THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 .6PO
 
 FREE TO SERVE
 
 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 A Tale of 
 COLONIAL NEW YORK 
 
 By 
 
 E. RAYNER 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 COPELAND AND DAY 
 
 M DCCC XCVII
 
 First Edition [2,500 copies] October 1897 
 Second Edition [2,500 copies] December 1897 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1897 BY COPELAND AND DAY
 
 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 ¥ 
 
 
 K^'3-^ 
 
 CHAPTER I (^^^ 
 
 ANY one chancing to watch, on a certain night 
 of the year 1701, the movements of a girl who 
 threaded her way through a succession of narrow 
 London alleys, would have said that she was bent on mis- 
 chief There was no doubt that she was shunning no- 
 tice. Her footfall, as she emerged into a more open 
 neighbourhood, suggested the stealthy tread of a prowl- 
 ing animal, and the eyes that peered into the darkness 
 were keenly on the alert. The moon, as if with a view 
 to gratifying the girl's evident desire for concealment, 
 had sailed behind a roughly piled mountain of cloud, 
 thick enough and extensive enough to intercept her 
 rays for many minutes to come. And if that were not 
 enough, a tall warehouse cast its shadow fairly across 
 the street, and an archway held a denser darkness in its 
 narrow entrance. 
 
 Here the girl stopped and listened, then drew into the 
 friendly depths and waited. From the broader thor- 
 oughfare just beyond could be plainly heard the slow 
 tread of the watchman as he shuffled nearer, with lantern 
 and staff in hand. The ordinary sounds of the city 
 were stilled. Even the shoeblack's shrill cry of " Clean 
 your shoes ! " had ceased. The night was too far ad- 
 vanced for the most carefully habited beau to trouble 
 himself overmuch about the appearance of his high- 
 heeled shoes, though they might be brought into sudden 
 
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 contact with ankle-deep mud during their owner's uncer- 
 tain progress homeward from some exhilarating form of 
 evening entertainment. 
 
 The girl bent her head and listened — not to the 
 oncoming step, but to other sounds in the distance of 
 the city. Now and again they were borne upon the 
 night air — far-away murmurs of loudly shouted scraps 
 of songs, mingled with noisy bursts of laughter. 
 
 The footsteps of the watchman came nearer. The 
 girl glided from her shelter, and reached the open thor- 
 oughfare as the light of his lantern fell across the side 
 street. 
 
 " Father ! " 
 
 The old man — for he was very old for the task he 
 essayed — stopped suddenly. 
 
 " Is that you, Mary? " he said. " You'd be better in 
 your bed." 
 
 " Nay, but I couldn't sleep. There are some of them 
 about again." 
 
 " Aye, I know it. Young bloods like them have got 
 nothing better to do. Pity 'tis they hadn't to earn their 
 victuals by the sweat of their brows. Not a few of 'em 
 would know a taste of hunger then." 
 
 " Come in here." 
 
 She drew him into the shelter she had lately left, and 
 carefully screened the light of the lantern with her skirts. 
 
 "They're coming this way," she said. "They're 
 nearer by a mile than when I listened first." 
 
 " Maybe they are." 
 
 He spoke wearily. 
 
 " You'll not try to stop 'em in their mischief ? " 
 
 She peered into his face as she spoke, bringing her 
 own so near that she almost touched him. 
 
 " Nay, girl. No fear ! They're too plaguy strong 
 and young for me to deal with. I'll away a bit further up 
 the street, and turn me down into a spot I know well, as
 
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 good for hiding in as any other. And you, my girl, keep 
 well out of sight. If they should lay hands on you — " 
 
 He grasped more tightly the long staff he carried, and 
 for the moment the shuffling foot was set firmly down, and 
 the wandering eye looked straight out across the circle 
 of light flung by the lantern that by the last movement 
 had been left unshaded. 
 
 " Hark ! Yonder's the constable." 
 
 The girl's quick ear had caught a sound that brought 
 no message to the duller senses of the old man. He 
 stood a moment staring at her as if bewildered, then 
 snatched the lantern from her hand, and moved out into 
 the roadway with a tremendous show of zeal, swinging 
 his lantern manfully. 
 
 He felt himself between two fires. Behind him came 
 the constable, with valiant tread, and tongue eloquently 
 free in bringing home their deserts to such recreant 
 guardians of the slumbers of peaceful citizens as were 
 found neglecting their duties. Ahead of him — but still 
 in the distance — he could hear the shouts of a band of 
 young roisterers fresh from an evening's carousal. The 
 old man had not dodged such companies every night 
 for nothing. He could have told, and did tell, when he 
 was sure of his listener, what kind of sport these young 
 rakes loved best. He had no mind to protect the prop- 
 erty of citizens at the expense of a broken head, to say 
 nothing of bruises and sword-cuts by way of variety. 
 He knew his beat well, very well for his purpose, and 
 there were only two or three stretches in its whole length 
 in which a man could not find a conveniently dark hid- 
 ing-place to creep into until the hilarious young towns- 
 men were safely past. But the temper of the constable 
 was an unknown quantity. He could be jovially lenient 
 to the eccentricities of a homeward-bound pedestrian 
 whose sense of direction was for the time in abeyance, 
 always provided the traveller had not lost the power of
 
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 finding his way to the particular pocket in which his 
 money reposed. And he had been known to be con- 
 veniently blind to defection on the part of the watchmen 
 under his charge, though there were some who averred 
 that such absence of astuteness could only be reckoned 
 upon on occasions when the worthy constable scented 
 danger to his own person. That his tongue could wag 
 to some purpose under ordinary provocation every sub- 
 ordinate knew to his cost. 
 
 The sounds in the distance had become gradually 
 clearer. The old man threw a nervous glance over his 
 shoulder. His superior was still on the scene, though the 
 stretch of roadway between the two had not materially 
 diminished. 
 
 The watchman moved sullenly forward. He was un- 
 comfortably aware that he had entered upon one of 
 the sections of his beat along which convenient shelter 
 was hard to find. Suddenly he stopped, hesitated for a 
 single moment, and turned and ran at a pace which suited 
 ill the legs that, between stiffness and fear, tottered pain- 
 fully. The fact that the constable had disappeared made 
 no very clear impression upon the old man's mind, though 
 he observed the empty stretch of road, and the loneli- 
 ness of the path within the posts, those barriers that held 
 back the road-traffic lest it should infringe upon the path- 
 way set aside for pedestrians. 
 
 For some minutes the shouts and songs had ceased, 
 and there had been nothing to indicate the whereabouts 
 of the revellers. Now, close at hand, scarcely beyond 
 the point where the street turned, there arose a babel of 
 sound. The rattle of a dozen canes, lead-tipped, upon 
 a good oaken door, disturbed the slumbers of a house- 
 holder, and before he could put forth his head from his 
 window, if, indeed, he contemplated any such impru- 
 dence, his door-knocker was wrenched from its hold, and 
 carried off as a trophy.
 
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 There came a momentary lull while one of the group 
 took aim and sent a half-penny flying through a partially 
 unprotected window. Instantly a clamour ensued, as a 
 shower of half-pence came rattling upon the panes, and 
 the fun waxed furious, till, between the falling of broken 
 glass and the shouts of the company, there was clatter 
 enough to render the night hideous. 
 
 Their work done, the roisterers passed on. The street 
 was dark, for the moon had not yet cleared the cloud- 
 bank. Since Michaelmas Day was past, and moreover 
 the moon was near the full, there were two good reasons 
 for leaving the lamps unlighted. The darkness of the 
 roadway suited well the mood of the revellers, whose 
 loud laughter at the helplessness of the populace, and 
 congratulations upon their own prowess, filled up the 
 interval between each mad sally. 
 
 " Ha ! Who goes yonder? Here's ruin to the sneak- 
 ing watchman ! " 
 
 The cry reached the old man in his hastily chosen 
 retreat. He tried to draw further back, squeezing him- 
 self flat against a wall. 
 
 " Where is he? " came from half a dozen throats. 
 
 " Crouching in yonder doorway. We'll root him 
 out, and roast him after. Hi, watchman ! What of the 
 night?" 
 
 The derisive accents filled the old man with fear, and 
 gave him a sickening realization of what he might expect 
 at the hands of these young fashionables. 
 
 " Come out and face the music, coward ! Sneaking 
 won't avail you much." 
 
 The words were emphasized by the thrusting into the 
 darkness of a naked sword, drawn from the cane of 
 the speaker. The watchman deemed it wisest to come 
 forth. 
 
 " What want you, young sirs? " he asked tremulously. 
 " Go on your ways, and leave me in the discharge of my
 
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 duty, for full well you know I'm but an old man set to 
 guard the slumbers of law-abiding citizens." 
 
 " And right well you guard 'em, on my faith ! " 
 
 " That's to help remind you to stick to your post like 
 a man." 
 
 The second speaker dealt the old watchman a ringing 
 blow on the cheek with his open palm, and as he tried 
 to escape, the rest closed round him and began in turn 
 to buffet him. 
 
 The fun was going on apace, and no thought of inter- 
 ruption in this their most cherished form of amusement 
 disturbed the minds of the youths, when there burst in 
 upon them a lithe figure, that came out of the darkness 
 with an impetus which brought it into their very midst 
 before they suspected danger. 
 
 "What are ye after, ye cowards? " 
 
 A girl's ringing voice rose above the tumult. She 
 stood in their midst, her eyes ablaze with anger and scorn. 
 
 " I give you joy, gentlemen, on your courage," she 
 said, drawing herself up to her full height. " Right well 
 you value a whole skin, that you pick out the oldest 
 watchman of them all to test your valour on." 
 
 She stretched out her arm and pointed a finger at the 
 old man, trembling and helpless, then turned it towards 
 the youth whose hand was still uplifted to strike. 
 
 "He'd be a gallant worthy to fight with a cat, or, may- 
 hap, better yet, a kitten," she said derisively. " I dare 
 wager he'd run fast enough at the first touch of her 
 aws. 
 
 For a moment the men were speechless, bewildered 
 by the sudden onslaught. That the taunt was not 
 wasted on him who held the watchman's arm was shown 
 by the heightened flush on his cheek. He recovered 
 quickly from his embarrassment. 
 
 "Ho, ho! What have we here?" he cried, as he 
 snatched the lantern from the old man's nerveless fin-
 
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 gers, and held it close to the girl's face. " A beauty, by- 
 Jupiter ! " 
 
 She stood the bold gaze unflinchingly, only her eyes 
 sought those of the watchman, and her hand moved ever 
 so slightly in the direction of the road. He understood 
 the movement as a sign to him to flee, and with the 
 instinct of self-preservation almost acted upon the sug- 
 gestion. Then he shook his head decidedly, drew him- 
 self together, and advanced until his hand rested upon 
 the girl's shoulder. 
 
 " Look you here, young sirs," he said. " You've 
 naught to say to her. Let her go about her business^ 
 and settle the rest with me." 
 
 " Oh, we'll settle with you fast enough ! No fear of 
 that," laughed the man who held the lantern, and by way 
 of illustrating his words he struck the old man a heavy 
 blow with his clenched fist. 
 
 " Stop that, drunken brute that you are, or it'll be 
 the worse for you ! " 
 
 The girl's hand was raised as she spoke, and as it 
 descended, five red streaks upon the face of the gallant 
 bore witness to the sharpness of her finger-nails. 
 
 " Vixen ! Tigress ! You shall pay for this." 
 
 They closed about the two — the old man and the girl. 
 The watchman forgot his fear and fought desperately, 
 but as the company surged and swayed and pressed for- 
 ward he was thrown to the ground, and, in the greater 
 interest of wreaking their vengeance on the girl, the 
 youths trampled him under foot, and left him bleeding 
 and senseless where he had fallen, being intent only on 
 tormenting their new victim. Right boldly she met their 
 onslaught, but they were too many for her. She did not 
 flinch at the thrusts of their sword-points, and it is pos- 
 sible it was her savage daring that won for her better 
 treatment than others of her sex had received at their 
 hands.
 
