to 
 him more and more now all her brood was scattered, 
 waited, and waited, and waited, for his parents' 
 decease. But his mother's shrewd word came true : 
 ere she and her mate wore out, this worthy rusted 
 away. At sixty-five he lay dying of old age in his 
 mother's arms, a hale woman of eighty -six. He had
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 207 
 
 lain unconscious a while ; but came to himself in 
 articulo mortis, and seeing her near him, told her how 
 he would transmogrify the shop and premises as soon 
 as they should be his. ' Yes, my darling,' said the 
 poor old woman, soothingly ; and in another minute 
 he was clay. And that clay was followed to the grave 
 by all the shoes he had waited for. After his death 
 the old couple were lonely. Gerard guessed as much, 
 and came for them, and made them sell their shop 
 and goods, and live under his wing as he had once 
 under theirs. His house was large, his heart was 
 larger. He set them by his chimney-corner, and he 
 and his good Margaret forced comforts on them 
 they would by force of habit have denied themselves. 
 They sat some years by Gerard's hearth, and fondled 
 little heads, and smiled at one another, and spoke of 
 early days ; and grew like one another ; and their 
 wrinkled faces had still a beauty, for they shone 
 with benignity : oh, happy end of lives well spent ! 
 All the passions gone ; all the affections left. Good 
 citizens they were, and good spouses ; they reared 
 many children in probity and piety, and never did 
 holy wedlock show holier or more lovely than in 
 this aged, happy pair, whose solace it had been for 
 threescore years and ten. 
 
 Long and long before this little Kate had left her 
 trouble behind her. There was too much angel in 
 her face for a long abode on earth. She smiled too 
 in pain : another sign. Life gave her but few joys : 
 so it was just that Death should come to her without 
 his frown : and thus he came. She was seized with 
 a sudden lassitude, and a cessation of that pain which 
 had been her companion from infancy. Her mother 
 tried to think this was a change for the better. But 
 the gossips looked at her face, and shook their heads, 
 and said, ' She is half way to the saints.' Thus pain-
 
 208 A GOOD FIGHT 
 
 less she lay two days, foretasting heaven. When she 
 was near her end, she begged for Gerard's little boy : 
 he was three years old. They brought him and set 
 him on the bed : by this time she was past speaking : 
 but she pointed to a drawer : they looked, and 
 found the two gold pieces Gerard had given her 
 years ago. Then she nodded her head towards the 
 boy, and looked anxious lest they should not under- 
 stand her. But they did : they put the tokens of 
 the father's love, so faithfully guarded, into the boy's 
 hands ; and, when she saw his little fingers close on 
 them, she smiled content ; and so, having disposed 
 of her little earthly treasures, she yielded her immortal 
 jewel to God, and passed from earth so calmly none 
 saw her go. Gerard begged to have her crutches, 
 that she had changed so well for angel's pinions. 
 And he set them in his oratory in form of a cross. 
 For he said : ' They were my darling sister's crutches, 
 but now they are the relics of a saint.' 
 
 His memory of her never waxed dim : when he 
 was quite an old man he still spoke of her with tears 
 in his eyes as of the one mortal creature he had 
 known pure from all earthly dross. 
 
 J" 
 
 Oxford : Horace Hart, Printer to the University.
 
 UC SOUTHFRM 
 
 368 426 
 
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