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 " Give the hussy a ride downhill. That's the kind of 
 carriage for beauties of her stamp," suggested one of her 
 tormentors. 
 
 " A hugely good suggestion, and one worth carry- 
 ing out. She can scratch and claw as she's a mind to 
 then." 
 
 " And here's the wherewithal to accomplish the busi- 
 ness," announced another. 
 
 The speaker dashed across the road to where an empty 
 barrel stood beneath the eaves of a house. Just below 
 where they were the street dipped sharply down. It was 
 a long, steep slope, well calculated to afford facilities for 
 the carrying-out of their design. This would not be the 
 first time that a woman had been inclosed in a barrel and 
 rolled down the hill by such young miscreants as these. 
 The girl stood, with gleaming eyes and baffled hatred, 
 glaring at her captors, who had dragged her arms behind 
 her, and were holding them with no merciful grip. 
 
 " The very thing, and in the nick of time. A bless- 
 ing on your eyes for their sharpness ! " cried he whom 
 the girl had singled out for attack, and who was man- 
 ifestly the leader of the party. " In with the wench. 
 We'll give her a taste of a new pleasure." 
 
 " By the Lord Harry, that you shall not ! " 
 
 The speaker, a young man a trifle more sober than his 
 companions, drew his sword as he spoke. 
 
 "What words are these? Who says 'shall not' to 
 me?" hotly demanded the knight of the five wounds. 
 
 " I do ! " replied the other emphatically. 
 
 " And what have you to say to it? " 
 
 " This ! " and his sword was thrust beneath the nose 
 of the other. 
 
 "What mean you by that, a hanger-on like you? 
 Better pay your debts, and leave my affairs alone." 
 
 " What is that you say? " 
 
 " ' Pay your debts,' that's what I say ; and, by all that's
 
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 holy, they sJiall be paid before yonder moon chmbs high 
 again, or you take the consequences ! " 
 
 At that moment the moon outrode the clouds, and 
 flooded the thoroughfare with light. It showed the 
 blank dismay, the angry consternation, of the youth 
 who still held his sword menacingly. 
 
 " You taunt me with what I owe you ? " he questioned. 
 
 " I'll do more than that. I'll teach a beggar like you 
 to beware how he interferes with a gentleman." 
 
 "You will? Take that!" 
 
 He dealt the other a blow in the face. 
 
 For the next few minutes there was a bewildering, 
 mixed scuffle, in which swords and fists and sticks played 
 about an equal part. Before it was ended the girl had 
 disappeared, and the old watchman had been completely 
 forgotten. Not one of the party saw the young fury 
 bend over the blood-bedabbled face, and peer into it for 
 signs of life. And nobody knew that she stooped and 
 lifted the old man in her arms, half carrying, half drag- 
 ging him into the shelter of a side alley. They were all 
 too busy fighting and cursing one another. It is to be 
 supposed that they came out of the fray equally well, — 
 or ill, — for presently the group opened, and two of the 
 combatants were led off by their friends, bleeding pro- 
 fusely. As for the watchman, whether he was dead or 
 alive was a matter of small moment. Watchmen in that 
 day were plentiful, and the flickering-out of one such 
 life was of no moment to any except the girl who had 
 thought the life worth fighting for.
 
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 CHAPTER II 
 
 "~i ^ OR goodness' sak-e, sir, wake up ! They're like as 
 
 r^ not comin' upstairs this blessed minute." 
 A The speaker, a red-headed, thick-limbed girl, — 
 
 or child, for she looked little more, — spoke in a loud, 
 excited whisper, putting her mouth almost to the ear of 
 the sleeper. 
 
 " Wake up, I say ! You ain't got a mite o' time to lose. 
 The bailiff do be here." 
 
 As if there were some potency in the last words, the 
 young man stirred uneasily, the movement disclosing a 
 bandaged arm, and blood-stains on the rumpled linen. 
 
 " Mercy on us, ye do sleep dreadful heavy ! Rouse 
 up, can't ye? The bailiff's after ye, for sure." 
 
 In her eagerness she laid her hand on his shoulder. 
 The sleeper opened his eyes for a moment, groaned, and 
 became conscious that there was another world than that 
 of dreams. He fixed his bewildered gaze on the squat 
 figure of the girl. Then his senses slowly returned. 
 
 "What is it, Molly? Time to get up? " 
 
 " Mercy on us, sir, I wish it warn't no more'n that ! 
 You ain't heard a blessed word. There's the bailiff 
 a-wantin' ye, and you sleepin' as innocent as a babe." 
 
 "The bailiff! " 
 
 " Aye, sir, the bailiff. And if ye don't want to go 
 with him, ye've got to look sharp." 
 
 " Are you sure he wants me? Perchance some of the 
 other lodgers — " 
 
 " He's after you, as sure as death, sir. He was tellin' 
 it all to missis when I come upstairs. They didn't know 
 I listened, nor yet that I'd run up to warn ye." 
 
 The young man stared at her blankly. His mind was
 
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 occupied with putting together certain circumstances 
 that bore to one another the relation of cause and efifect. 
 
 " Then he's been as good as his word, and it's all up 
 with me," he said. 
 
 "No, it ain't. Not a bit of it," responded Molly. 
 " Why, there's them that has dodged the bailiff for 
 months, and never got took. You've got to dodge him, 
 that's all." 
 
 " You don't understand, girl. It's not this one debt, 
 it's what's behind. I'm in the clutches of a serpent that 
 will squeeze the life-blood out of me." 
 
 He spoke tragically. In truth, he felt tragical. But 
 tragedy was wasted on Molly. 
 
 " Hoot, sir ! I think ye should know more than to give 
 in like a baby," she said. " I'd never have thought ye'd 
 take it this way. A young gentleman like you should 
 have wit enough to get out of a scrape, as well as get 
 in one. He ain't got ye yet. Time enough to say 
 it's all up with ye when he's got his long, hungry fingers 
 on ye." 
 
 Molly's face showed a mixture of indignation, anxiety, 
 and kindly disapprobation, that, with the background 
 of dirt that was never lacking, gave to the small maid a 
 particularly ludicrous appearance. The comicalness of 
 the situation was, however, entirely wasted upon the 
 young man, who was too anxious about his own safety 
 to give a thought to this servant lass who was putting 
 herself to no small risk in his behalf. 
 
 " And how long will it be before his clutch is on me, 
 girl?" he asked. "Such knaves know better than to 
 let their prey escape. I shall feel the strength of his 
 grip before I am well down the stairs." 
 
 "To be sure, sir," said Molly. " But you ain't goin' 
 down the stairs, not till he's clear o' the place. You do 
 jest as I tell ye, and that there bailiff may whistle for 
 ye till he's tired. But you'd better hurry, sir, for if he
 
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 should come up here now, you'd be in a sad takin', and 
 me too." 
 
 " Small chance of being in anything else, now he's after 
 me. In all probability he's even now half-way up the 
 stair," said the young man. 
 
 " Maybe, sir, and maybe not. Anyhow, there's a good 
 strong door betwixt him and you, and the bolt's well 
 drawn. For the rest, I'll listen." 
 
 Molly tiptoed to the end of the passage, and applied 
 her ear to the crack of the door she had been discreet 
 enough to bolt upon coming upstairs. She had suc- 
 ceeded in transferring a fair share of her anxiety to the 
 young man, who was at that moment precipitately array- 
 ing himself in garments that would have been donned 
 more quickly had it not been for the stiffness of his 
 bandaged arm. The bewilderment of his sudden awak- 
 ening had hardly yet worn off. Possibly the effect of a 
 night's festivity had something to do with the throbbing 
 head which refused to weigh calmly this unpleasantly 
 critical situation. The only thing the youth fairly real- 
 ized was that a debtor's prison stared him in the face, 
 and that, once inside its walls, his residence there would 
 not be of short duration. Through his bewildered brain 
 darted words heard in the heat of conflict, sometime 
 in the small hours of the night that was past : 
 
 " ' Pay your debts,' that's what I say ; and, by all that's 
 holy, \hey shall be paid, or you take the consequences ! " 
 
 These were the consequences 
 
 His hands shook as he stooped to fasten on the high- 
 heeled, buckled shoes. He had grown as nervously 
 eager as was Molly herself. When that maiden returned 
 she found him struggling to introduce his injured arm 
 into the armhole of his long waistcoat. 
 
 " Here, you let me help ye with that, sir," she said. 
 " They're talkin' downstairs as easy as can be. He's 
 went out and got some beer, and they're drinkin' of it
 
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 comfortable. I heard missis tellin' of him you was sure 
 to be dead asleep, 'cause you come in late, and had been 
 spreein'." 
 
 " How do you propose to keep me out of that fel- 
 low's way? " asked the young man, when his toilet neared 
 completion. 
 
 " Well, sir, 'tain't much of a place, to be sure, but it's 
 mighty safe. There's a bit of a closet a-top o' the garret 
 stairs. I sleep there, what time I get to sleep, which 
 ain't much. It's three parts full o' rubbish. You could 
 crawl in among that, and lay close, and he'd never find 
 ye as long as he lived. I'll let ye know when he's gone." 
 
 "All right; go ahead. I'm ready," was the answer. 
 
 " This way, sir. My gracious ! They're comin', sure 
 enough ! " 
 
 The girl darted out of the door, turned up a narrow 
 passage, and stopped at the foot of a boxed-in stair- 
 case. 
 
 " This way, sir. Quick ! " 
 
 The young man followed headlong. At the top of 
 the stairs the girl stopped, pushed open a door, and 
 further, pushed her charge inside, shutting him in before 
 he could see where he was, and rushing down again. 
 She was not a moment too soon. The bolt she had 
 drawn was hardly pushed back before the door flew 
 open, and she was confronted by her mistress. She had 
 not to wait long for a greeting. 
 
 " What are you doin' here, you lazy young slut? Get 
 about yer work, or I'll take some of the laziness out of 
 ye in a way that I'll wager'll not be to yer taste." 
 
 " I am a-workin'. I don't never do nothin' else but 
 work," retorted Molly sullenly, taking the precaution 
 to move quickly out of reach of the woman's arm. 
 
 " You're an idle good-for-nothing, not worth the food 
 you eat." 
 
 But Molly was already at the head of the stairs, down
 
 14 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 which her footsteps were heard retreating. Any one 
 who had Hstened might have counted just as many dull 
 thuds as there were steps to descend, but any one who 
 had watched would have seen that for every thud there 
 was not a corresponding descent. When fairly out of 
 sight in the curve of the staircase, the girl stopped, and 
 while her feet rose and fell, her sharp ears were busy 
 noting the movements of the bailiff and his escort. She 
 heard her mistress expatiating loudly on the trials of a 
 landlady's lot. 
 
 " It's the life of a galley slave, and nothin' to show for 
 it," said that lady, " Now there's this young — " 
 
 " By all that's holy, the bird's flown ! " 
 
 The bailiff had entered the room while the good 
 woman was yet engrossed by her own eloquence. 
 
 "Gone? Not he ! You must be pretty well foxed 
 if you can't see him a-layin' in his bed. He come in 
 that late it was near mornin', and he never — Mercy on 
 us ! He ain't there ! " 
 
 She had pushed past the bailiff, and stood looking at 
 the empty bed. The bailiff stared at the landlady, and 
 the landlady stared at the bailiff. 
 
 "That's a pretty go ! " 
 
 "When did he get out? That's what I want to 
 know," said the landlady. 
 
 The bailiff went slowly round the room, and exam- 
 ined all possible hiding-places. 
 
 " Wherever he is now, this don't happen to be the 
 place," he remarked oracularly. 
 
 Suddenly the landlady strode through the door. 
 
 "Mol-ly!" 
 
 That damsel began to beat a noiseless retreat kitch- 
 enward. 
 
 "Moll! " 
 
 Still Molly was discreetly silent. 
 
 " Drat the girl ! Mo-ol-ly ! "
 
 FREE TO SERVE 15 
 
 From the depths of the kitchen proceeded a muffled 
 " Yes, mum." 
 
 "Are you deaf, I should like to know? Come up 
 here." 
 
 Molly slowly tramped up the stairs. 
 
 " Where's Mr. Nevard? He ain't in his bed." 
 
 " No, mum, an' he ain't been there these hours. He 
 was up afore six this mornin', lookin' more like a spook 
 than the young gentleman he is." 
 
 "Young gentleman, forsooth ! Young beggar, more 
 like. Why didn't you tell me he was gone? Where's 
 my money comin' from, I should like to know, and him 
 owin' me six weeks if he owes a day? " 
 
 Having no information to impart on this score, Molly 
 was silent. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me? Answer me that." 
 
 The woman clutched the girl by the shoulder as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " 'Cause I didn't know as ye wanted to be told. They 
 all comes and goes as they likes. 'Tain't my place to 
 stop 'em." 
 
 "When did you say this young spark went?" asked 
 the bailiff. 
 
 " Six o'clock this mornin'. Td jest undone the door 
 to clean the steps. There was a gentleman come for 
 him in a hackney coach, and he run upstairs and woke 
 him up, and they went off together." 
 
 " And you hadn't no more sense than to let him go 
 that way? " said the landlady. "Just like a good-for- 
 nothing piece like you." 
 
 Molly stolidly surveyed her grimy red fingers. 
 
 The landlady and the bailiff made a second inspection 
 of the lodger's room, and having satisfied themselves that 
 he was not hidden in any crevice or corner of the same, 
 proceeded to retrace their steps, the emissary of the law 
 suggesting that another pot of beer might do something
 
 1 6 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 towards rendering the situation less irksome during the 
 hours of waiting. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the depths of Molly's closet, the object 
 of their solicitude crouched among the rubbish, to the 
 serious damage of his light silk stockings. He had time 
 now to collect his scattered senses, and look the situation 
 in the face. He was well aware that the sum the bailiff 
 had come to collect was not in itself particularly large, 
 but if what he suspected was true, the hand that had 
 closed about him in this case was only holding him for 
 a season, to gain time for a tighter grip. The pursuit 
 of revenge, once begun, is apt to prove an engrossing 
 pastime, and the young debtor was uncomfortably cer- 
 tain that he knew his man, and had little mercy to expect 
 from him. 
 
 " I was a fool, a stupid fool, to meddle with his 
 pleasures," he muttered. " The girl was nothing to 
 me, yet it was a crying shame to treat so scurvily as 
 handsome a wench as yon." 
 
 Then he fell to musing over his probable fate, and 
 between present discomfort and visions of prospective 
 incarceration, the time passed but slowly. Fears of 
 being discovered in his undignified position, and igno- 
 miniously exposed, added to his impatience, and he had 
 almost made up his mind to tempt fate by endeavouring 
 to escape, when he heard a stealthy step upon the stair. 
 
 "Are you all right, sir?" asked Molly, opening the 
 door far enough to insert her head. 
 
 "Right?" retorted the young man. "There's pre- 
 cious little chance of anything right in this business. 
 Might as well end it first as last, without any of this 
 foolery. It'll come to the same thing in any case." 
 
 " Very well, sir," said Molly bluntly. " Jest as it 
 pleases ye. Maybe ye've money enough to pay this 
 cove that's waitin' for ye downstairs, and it don't make 
 no difference to you how soon he finds ye."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 17 
 
 " If I had, you may wager I'd not be long in this posi- 
 tion," replied the young man bitterly. 
 
 " Then, sir," said Molly earnestly, " don't you be 
 thinkin' of puttin' yerself nowhere near that bailiff. 
 Don't I know jest what it means? There's my uncle got 
 took twenty-three years ago come June, long afore I was 
 born, and ain't out yet, nor like to be. And what did he 
 owe at the beginnin'? A paltry five shillin's, and no 
 more, but it's more pounds to-day than he'll ever see in 
 all his born days. There's only one way out for him, 
 and that's through a precious narrow gate. Don't you 
 be a fool, sir. Keep out o' that feller's way, if ye hev 
 to stop here till the middle o' the night." 
 
 "Where's the fellow sitting?" asked the young man 
 sharply. 
 
 " In the front room, where he can keep an eye on the 
 entry and the street. You couldn't — " 
 
 " Couldn't what?" 
 
 " Look here, sir," said Molly, dropping her voice to a 
 low whisper, " if you'd a mind to crawl through the coal- 
 hole, you could get out at the back side o' the yard. 
 The missis is in the kitchen, and neither she nor him 
 couldn't spy ye there. You've got to turn sharp at the 
 foot o' the stairs, and pop right into the coal-hole. He 
 can't see ye if ye don't go a step further'nthe last stair." 
 
 " Then the coal-hole let it be," said the young man, 
 and as a result of the decision, a youth, liberally smirched 
 with coal-dust, with a wig very much awry, and unmis- 
 takable marks of disorder about his whole person, 
 emerged from the privacy of a back yard, and was glad 
 to hide himself in a sedan-chair, and be borne away from 
 present danger by two lusty porters.
 
 1 8 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 •' ^'"^ H ! It's you, Fulke, is it? What, in the name 
 ■ # of ^11 that's ridiculous, brings you here at this 
 
 ^^-^ hour of the day? And, pray, have you been 
 fighting with a coal-barge? " 
 
 It was not altogether an inappropriate greeting for a 
 young man whose last experience had been that of 
 crawling through a coal-cellar. 
 
 Fulke Nevard tried to look unconcerned, and failed 
 dismally. The day had already seemed wretchedly long 
 to him, but he was aware, when he paid the chairmen, 
 and ran upstairs to his friend's room, that it was still 
 unfashionably early for a man of pretension to be abroad. 
 The young beau he had come to see was )'et in his bed, 
 daintily sipping chocolate, and looking over a letter or 
 two which had arrived by way of that convenient insti- 
 tution established in the behalf of dwellers in the metropo- 
 lis — the London penny post. 
 
 " Any news? " asked the young man languidly. 
 
 " News enough for me, more's the pity," was the 
 answer. "Wyville's been as good as his word." 
 
 "About — Oh, I understand! Had he taken any 
 legal steps against you ? " 
 
 " No ; but Matthews, the peruke-maker, had, and Wy- 
 ville was to lend me thirty pounds to pay him with. 
 Now, of course, he has given the rascally fellow a hint to 
 come down on me, and the consequence is, I'm wanted." 
 
 '' Ah ! Uncomfortable for you. Can't you raise it? " 
 
 " Not in the world. I've borrowed of everybody that 
 would lend me so much as a pound. Wyville's been 
 advancing for me this year or more, curse him. Better 
 have let it come sooner, when I was not so deep in."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 19 
 
 "You owe Wyville a good round sum?" questioned 
 the other, leisurely beginning that most important busi- 
 ness of the day — the making of his toilet. 
 
 " Goodness knows what I owe him ; I don't." 
 
 Fulke Nevard turned to stare gloomily out of the win- 
 dow, while his companion proceeded to draw carefully 
 over his knee a long rolling silk stocking of softest blue, 
 graced with clock of silver. He critically surveyed the 
 shapely leg, and the effect of the stocking upon it, before 
 he spoke again. 
 
 " Pity you hadn't kept that little debt in your mind 
 before you stopped Wyville's game last night," he re- 
 marked, smoothing out a wrinkle, and holding up the 
 stocking's mate. 
 
 Fulke tapped impatiently upon the window-pane. 
 
 " Of course I was a fool," he said testily. 
 
 " Y-es," drawled his friend, in a moment of abstraction 
 caused by the effort to make the second stocking roll 
 equally well with the first. 
 
 " Vastly prompt of Wyville to put Matthews on you 
 so soon," he remarked, after a long silence. " I'll wager 
 he'll not stop at this." 
 
 " He'll not stop at anything short of the 'worst he can 
 do," responded Fulke savagely. 
 
 " The wench wasn't worth the risk," commented the 
 other, giving the subject the fag end of his attention. 
 The major part was engrossed by the effort to arrange 
 in becoming creases the fine lawn sleeves that puffed 
 out below his large coat-cuffs. He stopped a moment 
 to survey the droop of the lace frill over his hand. Fulke 
 watched his movements impatiently. 
 
 " Wyville's a brute ! " he broke out with at last. 
 
 " He's a rich brute, then, and a savage brute, when he's 
 roused. What are you going to do?" 
 
 " Rot in prison, I suppose." 
 
 " Not a prodigiously pleasant prospect. Confound
 
 20 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 this cravat ! My fingers are slow to get the go of the 
 latest turn. Does it hang passably, think you? " 
 
 Fulke cast a scornful glance at the bit of point lace 
 the other was attempting to adjust after the most ap- 
 proved style. Just now lace-edged cravats were little to 
 his taste. 
 
 " It is surely becoming ravelled at the ends, after the 
 pretty penny it cost me," lamented the beau. " And 
 the only other I possess is in a worse way. You will at 
 least have no care about your apparel, Fulke, when you 
 are secluded from the world." 
 
 " You might show a little friendliness, and help me 
 out," said Fulke savagely. 
 
 " With all my heart. But what can I do? " 
 
 " Go and talk things over with Wyville. Find out 
 whether he really means mischief. But for heaven's 
 sake don't give him a hint I'm here. If you do, it's all 
 up with me." 
 
 " I'll be silent as the grave. But split me if I 
 think it'll be a bit of use. Wyville's a very brute to 
 hang on when he takes a notion. Still, I'll hasten to see 
 him, and if anything can be done for you, you may rest 
 assured the case could not be in better hands." 
 
 The speaker dallied long with the sleeve knot he was 
 tying, stopped to assure himself that his sword hung low 
 upon his thigh, and gave a last admiring glance at the 
 gay shoulder knot, before he tucked his cocked hat 
 under his arm, and waved a studied adieu with the hand 
 that held his lace-fringed gloves. 
 
 Left to his own devices, Fulke Nevard betook himself 
 to the depressing occupation of seeking a way through 
 his difficulties. The young man whom — in a fit of gen- 
 erosity towards a stranger — he had antagonized the 
 night before, was the leader of the set Fulke most 
 affected, occupying that position partly by reason of the 
 wealth which gave him an advantage over his more needy
 
 FREE TO SERVE 21 
 
 associates, and partly by an arrogant boldness of char- 
 acter, which made him foremost in every reckless deed. 
 To this young man Fulke Nevard stood indebted, how 
 deeply he hardly dared to reckon. VVyville was no 
 niggard, and his advances to his friend had helped the 
 latter out of more than one uncomfortable position. 
 
 Of his own legitimate resources the young man found 
 it a very short matter to take account. He simply had 
 no income but that derived from his practice as assist- 
 ant to a semi-fashionable doctor, and, with his style of 
 living, it fell far short of meeting expenses. Diamond 
 buckles, and flowing periwigs, to say nothing of cravats 
 edged with point lace a quarter of a yard in width, were 
 items of expenditure that called for a liberal income. 
 And the income of Fulke Nevard was not likely to be 
 liberal for many years to come. 
 
 Under these circumstances he could ill afford to quar- 
 rel with Wyville, and as he looked at his own bandaged 
 wrist, he thought ruefully of the savage sword-thrust he 
 had given that youth, and felt convinced he would have 
 his revenge for every pang it cost him. He was in no 
 wise reassured by the return, some hours later, of the 
 friend he had dispatched to sound the depths of Wy- 
 ville's wrath, 
 
 " On my faith, I'm sorry for you," were the words 
 with which he was greeted, while the speaker crossed 
 the floor with affected slowness, and dropped in a grace- 
 ful attitude upon a chair. " For myself, I'm undone. 
 This beastly rain has played the mischief with my per- 
 uke, and as for these shoes — look at them ! " 
 
 He held the spattered footgear forward. 
 
 Fulke glanced towards the window. Absorbed in his 
 own thoughts, he had not noticed the thickening of the 
 clouds, and the sorry condition of his host's apparel was 
 to him the first intimation of the shower. Now, brought 
 back suddenly to a sense of existing conditions, he sur-
 
 22 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 veyed without a trace of mirth the light silk stockings, 
 liberally splashed with London mud, that mixture of 
 abominable ingredients the true nature of which it was 
 best not to dwell upon. From thence his eye travelled 
 upwards to the peruke, that, in a state of lank collapse, 
 gave little sign of the glory of tightly curling flaxen 
 locks that had bedecked their owner's shoulders a short 
 time before. The heavy spring shower had reduced 
 the hair to its original straightness, and the wearer to a 
 state of desperation. 
 
 "It's hugely annoying to be served this way," he 
 grumbled ; " and not a hackney coach nor a chair to be 
 had for love or money." 
 
 He did not find it necessary to add that of the latter 
 he had not much to offer. 
 
 " I was near enough to home to be in a fair way to 
 beat the rain," he continued. " But the storm came on 
 apace, and now I'm all spent, and no end of mischief 
 done." 
 
 " And Wyville? Did you see him? " asked Fulke. 
 
 " I saw him, surely," said the other, ruefully surveying 
 the damage to the wig he had removed from his head, 
 " and I spent much time in friendly converse with him. 
 As a result of my observations I may tell you that 
 Wyville of Wyville is no soft enemy." 
 
 Fulke made an impatient gesture. 
 
 " He says he'll see you rot in prison, and, so far from 
 helping you out, he'll run up every expense those rascals 
 of the law can invent, to make your case the worse. He 
 calls you an ungrateful beggar, and curses every one who 
 has a word to say to you. I warn you, in a friendly way, 
 that you may expect a little coolness from your acquaint- 
 ances in consequence. Wyville's enmity is not a thing 
 to be lightly incurred, even for a friend." 
 
 " Pity you came out on the wrong side," said Fulke 
 bitterly.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 23 
 
 " Oh, as to that, I was in no danger," replied the other, 
 with cool effrontery. *' I could ill afford to make a foe 
 when a little well-timed abuse of a fool would earn me a 
 friend. I could but call you all the villains I could twist 
 my tongue to, and, by all that's holy, if you're not a 
 scoundrel you're a fool, to cut up as mad a caper as that 
 of last night. So it made no great odds to give you your 
 due out of one measure instead of the other," 
 
 Fulke winced at the unpleasant candour, but he could 
 not afford to be offended. 
 
 "Will he carry out his threat, do you think?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Will he? Will the tiger spring on his prey? I tell 
 you Wyville's dead in earnest." 
 
 " Then it's all up with me," said Fulke desperately, 
 
 " Something very like it, unless you can raise the full 
 amount you owe him. Wish I could help you, but, on 
 my faith, I'm in near as bad a taking myself," 
 
 He was interrupted by a heavy rap at the door, and 
 Fulke, with a hurried warning to his friend on no account 
 to betray his presence, retreated into a small inner 
 room, and listened breathlessly. He was so certain the 
 intruder was a bailiff, and the moment of his capture at 
 hand, that the first words were not enough to reassure 
 him. 
 
 " The maid below asserted that a doctor was to be 
 found here, and in truth I stand in need of one," said the 
 stranger. 
 
 "For what purpose?" Fulke heard his host in- 
 quire. 
 
 " That he may bind up my head, knocked to pieces 
 in a row with a rascally porter." 
 
 The speaker came forward into the light, and removed 
 his finger from the edges of a broad, gaping wound upon 
 his forehead. 
 
 " Fulke, here's work for you, and maybe the chance
 
 24 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 of making money by it," called the young man. " No 
 mischief lurking here. It's an honest wound," he added, 
 as he led the stranger to the door of the inner room. 
 
 They stood for a moment surveying each other. The 
 stranger spoke first. 
 
 " You are a doctor, sir? " 
 
 " Men call me so," was the answer. 
 
 "Then I'll place my battered head in your hands, 
 though, by the look of things, I should say your need 
 was equal to my own," he said, looking significantly at 
 the young doctor's bandaged arm. 
 
 Fulke paid no heed to the insinuation, but with fingers 
 remarkably deft, when his own disabled condition was 
 taken into account, proceeded to attend to the injured 
 forehead. The patient, a man older by ten years than the 
 operator, watched his movements closely. 
 
 " You've more on your mind than the care of a broken 
 head and a bandaged arm," he said at length. 
 
 " And pray, sir, what may it concern any but myself 
 how much or how little I have on my mind? " asked the 
 young doctor coldly. 
 
 " Surely it concerns them not at all ; but one who has 
 seen his fellows under many aspects learns to look be- 
 neath the surface. I have no wish to intermeddle with 
 the concerns of any." 
 
 The young doctor looked at him sharply, tightened 
 the hastily improvised bandage, and then looked 
 again. 
 
 " If you have seen much of the world," he said, " you 
 have learned that there are fools enough in it." 
 
 " And you would imply that I have but now met with 
 another? " 
 
 It may have been due to some magnetism in the 
 stranger's personality, or it may have been owing to the 
 desperate nature of Fulke's circumstances, but it was 
 not many minutes before the young doctor was found
 
 FREE TO SERVE 25 
 
 unburdening himself to his new patient, and explaining 
 to him the cause of his anxiety. An hour passed 
 while yet the two were in close confab, and when at last 
 the elder rose to go he said : 
 
 " If you think best to give it a trial, send a letter to 
 me at the coffee-house called Lloyd's."
 
 26 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE whole village had turned out, from Lady 
 Betty and Sir Julian, of the Great House, to the 
 old dame who had seen every wedding in the 
 place for nigh upon a century. A straggling line of 
 watchers dotted the broad road all the way from a cer- 
 tain picturesque dwelling standing back among the 
 trees, to the door of the church itself. Literally all the 
 way, for one or two of the rustics, a little bolder than 
 their neighbours, had stationed themselves in the broad 
 avenue beyond the great gates, eager to be the first to 
 give notice of the coming of the bridal pair. Of these, 
 the nearest to the door itself was a sturdy youth, whose 
 red-striped breeches and frieze coat were manifestly 
 gala attire. His self-satisfied glances, first at his own 
 person and then at the closed door, revealed the fact that 
 he stood in closer relationship to the principal actors 
 in to-day's scenes than did the majority of the villag- 
 ers. There was an air of superiority in the majestic 
 wave of the hand with which he motioned the nearest 
 rustic to keep at a more respectful distance from the 
 house. The superiority was plainly unquestioned, for 
 the intruder fell back to a position closer to the outside 
 world, and the ruddy-faced youth was left to enjoy his 
 honours alone. As the apprentice and right-hand man 
 of the village carpenter, he was fairly entitled to the dis- 
 tinction of being the first to raise the cry of " Here they 
 be ! '' Since the rising of the sun he had been the 
 busiest man in Eastenholme, as the long white trail 
 from the gates to the church bore witness. Crisp and 
 clean and sweet-scented was that bridal path, and no 
 hands but those of the carpenter's sturdy assistant had
 
 FREE TO SERVE 27 
 
 helped in its making. Its foundation was the well-trod- 
 den footway that skirted the road through the village, 
 and that now, in its altered condition, was a source of 
 much temptation to the juvenile element among the 
 watchers. 
 
 " Keep off o' that path, can't ye? " and " Git off there, 
 you young varmint ! How dare ye set foot on them 
 shavin's?" were now and again the gentle admonishings 
 of some village dame, as an adventurous youngster es- 
 sayed to test the character of the path of honour. 
 
 " Drat the young beggar ! Come off, I tell ye ! " 
 screeched an excited matron, springing forward to be- 
 stow a well-aimed cuff upon the cheek of a small boy, 
 and succeeding so well that she landed him sprawling in 
 the midst of the thick, soft shavings upon which he had 
 ventured to set his presumptuous feet. 
 
 " Look a-there what you've done ! " she added, as she 
 lifted the youngster by one arm, and deposited him, with 
 a warning shake, well out on the road. " Look at that 
 path ! And them shavin's fresh and clean from his own 
 workshop ! " 
 
 Clean and fresh they certainly were, and so thickly 
 spread as to suggest an abundant source of supply. It 
 might well be abundant, for it had long been accumu- 
 lating for this very occasion. 
 
 " I'll give her a road to walk on that's fit for a carpen- 
 ter's bride," worthy John Arkwright had declared. "It'd 
 be none too good for Joan, though I should pile it a foot 
 high." 
 
 And with Joan in his mind the village carpenter had 
 stored up his shavings, that the local custom, long ob- 
 served in that Kentish village, of strewing the path from 
 the house to the church with the symbols of the bride- 
 groom's calling, might in his case be not only appropri- 
 ate, but pretty enough and pleasant enough to be worthy 
 of his bride. For John had waited long for Joan, and
 
 28 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 his joy when the time of waiting was ended was in pro- 
 portion to the length of his probation. And so the long 
 white path shone under the April sunshine, and a sweet 
 smell of pine shavings filled the air, while the villagers 
 commented on the prodigality of the preparations, and 
 the personal characteristics of the carpenter and his 
 bride. 
 
 Meanwhile, within the house the last touches were 
 being put to the bridal attire. The young maiden who 
 acted as tirewoman had a pretty flush on her cheeks, as 
 she arrayed the bride in clothing a little too delicate and 
 costly to have been of that good woman's own devising 
 or purchasing. 
 
 " There ! He who will not wish John well of such a 
 bride is not fit to gain a glimpse of you to-day," she 
 said, bending her head a very little to kiss the cheek 
 that was turned towards her. 
 
 " Joan," she added, ** it is foolish, I know, but I'm 
 truly jealous of John. I feel as if he were robbing me 
 of you." 
 
 " Nay, Miss Aveline, that he never would, nor should. 
 He has waited over-long for me now, but he'd have 
 waited longer if there'd been any question of doing aught 
 for you or the master that's gone — bless him." 
 
 She laid her hand caressingly on the girl's shoulder, 
 and a look of anxiety crossed her face. 
 
 " Now John will have reason to be jealous," said the 
 girl, with an attempt at playfulness. 
 
 " Not he. He knows better, and if he didn't, he'd 
 soon learn his place. You and the master have stood 
 first always, and are like to — leastways, you are. There's 
 no more we can any of us do for him. But don't you 
 never think there's anybody, not even John himself, 
 that's going to be thought of before you." 
 
 She stood for a moment looking straight into the 
 girl's eyes, her own soft with tenderness, for it was many
 
 FREE TO SERVE 29 
 
 years since, as a little child, this maiden had crept into 
 Joan's heart. 
 
 " There, now," cried the girl, suddenly changing her 
 tone, " your last chance has come ! Take one good long 
 look at yourself in the glass. I am going to fasten on 
 this knot of ribbon, and verily it is the last finishing 
 touch to the bridal costume. Look well at your charms, 
 for, after it is in place, woe to you if you cast so much 
 as a glance towards the mirror. For well you know 
 that the bride who looks upon herself when her attire is 
 complete is tempting ill-luck to dog her steps." 
 
 What bride could help looking, and, at the sight, how 
 could this particular bride help smiling? She made a 
 pleasing picture, standing before the quaint old mirror, 
 for John was not wrong in boasting that he was to wed 
 as handsome a woman as Eastenholme could furnish. 
 A well-built, comely woman, straight and strong, was 
 Joan, fit mate for the carpenter whose honest industry 
 had enabled him to prepare for her a home a little better 
 than the average home of the village. 
 
 " John has need to call himself a fortunate man to-day," 
 said Aveline, as, the last ribbon fastened in place, she 
 carefully stepped between Joan and the glass, that the ill- 
 luck of viewing her own person when every preparation 
 was complete might not follow the bride. 
 
 And so John thought, and the villagers said, as the 
 pair walked, with many a conscious glance, along the path 
 to church, where Aveline herself acted as bridesmaid, 
 and Lady Betty and Sir Julian were the first to greet the 
 bride when the ceremony was ended. 
 
 Later in the day the house within the big gates was 
 thrown open wide, and sounds of merriment reached the 
 road, where a horseman drew rein to listen. He was 
 hidden from view by a clump of trees, and as the sounds 
 continued he turned his horse's head and rode back to 
 where a narrow lane opened into the highway. There
 
 30 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 was laughter and good cheer up there at the house, but 
 apparently he did not wish to share in them, nor was 
 he particularly pleased at their presence. In truth, it 
 was the first time that the house had opened its doors 
 to the Eastenholme world since the day its master was 
 carried from its shelter. It was for this reason that 
 John had waited for his bride : first, that she might per- 
 form the last duties for her master; and then, that no 
 unseemly haste might savour of want of respect for his 
 memory. 
 
 But thoughts of sorrow seemed far from the dwelling 
 to-day, as men and maids, the swains and rustic beauties 
 of the village, ranged themselves for a contest they would 
 have been sorry to have omitted on such an occasion as 
 this. The least-encumbered space — the big broad hall 
 — was resorted to as the most suitable spot for the carry- 
 ing-out of this important part of the wedding revels, and, 
 as a preliminary step, the married men and women, with 
 much joking at the expense of the younger members of 
 the company, dropped out of the ranks. There was a 
 stir and flutter among the maidens, and a little shy 
 nudging on the part of the bachelors, while they ranged 
 themselves on opposite sides for the deciding of that 
 all-important question, who amongst the girls should be 
 the next to be called a bride, to be followed immediately 
 after by the pointing out of the lucky youth who, of 
 all the strong-armed, stout-built lads, would first buy a 
 wedding-ring and take to himself a wife. 
 
 " Miss Aveline ! Where's Miss Aveline?" called a 
 daring swain, 
 
 " Yes, yes. Miss Aveline, you've got to come, too !" 
 exclaimed the girls, as Aveline appeared, holding in her 
 hand a shoe that had more than once seen service on 
 her own little foot. 
 
 It was of white kid, goloshed with black velvet, and 
 was clogged to keep the delicate upper from the ground.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 31 
 
 That clog — a straight strip of sole-leather, passing under 
 the heel, and fastened in at the toe between the sole 
 and the upper — did not make the shoe a partic- 
 ularly convenient thing to walk with, but it had its use 
 on a muddy road. Now the shoe was held aloft, to be 
 seized by the carpenter's apprentice himself. 
 
 " Now, then, maids ! All ready? " he asked. 
 
 " No, no ! Not till Miss Aveline takes her place," 
 was the general cry, and Aveline stepped to a vacant 
 spot in the middle of the row of girls. 
 
 " Now, here goes ! One, two, three ! " 
 
 Away sped the shoe, falling nowhere within the hall, 
 but spinning through the open door as far as the strong 
 arm of the youth could throw it. Then there was a 
 rush and a scuffle as each girl tried to possess herself 
 of the coveted shoe, for she who should secure it might 
 look to be the first of the bevy to become a happy bride. 
 What a commotion there was as the village lasses sought 
 high and low for the treasure ! 
 
 Meanwhile Aveline disengaged herself from the 
 throng. She thought she had seen a gleam of white 
 over in a clump of lilacs upon the edge of the old-fash- 
 ioned garden. To reach the spot unseen she stepped 
 behind the shrubs into a pathway just below the tall 
 hedge. She did not chance to lift her eyes, or she 
 would have seen the head of a horseman appearing above 
 the greenery. For a moment the rider watched her as 
 she stooped and peered through the bushes. Then he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Aveline ! " he said softly. She started and turned 
 round. 
 
 "Fulke! I'm so glad. When — " 
 
 " Hush ! Don't bring all that noisy crew on top of 
 me," he said. " What are they doing, rioting over the 
 place like this?" 
 
 The light died from the girl's face, and a look of
 
 32 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 disappointment, not unmixed with reproach, took its 
 place. 
 
 " Why, you must know that this is Joan's wedding-day. 
 I told you about it not a month ago, when I last wrote to 
 you," she said. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! I remember, though it had slipped my 
 mind. But what has that to do with all this com- 
 motion? Couldn't John wed Joan in a quiet way, in- 
 stead of turning the place upside down, or, if they must 
 needs rampage, could no other spot be found for their 
 revels? " 
 
 " Fulke, how can you?" said the girl indignantly. 
 " Do you think I would let Joan be wedded from any 
 other house than this? Hasn't she been here ever 
 since she was a young girl, so that it is almost as much 
 her home as it is mine? I believe she loves it nearly 
 as well as I do myself." 
 
 The young man turned his head away, and a deeper 
 shadow crossed his face. 
 
 " You girls make so much fuss about such things," he 
 said. " Of course I know Joan has been a faithful ser- 
 vant, but as long as she was safely married, it could make 
 but little difference whether she started from one spot or 
 another to have the knot tied. For the matter of that, 
 you yourself could soon learn to love another place as 
 well as this." 
 
 He spoke with evident constraint. If Aveline could 
 have seen the hand that held the reins, she would have 
 noticed that it trembled. Fulke Nevard was not much 
 given to nervousness, but there was more trepidation than 
 assurance in his movements just then. It was so far from 
 easy for him to look into his sister's eyes, that he did not 
 even attempt it. 
 
 " Fulke, there is something wrong," she said, ignor- 
 ing his last speech.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 33 
 
 Her brother sat in gloomy silence, looking down at 
 his horse. 
 
 " What is it? " asked the girl anxiously. 
 
 " What is it? " he repeated, in a tone of suppressed 
 passion. " Nothing, only I am the most unfortunate 
 wretch on the face of the earth. And that matters little 
 to any but me, I suppose." 
 
 " Oh, Fulke, you know that is not true ! " said the girl, 
 the tears starting to her eyes. " But you are tired and 
 worried, and — Why, you are wounded ! " 
 
 For he had raised his arm, not the one that guided the 
 horse, and the girl had caught a momentary glimpse of 
 a blood-stain upon the sleeve. 
 
 " Oh, this wretched scratch has broken out bleeding 
 again ! " he said. 
 
 Then Aveline forgot her indignation, and her heart 
 found reason and excuse for the young man's irritation. 
 
 " Come into the house," she said pityingly, " and I will 
 send one of the lads to attend to your horse. You were 
 not fit to ride." 
 
 " You will do nothing of the sort," said Fulke. " Go 
 back to your games, and leave me to see to the animal 
 myself. I tell you I will not have that set staring at me. 
 I'll slip in by the side door, and keep quiet till their 
 sport is over ; but go you back to the rest, or they'll be 
 seeking you here." 
 
 Then, as she turned to leave him, he leant over the 
 hedge. 
 
 " Aveline, I'm a desperate man," he said. " I've no 
 heart for revels, and no tongue for smooth words. Go, 
 like a good girl, and keep the coast clear," 
 
 And Aveline, her heart oppressed by a weight she did 
 not understand, sought her guests, and tried to laugh 
 and be gay while the blushing, satisfied maiden who had 
 gained possession of the shoe tossed it back into the 
 ranks of the waiting youths, and a scuffle, less prolonged,
 
 34 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 if more vigorous, than the last, gave it into the keeping 
 of the lad destined by force of arm to possess it and the 
 promise it brought. But the girl's thoughts were not 
 following her eyes, for all the time she was listening for 
 the sound of her brother's step, and trying to quiet her 
 fears as she recalled his excited tones, and thought of 
 the great red stain.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 35 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 " I aULKE, there is something dreadful the matter ! " 
 
 r^ Aveline laid her hand tenderly on her brother's 
 JL. arm. 
 
 " That? " he said, in a hard, dry tone. " 'Tis nothing. 
 A sword-thrust, a mere scratch. I rode hard, or it 
 would not have bled again." 
 
 " But it ought to be attended to," said Aveline anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " As you will. It has grown stiff." 
 
 He began slowly to undo the bandage, and Aveline ran 
 to fetch fresh linen. When she returned she found her 
 place usurped by Joan. 
 
 " That's right, Miss Aveline. It needs new bandages 
 sadly. It's not easy to look at that wound and believe 
 that Mr. Fulke is a doctor," said the woman bluntly. 
 
 She replaced the linen with a skill that told of long 
 practice in that very necessary art. The young man 
 submitted his arm to her, scarcely bestowing a glance 
 upon the wound. 
 
 " And how came you by so ugly a thrust, sir? " asked 
 Joan, as she smoothed and secured the bandage. 
 
 " Oh ! a little altercation with a companion. It was 
 nothing," said the young man, in a tone that was meant 
 to be repressive. 
 
 Joan lingered. She was not satisfied. She had not 
 tended these two from childhood without knowing well 
 the signs of disturbance. 
 
 " Will you sleep here to-night, sir, or go up to the 
 House with Miss Aveline?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh ! I'll stay here. I've no mind for one of Sir 
 Julian's lectures."
 
 36 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 A shade of annoyance crossed his face the moment 
 the words were uttered. They were too near the truth 
 to be exactly what he desired to say. 
 
 Joan departed, and AveHne hovered round her brother. 
 
 " Have you had anything to eat? You must be — " 
 
 " Nay, I dined at an inn, and was never in less need 
 of food," said the young man irritably. 
 
 Because he had much to say, he found it particularly 
 hard to speak, and grew more nervously impatient as 
 he discovered that certain carefully prepared arguments 
 were growing momentarily less convincing, as he viewed 
 them in the light of his present surroundings. 
 
 "Fulke, what is it?" 
 
 Aveline had been studying his face ever since Joan 
 went away. 
 
 " Ruin," said Fulke shortly. 
 
 " Is it money? Couldn't I help you? I have a little 
 left, and we have found a tenant for the house. That 
 will bring more." 
 
 " Yes, you can help prodigiously if you can get up 
 five or six hundred pounds before night," said Fulke 
 bitterly. 
 
 " Five or six hundred pounds? " 
 
 " Exactly so. And if not, you can have the pleasure 
 of bidding good-by to your brother forever, for it's a 
 life sentence." 
 
 Aveline turned pale. 
 
 " Fulke, what do you mean? " she said. 
 
 " I mean that a very fiend has his clutches on me ; 
 and if he gain his will — and heaven knows what's to 
 hinder — he will never rest till he sees me in a pau- 
 per's grave." 
 
 " But — why should he? Who is it? What does he 
 want? " 
 
 "Who is it? Wyville of Wyville. And he wants 
 revenge, and will have it too. Trust him for that."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 37 
 
 Aveline glanced at the wounded arm. Instinctively 
 she associated the sword-thrust with this desire for 
 revenge, and the tangible evidence of danger gave force 
 to her brother's words. 
 
 " Aye," he said, interpreting the look, " it's the mark 
 of his sword, but I doubt I gave him a worse prick, 
 more's the pity." 
 
 Bit by bit she heard the story ; that is to say, as much 
 of it as Fulke felt it expedient to impart. There were 
 many reservations quite necessary when a man was talk- 
 ing to his sister. Aveline followed the recital breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 " How did you get away? " she asked, when the tale 
 was told. 
 
 " Sneaked off like a thief, before the city was awake." 
 
 "And now? Couldn't you stay here? You would 
 be safe then." 
 
 " For how long, I pray you ? I would give a good bit 
 to discover the spot in England where I should be safe 
 from Wyville's pursuit. He will move heaven and earth 
 to be revenged, and he knows the locality of this place 
 about as well as I do myself. I should not be surprised 
 to see a bailiff walk in at this moment." 
 
 Aveline glanced apprehensively towards the open 
 window. Fulke laughed — a harsh, mirthless laugh. 
 
 " Don't, Fulke," said the girl hastily. " You behave 
 as if nobody cared." 
 
 " And for the matter of that, who does care? " asked 
 the young man. 
 
 " I do. You know I do." 
 
 Her brother shrugged his shoulders, but made no 
 other answer. She laid her hand on his, 
 
 " There's nobody but us two now," she said. 
 
 " Very true," he answered, letting the words come 
 slowly. " Only us two, but how much does that mean 
 to you ? What would you do to save me from a life
 
 38 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 worse than death? Nothing ! There," he added, half 
 relenting when he met her reproachful look, " I've no 
 doubt I'm a brute, but I'm desperate, and to me it 
 seems — " 
 
 "Yes," said Aveline quietly, "it seems — " 
 
 " That real love would not stop to weigh a brother's 
 life against — even a place like this." 
 
 He gave a long, comprehensive glance, that took in 
 house and garden and surroundings. Aveline's eyes 
 were fixed on his face. Her cheek had lost every trace 
 of colour. Even her lips had grown white. 
 
 " Which means — what? " she said. 
 
 " Who said it meant anything? Yes, if you will have 
 it, it means that there is more sisterly kindness in a 
 little real help than in many a mouthful of sympathy." 
 
 Aveline winced, but her steady gaze did not relax. 
 
 "What would you propose in the place of the sympa- 
 thy?" she asked ; but while she said the words she knew 
 what the answer would be. 
 
 He turned upon her eagerly. 
 
 " Aveline, you could help me. There is a way. And 
 it would not be so very hard, if you could only think it." 
 
 That steady gaze continued. It disconcerted him. 
 He moved uneasily. 
 
 " This place, now," he continued. " It is yours, of 
 course. I don't deny your right to it." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 He had stopped, as if for an answer. 
 
 "Aveline, this place would save me." 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 " And you should not lose by it. Not a penny. In 
 fact, you would gain. It is really as much for your good 
 as for my own. But of course you cannot see it so now. 
 But you can see that it would save me." 
 
 The last words were spoken pleadingly. 
 
 "Yes — I see."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 39 
 
 She understood his meaning perfectly. She had 
 known all along to what he was coming, but the extent 
 of his demand was growing more clearly apparent. 
 
 " I know you love the place," continued the young 
 man eagerly. " And so, for the matter of that, do I. 
 It's a fine old place, and it's a thousand pities to part 
 with it, but I'm not asking you to let it go for nothing. 
 The plan I would propose would make you the richer 
 instead of the poorer, and — " 
 
 " The richer, when the home Jie loved belonged to 
 strangers? " 
 
 The girl's tones were very low and distinct. As for 
 her eyes, they had never swerved from their steady 
 scrutiny of her brother's face. He grew irritable beneath 
 the gaze. 
 
 " I did not ask you to let it go to strangers," he said. 
 " I don't know that I ever attempted to open the sub- 
 ject. I wasn't such a fool as not to know that your love 
 for the place was greater than — " 
 
 He hesitated to finish the sentence. 
 
 " Was greater than my love for you," said AveHne 
 quietly. 
 
 " Yes," cried Fulke passionately. " It is greater. 
 You set a higher value on the stone and mortar of this 
 old house than you do on my life. I doubt not you are 
 right. One is of infinitely more profit to you than the 
 other." 
 
 He broke off" abruptly. The silence that followed 
 was unbroken by any movement on his sister's part. 
 She sat looking fixedly at him, as if waiting for his next 
 remark. 
 
 " I was a fool to enter upon the subject at all," he 
 resumed. " You asked me whether there was anything 
 you could do. Heavens ! Did you think a few soft 
 words could avail in a strait like mine? 
 
 " And as for letting the place go to a stranger," he
 
 40 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 continued, cooling down under the influence of the dead 
 silence that followed his last words, and possibly influ- 
 enced by a quick glance he cast in Aveline's direction, 
 " there is no earthly reason why it should ever do that. 
 Sir Julian will be glad enough to have it. But if there 
 were, I know not why your feelings should be further 
 hurt, since it is to be in the hands of strangers in any 
 case. It was but now you told me a tenant had been 
 found for it." 
 
 " True," said Aveline. " I have regretted much that 
 it should be so. Fulke, does it really seem nothing to 
 you that careless hands will touch the things lie loved? 
 To me the necessity is a sorrow, but Uncle Julian says 
 the place must not be unused, and truly it is the only 
 way in which I can feel myself independent. I know 
 father wished me to be that." 
 
 What made the young man rise and walk hastily to 
 the window? He was silent for some minutes, but over 
 the face that he kept persistently turned to the land- 
 scape without there came signs of a conflict. He turned 
 round suddenly. 
 
 " There's no hope and no help for a fellow when 
 once he gets into trouble," he said hoarsely. " Every 
 step he takes to drag himself out but plunges him 
 deeper in the mire. Thank goodness, you're a girl, 
 and have no temptation to be anything but exemplary. 
 For me, I'm undone. I give up the struggle. There's 
 no way out ; I fancied there might be." 
 
 He sank into his old seat, and dropped his head in 
 his hands. He had come here clinging desperately to 
 a hope that in his heart he knew had but a slender 
 foundation. He had put that hope between him and 
 ruin. At this moment there was forced upon him the 
 conviction that it was possible for the alternative to be 
 a little less desirable than the ruin he dreaded, that 
 the turning of his hope into a certainty might be more
 
 FREE TO SERVE 41 
 
 of a calamity than a blessing. His despair did more 
 for him than all his hot words. 
 
 " Don't, Fulke, dear. It is not true that there is no 
 way out." 
 
 Aveline's hand was on his shoulder. The hardness 
 had gone from her face. If her brother had looked up 
 he would have seen that her lips trembled. 
 
 " I suppose a man ought to have the courage to face 
 destruction when he has been fool enough to court it," 
 said Fulke, without raising his head. 
 
 " Perhaps he ought," said the girl, with honest can- 
 dour, " but it might be easier to look for a way out. 
 Tell me your plan. Though you give me but a hard 
 character, it may possibly be found that you have done 
 me scant justice." 
 
 Fulke lifted his head and looked at her. 
 
 "Better not ask it," he said. '* I am a sorry coward, 
 I fear, and the very suggestion of deliverance makes me 
 wild enough to forget everything but my own need. 
 And yet, in very truth, I thought I could see a great gain 
 to you in the move." 
 
 His face had begun to grow eager again. Already his 
 carefully prepared arguments were gaining the mastery 
 over the brief impulse towards a self-abnegation that had 
 its origin in an unwonted upspringing of the sense of 
 justice towards another. 
 
 " What is it you were going to propose ? " 
 
 He looked at her irresolutely for a moment, and then 
 the words broke forth hurriedly. 
 
 " I know it seems impossible to you that I should 
 succeed at anything," he said. " I have been unlucky, — 
 a fool, if you will, — but I have my chance at last. I verily 
 believe it is the chance of a thousand. A little money 
 now would mean a fortune in a fewyears. Men are grow- 
 ing rich while I am but getting deeper in difficulty. Out 
 in the colonies of America I could turn a shilling into a
 
 42 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 pound in no time. And I have not even to face the ques- 
 tion of experience. I may go with one who has enougii 
 experience for both. He is wilHng to take a partner in 
 a venture he is about to make, and truly I think myself 
 fortunate to have met with him at this juncture." 
 
 " You want to leave England? " 
 
 The question came almost with a gasp. 
 
 "What else can I do?" said Fulke. "I must go 
 somewhere, if I would keep out of prison. Where 
 could I have a better opening? I have done little 
 enough here." 
 
 " And you desire to go and leave me all alone? " 
 
 The words were reproachful. 
 
 " It would make no difference to you," said Fulke. 
 " You would stay with Sir Julian and Lady Betty, as 
 usual." 
 
 " And no difference to you ? Will it be all the same 
 to you when the sea is between us? " 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly. Somehow it was not 
 natural for him to view things in the light of what, in his 
 inmost heart, he called sentiment. 
 
 " Of course I should prefer to remain at home. It is 
 a species of banishment," he said. " But it is better to be 
 banished than to be imprisoned." 
 
 "Then you really intend to leave me behind?" 
 
 " Why, yes ! As a matter of fact, it never occurred to 
 me to take you along." 
 
 " Did it occur to you to think what I was to live on 
 when this place was gone?" 
 
 Her voice was growing hard again. 
 
 " Why, you will have to stay with Sir Julian and Lady 
 Betty, of course. There could be no better arrange- 
 ment." 
 
 " Stay as a beggar? " 
 
 He looked at her sharply. 
 
 " There will be no thought of money in Sir Julian's
 
 FREE TO SERVE 43 
 
 mind," he said. " He and Lady Betty will be just as 
 glad to have you then as now." 
 
 " And you are content that your sister should be a 
 pauper? " 
 
 " What nonsense you talk ! " said Fulke impatiently. 
 " As if there could ever be any such question in your 
 case. Of course you will repay them when I succeed. 
 I never intended this money to be anything but a loan. 
 You shall have every penny of it again, and in the mean- 
 time a fair share of the profits will be yours. If you were 
 a man instead of a girl, you would perceive how much 
 this scheme is to your advantage." 
 
 " Suppose that the profits should be naught?" said 
 Aveline. 
 
 " They will not be. It is impossible. And in any 
 case you would be safe. Sir Julian would never grudge 
 a home to his own niece." 
 
 "Fulke," said Aveline, slowly and thoughtfully, "I 
 do not know whether your plan be a wise one or not, 
 but one thing is certain. If you go to the colonies in 
 pursuance of this scheme, and take with you all the 
 money this place will bring, you will not go alone. If 
 we make the venture together, it must be together." 
 
 Her eyes were reading his face. For the moment it 
 expressed annoyance and defeat. Then he laughed. 
 
 " I wonder what you think you could do out there," 
 he said. 
 
 " I don't know. I don't pretend to know. But 
 under the circumstances you propose, our place is 
 together. Does it make the alternative harder?" 
 
 There was a wistful tone in her voice. 
 
 " Yes. In one way it does." 
 
 A deeper shadow passed over her face. Fulke 
 saw it. 
 
 " You are a foolish child," he said, " or you would 
 not think you know better than your elders. It is not
 
 44 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 reasonable that the thought of taking you to probable 
 hardship could be pleasant to me." 
 
 But even as he spoke Fulke saw possible advantages 
 in the plan. If Aveline went with him, Sir Julian's 
 guardianship over her would practically cease, and the 
 young man could not but see that any defection on his 
 part in the matter of payments would not be as sum- 
 marily visited upon his head. Not that he had any 
 grave doubts of ultimate success. Only there was 
 always the possibility of failure, and in taking from 
 Aveline the home that had been their father's provision 
 for his daughter, he was taking from her everything she 
 possessed. It was this thought that had almost availed 
 to change his purpose. 
 
 " But suppose I am willing to put up with the hard- 
 ship?" 
 
 " I am afraid you do not know what a change of cir- 
 cumstances it will be. Life in the Province of New 
 York, where I shall go if I venture at all, is not like life 
 at the House." 
 
 "But we should be together. Could I not make it 
 happier for you?" 
 
 " Of course you could," said Fulke, gaining posses- 
 sion of the hand that had dropped from his shoulder. 
 " And a good little housekeeper you would be. But it 
 would be selfish to let you go. Sir Julian would never 
 consent." 
 
 It was so long before the discussion ended that Joan 
 had found time to clear and sweep and scrub away 
 every trace of the wedding revellers, and John was 
 hovering about, persuading her to shut up the house 
 and come with him to the new village home, while yet 
 the brother and sister were in earnest converse. 
 
 " Hoot, man, you can wait a bit longer on Miss 
 Aveline's pleasure," said Joan. " You will have enough 
 of me before a month is out, I'll answer for it."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 45 
 
 But John was impatient. He had waited for Joan 
 long enough to make him imperious in this day of the 
 fulfilment of his hopes. Everything was in readiness for 
 shutting up the house. Until now Joan had been left in 
 charge of the old home, though Aveline had taken up 
 her abode at the Great House with her uncle. Now 
 the place was to be closed until the tenant came. Joan 
 lingered over the last duties, waiting for the brother and 
 sister to appear. 
 
 " Better go and remind them of the lateness of the 
 hour," suggested John. " They have lost all account 
 of time, or they would have started for the House 
 before this." 
 
 " Mr. Fulke said he should stay here," said Joan. 
 " But mayhap he will think better of it. If not, I must 
 get him supper before I go, and maybe come up again 
 to see that all is comfortable for the night." 
 
 John's answer was certainly a growl. Just now he did 
 not feel particularly loyal to the young man who was 
 delaying his happiness, 
 
 Joan's hand was on the door-knob, and her knuckles 
 were in contact with the door, for she had concluded to 
 know her fate, even at the risk of disturbing Miss Ave- 
 line, when the handle was turned from the inside, and 
 Fulke threw the door open wide. His face wore a soft- 
 ened look that did not escape Joan's scrutinizing eye. 
 
 " Why, what is this? " he asked, as he stepped back. 
 
 " I was coming to see if you wanted aught else to- 
 night, sir," said Joan, in nowise disconcerted by the 
 sudden encounter. " It is getting time for Miss Aveline 
 to be at the House, and as for John, his patience has 
 ebbed out long ago, and he is like to begin his new life 
 with a fit of the spleen." 
 
 " That is too bad, Joan," said Aveline, coming to the 
 door and laying her hand affectionately on Joan's. 
 
 " Fulke, you had better come up to the House with
 
 46 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 me. It is not fair to cheat Joan of her wedding pleas- 
 
 ures." 
 
 " Nay, good Joan, that shall not be," said the young 
 man, in the hearty tones the good woman remembered 
 of old. " I will even shift for myself to-night. Go you 
 to your new duties, and every happiness go with you." 
 
 But Joan was not to be persuaded. Not until the 
 table was set for supper, and Fulke's room prepared for 
 him, did she gladden John's heart by walking through 
 the village by his side. It was in the quiet time between 
 the day and the night, and under the overhanging trees 
 in the park, through which Aveline was at that moment 
 making her way, the shadows were thick. They availed 
 to hide the tears that she would not for anything have 
 allowed Lady Betty or Sir Julian to see, and when she 
 came out into the open space about the House the girl 
 was herself again.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 47 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE library windows were thrown open wide, and 
 Sir Julian Nevard stood with his back to one of 
 them, his ample figure showing dark and impos- 
 ing in the opening. There was a difiference of opinion 
 between Sir Julian and Lady Betty. Not that this was 
 in any way an unusual state of affairs. The only un- 
 usual feature was the persistency with which Sir Julian 
 returned to the attack. 
 
 " The girl's a fool where that scapegrace is con- 
 cerned," he said, and though the words were harsh, the 
 full rich tones of Sir Julian's voice robbed them of half 
 their ugliness. 
 
 "Then let her abide by her folly," said Lady Betty. 
 " I'll wager she's not half such a fool as you give her 
 credit for being." 
 
 " The boy's never been any good, and never will be," 
 asserted Sir Julian. 
 
 *' Little you know what he'll be," returned Lady Betty. 
 *' What chance has he had? Time enough to pass judg- 
 ment when he has had a fair show." 
 
 " Fair show ! Didn't he have more money spent 
 over sending him to Cambridge, and clearing off his 
 debts before he could come away again, and then start- 
 ing him afresh in London, than ever has fallen to the 
 girl's share? And what did he make of it all? " 
 
 "What did he make? As handsome a young fellow 
 as any in England. What more would you have? The 
 lad was never meant to be a molly-coddles." 
 
 " I fear me he was never meant to be a man, or if he 
 was, there was some mistake in the making," said Sir
 
 48 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Julian. " Handsome, forsooth ! He's in a handsome 
 case now, sure enough." 
 
 " And like to keep there, if you have your way," 
 retorted Lady Betty. 
 
 " Yes, and so he may," said Sir Julian. " Who's to 
 look after the girl's interests if I don't? You women 
 are all alike. Give you a young scamp with a pretty 
 face, and he may play the mischief with your pockets 
 and your hearts." 
 
 "Take your own way then," said Lady Betty, " and 
 see what thanks you'll get either from the one or the 
 other. I'll warrant you Aveline will never rest with 
 that lad behind a prison gate," 
 
 " Scant rest she's likely to have any way," growled 
 Sir Julian. " The child's life is bound to be spoiled, 
 look at it from which side you will." 
 
 " Hoity-toity ! A girl's life isn't spoiled so easy. 
 Ten to one but in twelve months' time she'll be glad of 
 the change." 
 
 Sir Julian shook his head. 
 
 " Nay, your wit is good enough as a rule," he said, 
 " but where that boy is concerned your heart speaks 
 louder than your head. 'Tis the change I fear. It is 
 too violent. And the child's heart is not in it. Truly, 
 I have the greatest mind to put my foot down upon the 
 whole affair. I could lend the lad a little — " 
 
 " And lose your money for your pains," interrupted 
 Lady Betty. "What end will it answer? A change 
 of surroundings is what the lad needs. Give him a 
 new start, and he is made. Leave him here, and he 
 is undone." 
 
 There was truth in Lady Betty's words. So far as 
 Fulke was concerned, Sir Julian fully approved of the 
 plan of emigration. But it was another thing for Ave- 
 line. When the girl first came to him with her propo- 
 sition, he flatly refused to listen. Give up her home?
 
 FREE TO SERVE 49 
 
 Sell the house that was her father's provision for her 
 future? Not while he was her guardian. He waxed 
 hot and wroth against the youth who had dared to 
 put such an idea in the child's head. 
 
 Had he but known it, his wrath had done more than 
 anything else to confirm Aveline in her half-formed 
 determination. Her home was very dear to the girl. 
 It seemed almost impossible that she could give it up. 
 Even when she promised Fulke to think over his prop- 
 osition, and talk with her uncle about it, she could not 
 really resolve to cut herself off from the old life. The 
 future, too, looked dark. But when she broached the 
 matter to Sir Julian, and met his uncompromising de- 
 nunciations of her brother, she gradually shifted her 
 ground. Fulke had not been far wrong in saying 
 there was no hope for him — no hope but in her. 
 And was she, too, to fail him? In Sir Julian's anger 
 she read the world's judgment against the offender, 
 and she ranged herself on his side. 
 
 The young man had displayed considerable discre- 
 tion in keeping away from the House until the storm 
 had had time to blow over. Of Lady Betty's sympa- 
 thy he was certain. The lad had always been a fa- 
 vourite with that sharp-voiced lady, and she thought 
 it only proper that his sister should sacrifice her inter- 
 est in his behalf. But Sir Julian was obdurate. The 
 greatest concession Aveline could win from him was 
 the promise that he would talk to Fulke, and see 
 whether there was " anything beyond foolery in the 
 scheme." For the rest, she was obliged to wait. Sir 
 Julian had full control over her and her property, and 
 full liberty to make any provision that might seem to 
 him to be for her benefit. With his consent the house 
 could legally be sold — without it she was powerless. 
 
 It was no wonder that Fulke's breath came a trifle 
 irregularly, as, a little later in the day on which Lady
 
 50 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Betty and Sir Julian had so amicably discussed his 
 affairs, he met his uncle in the library for the purpose 
 of unfolding his scheme. Sir Julian looked taller, more 
 ample, and more imposing than usual. There was x 
 certain stately formality about him, a judicial air, that 
 was not without its effect on the young man. It was 
 not easy to hold on to illusions in that presence. Plain 
 facts looked plainer and more uncompromising. It was 
 possible, in Sir Julian's deep musical voice, to designate 
 actions by their simple unvarnished titles without being 
 brutal, but such handling of them was not pleasant to 
 the listener. 
 
 Fulke had not found it a particularly easy task to tell 
 the story of his difficulties to his sister. To unburden 
 himself to Sir Julian was, to say the least of it, no easier. 
 Certain accommodating reservations, by which, in the 
 former case, he had saved his credit, were of no avail 
 to-day. There was an uncomfortable directness about 
 Sir Julian's questions, and an uncompromising candour 
 about his method of summing up the information they 
 brought him. Moreover, he insisted upon going into 
 the subject of the debts before he touched on the young 
 man's scheme for retrieving them. Not that Fulke was 
 prepared with anything like a clear statement of his lia- 
 bilities. It had been too long his aim to keep himself 
 in ignorance of unpleasant facts, to leave it possible for 
 him to give his uncle all the particulars he demanded. 
 
 But if Sir Julian did not succeed in getting a very 
 clear idea of the extent of his nephew's indebtedness, 
 he managed to give that young man a very clear idea 
 of how his follies looked in the light of their inevit- 
 able consequences. By the time he was free to lay bare 
 his plans for the future, Fulke found himself entirely 
 lacking in that hopefulness of heart that had before been 
 of so much assistance to him in setting forth the advan- 
 tages of the proposed venture. Nevertheless he did his
 
 FREE TO SERVE 51 
 
 best to convince Sir Julian of the almost certain fortune 
 that awaited him in the Province of New York, whither 
 he desired to convey himself, and all that was left of the 
 proceeds of his sister's inheritance when his debts were 
 honourably paid. Every penny that could be spared 
 was to go towards purchasing such articles as would 
 most surely tempt the native taste, for it was as a trader 
 among the Indians that Fulke expected to reap the rich 
 harvest to which he was looking forward. 
 
 The stranger who had come to him for surgical assist- 
 ance was but lately returned from that province, hav- 
 ing come to England for the purpose of taking over a 
 large assortment of goods likely to prove useful in the 
 Indian trade. He was willing to give Fulke the benefit 
 of his experience, and to admit the young man into a 
 fair and equal partnership with himself. There were 
 more openings than he could take advantage of, and 
 he was desirous of associating with himself a young and 
 active man. 
 
 Sir Julian listened critically. Once or twice he nod- 
 ded assent. Fulke's spirits rose. He began to hope 
 for ultimate success. He made much of the gain, and 
 touched lightly on the price that was to be paid for it. 
 In the midst of his comfortable anticipations. Sir Julian 
 cut him short. 
 
 " You had better go down to Crowfields for a few 
 days," he said, " and leave your sister to think the 
 matter over. It is not a trifle you are asking of her." 
 
 " I am little likely to forget that, sir," said the young 
 man. " Yet, much as I need the money, I would not 
 ask her to do it were it not for her benefit. It is but 
 a pittance at best, between her and poverty, — the rent 
 of my father's place. When she might change it for 
 riches, aye, possibly for great riches, in a few years, it 
 seems but sentimental folly to refuse." 
 
 Fulke was warming with his subject.
 
 52 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 "Exactly so," said Sir Julian drily; " especially when 
 your sister remembers the evident proofs of thrift and 
 business capacity that have been given by the young 
 man who is to accomplish all these wonders. Verily, 
 none but a sentimental girl would hesitate to sell her 
 inheritance, and place the proceeds in the hands of — 
 well, let us put it in a mild form — of one who has shown 
 so little wit, or so little care for the consequences, that 
 his own share of wealth — and it is as well to remember 
 that this was by far the larger share — has vanished in 
 thin air. Such inexplicable reluctance is only worthy of 
 a girl's foolishness. But she's a girl with a heart, Fulke," 
 said the older man, his tone changing at the words, and 
 his voice taking to itself a gentle ringing clearness, " and 
 it would have to be a big sacrifice she would not be 
 prepared to make for the sake of a certain scapegrace 
 brother, who, to my mind, knows little of the treasure he 
 possesses in that girl," 
 
 For a moment Fulke drew himself up proudly, and his 
 eyes flashed as he met those others which were regard- 
 ing him so coolly. Something in the steadfastness of 
 the gaze, however, made his eyelids droop. After all, 
 his answer was a humble one. 
 
 " I have little doubt that I seem to you both a rogue 
 and a fool," he said. " Possibly I deserve the judgment." 
 
 " You will be all you say, and more, if you take lightly 
 this sacrifice from your sister, and go the way you have 
 been walking of late," said Sir Julian plainly. " Mind 
 you, I make no promise that I will allow her thus to put 
 her future in your hands. But should she do so, none 
 but an arrant coward would let her suffer for her gener- 
 osity." 
 
 "By what right do you infer that I could be guilty of 
 the meanness you describe? " asked Fulke hotly. 
 
 "By what precedent am I to infer that you will not? " 
 demanded Sir Julian.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 53 
 
 The young man turned away. He was well aware 
 that his uncle was speaking but the plain truth, but 
 under existing circumstances no calumny could be quite 
 so galling as this same unexaggerated truth. Fulke had 
 always found it expedient to avoid as far as possible com- 
 ing to close quarters with Sir Julian. Yet, in his heart, 
 the older man had a strong desire to help the younger. 
 Also he knew that the idea having once taken possession 
 of Aveline's mind, she would never rest until she had 
 found some way of helping her brother. But he adhered 
 to his determination of postponing his decision. It was 
 only fair that Aveline should have time to weigh the 
 matter well before she consented to so complete a change. 
 His nephew would be comparatively safe at Crowfields, 
 a small shooting-lodge belonging to Sir Julian, and a 
 little solitary reflection would be no bad beginning for a 
 new career. 
 
 So to Crowfields Fulke repaired, while Eady Betty 
 fumed, and Aveline's face wore a wistful look that caused 
 Sir Julian to utter many an exclamation, not quite of 
 the nature of a blessing, in which the name of his young 
 nephew figured conspicuously.
 
 54 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THERE was no sign of the sun, nor would be for 
 an hour and more, though the yellow dawn was 
 trying its strength with the starlight in about an 
 even competition. The earliest birds were not yet awake. 
 The Great House had opened one eye, for a maid had 
 just unclosed a shutter, and let in a puff of the cool morn- 
 ing air. Aveline felt its breath as she came softly down 
 the broad stairs, and paused a moment before she drew 
 back the heavy bolt of the front door. She took a long, 
 deep draught of it as she stood on the step without, and 
 lifted her face to the stars. 
 
 " It's almost the last," she said, and there was a catch 
 in her voice. 
 
 Nobody heard her, for there was nobody to hear. The 
 Great House was asleep, all but the solitary maid who 
 had risen earlier than usual to meet the special need of 
 the day, 
 
 Aveline slowly descended the steps, and went by a 
 side path into the park. There was nothing uncertain 
 about her movements, though the light was very faint. 
 She knew every step in the dark almost as well as in the 
 light. When she came out into the open road the dawn 
 had triumphed. The stars were put out of countenance ; 
 they shone faint and weak, as became the vanquished. 
 There was a twitter of birds now, and the first awakening 
 of life. 
 
 Aveline stood still, and turned her face to the growing 
 light. There was just enough of it to show the outline 
 of a house standing among the trees, and a long avenue 
 from the big gates. It was the last time she would see 
 the sun rise over those walls. There was nobody to see
 
 FREE TO SERVE 55 
 
 how long she stood looking towards the house. When 
 she moved on, her step was more hurried. She did not 
 turn in at the gates. That was to come later. Her 
 destination was the village, and the particular spot in 
 the village was the carpenter's dwelling. No need to 
 question whether Joan would be astir. The girl's own 
 heart told her that sleep in John Arkwright's home had 
 been a one-sided affair that night. 
 
 She saw the smoke from the chimney before she 
 reached the cottage, and without knocking she opened 
 the kitchen door and stepped inside. Joan was there. 
 Aveline had been sure she would be. She was standing 
 over the hearth, raking the embers together. She did 
 not turn when the door opened, and Aveline stood a 
 moment looking at the strong, reliable figure, that figure 
 which had formed a part of her life as long as she could 
 remember. 
 
 "Joan," she said, and there was a wistful longing in 
 her voice that overcame Joan's reluctance to expose the 
 tears which reflected the dancing firelight. 
 
 She turned and held out her arms. They closed 
 about the girl, shutting her in and holding her warmly. 
 
 " My child, my little girl ! I can't let you go," she 
 said. 
 
 She heard a stifled sob, and felt a tear drop on her 
 neck. 
 
 " It's not too late," she cried eagerly. "Think better 
 of it, deary. Trust Joan's judgment. I'm older than 
 you, child, and I know I'm right in this." 
 
 She felt the lithe form in her arms quiver as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Leave it all to me," she continued. " I'll tell Sir 
 Julian, and — " 
 
 "No, no," said Aveline, struggling to free herself, and 
 lifting her face from Joan's shoulder to speak the more 
 emphatically. " I did not mean to draw back, and I
 
 56 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 could not if I would. I am going, and I want to go. 
 But — Joan — I feel as if I could not bear it. It seems 
 like leaving Jiim behind." 
 
 Her head went down on Joan's shoulder again. 
 
 " It's all a mistake, a terrible mistake, and the master 
 would be the first to say so," said Joan brokenly. 
 " Trust me, dear, and believe what I say. Did I ever 
 tell you wrong?" 
 
 Aveline made no answer. She was thinking that 
 to-morrow those strong safe arms would not be around 
 her. 
 
 " Joan," she said, " I have never done without you 
 for one day all my life, not even since John stole you 
 away." 
 
 She lifted her head as she spoke. For a moment 
 Joan's face was averted. Then the strong clasp of her 
 arms relaxed. She drew back a step. 
 
 " Miss Aveline," she said, " it's come to the last 
 chance. I haven't wanted to say anything against Mr. 
 Fulke, least of all to you. But, dear, you are doing 
 wrong to trust him," 
 
 "Joan! How dare you?" 
 
 Aveline drew herself up proudly. Not even from 
 Joan could she bear reproach of her brother. 
 
 " Nay, nay, deary ! Don't take it so. I mean no dis- 
 respect to the young master. But he is no great safe- 
 guard for a young maid, and right well I know it." 
 
 "You are unjust to him," said Aveline hotly. 
 
 Joan shook her head. 
 
 " Haven't I known him, as little lad and big one, for 
 eighteen years and more? My child, he means to be 
 true. Mr. Fulke never meant other. But between what 
 he means to be, and what he is, there's all the difference 
 in the world." 
 
 " You do him wrong," said Aveline. " He is tremen- 
 dously in earnest over this. It is the one great chance
 
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 of his life. Surely you would not begrudge it to him 
 — you of all others." 
 
 " If he could have it without risking your happiness, 
 I would say never a word. I'd not grudge the poor 
 lad another chance, even though the money went the 
 way of all the rest," said Joan. " But it's risking yon, 
 and not money." 
 
 " You never believed in him," said Aveline reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 " Alack ! He stands in no need of my believing in 
 him. He believes too fully in himself," said Joan, and 
 relapsed into silence. 
 
 Aveline stood watching her, love and reproachful 
 anger struggling together. Suddenly Joan advanced, 
 and took both the girl's hands between her own. 
 
 " Miss Aveline, let it all go," she said pleadingly. 
 " Let him take the money, poor boy, and try again. 
 But you — stay here, dear. There's Sir Julian loves 
 you so well that his face has grown worried and old 
 for sorrow at your going, and as for the money, while 
 John and me's got health to earn it, you'll not know 
 the need of that." 
 
 " Joan, Joan, there's nobody like you in all the 
 world," said Aveline brokenly, " What shall I do 
 without you to love me and scold me? But, Joan, 
 dear, it is no use. Fulke needs me, needs me as surel}' 
 as he needs the money. Can't you see what an in- 
 centive it will be to him to succeed? He must not 
 fail, he cannot fail, for if he did he would drag me 
 down too. And for all you may say, you bad Joan, 
 he is not wicked enough for that." 
 
 Joan sighed. Her last hope had failed her. She 
 knew now that this girl, who had been to her as daugh- 
 ter and mistress in one, would surely go from her be- 
 fore the day was many hours older. 
 
 The fresh wood upon the fire crackled and blazed up
 
 58 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 sharply, the daylight without brightened. Once John 
 opened the door into the kitchen, but he shut it again 
 with such haste that neither Joan nor Aveline saw him. 
 The good man went out by the front door, and crossed 
 over to his workshop at the back of the yard, where 
 the pile of clean white boards stood awaiting the car- 
 penter's plane. Joan had forgotten all about break- 
 fast. She had no thought for any but the girl who 
 stood with quivering face trying to find courage to say 
 the fatal word that should end the old life. Joan would 
 be at the House to see her off by the stage, but the real 
 good-by must be said now. A broad beam of sun- 
 light fell across the brown bands of Joan's hair. After- 
 wards Aveline always saw Joan thus, her head sun- 
 brightened as it was that morning when she looked 
 down upon it. She drew her forces together for the 
 inevitable moment. 
 
 " Good-by," she said. " Next to my father, you 
 have loved me best." 
 
 When Aveline shut the door behind her, and stepped 
 out into the warm May sunshine, she left Joan standing 
 by the hearth. Just there the carpenter found her a 
 good while later, when thoughts of breakfast had con- 
 strained him to anticipate the summons that should 
 have come from the house. 
 
 " Why, Joan, lass ! Ain't the victuals about ready? " 
 he asked. 
 
 She made him no answer. He went up to her, and 
 laid his hand on her shoulder. 
 
 " Cheer up, old girl. 'Twould have had to come 
 some day," he said. " Miss Aveline's too handsome a 
 lass to be left for the likes of you to coddle. You'd 
 have had to part with her, sooner or later. All the 
 lasses have got to go out of the good wives' care." 
 
 "Go, yes ! But where? Tell me that," broke out 
 Joan. " Do they go to the end of the earth with no
 
 FREE TO SERVE 59 
 
 better protector than a young man so cock-sure of 
 himself that he'll never know he's falling till he's down, 
 and has dragged that child down with him? If Miss 
 Aveline was going away with a good husband, I'd 
 have never a word to say against it, though I should 
 not see her face till she was a woman grown. But to 
 let her go thus ! 'Tis rank folly, as Sir Julian might 
 know." 
 
 That he did not know was not Joan's fault. When 
 she first heard of the project, Joan went to headquarters. 
 She sought Sir Julian himself. 
 
 " You'll mayhap think me but a meddler, sir," she 
 said, " but she's my own little lass, so to speak, and I 
 can't stand by and see her sacrificed without putting in 
 my word." 
 
 "Nay, nay, good Joan," said Sir Julian pleasantly, 
 "we all know your love for Miss Aveline. I doubt not 
 you will feel like a hen robbed of her chicks when the 
 two are gone. But we shall all miss her sorely." 
 
 "Aye, 'twill be wearisome enough without Miss Ave- 
 line," said Joan. " But it's not of that I'm thinking, 
 I'm sore troubled for the child herself. Heaven forbid 
 I should say aught against the lad. He's mine too, as 
 one may say, for he was but a little bit of a boy when 
 my mistress left him in my care. But I daresn't hold 
 my tongue, though it does seem cruel to speak. Sir 
 Julian, he's a nice lad and a pleasant, but did you 
 know him as I do, you would not put this responsibility 
 on his shoulders." 
 
 " Ah," said Sir Julian, " you do not see that this is the 
 very reason we mean to let him go. 'Tis the responsi- 
 bility that will be the making of him. For the lad means 
 well, he surely means well this time." 
 
 " I doubt not that he means well, sir, well enough," 
 said Joan; " but between what Mr. Fulke means to do, 
 and what he does, there's a gap just wide enough to
 
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 swallow up the one that puts confidence in him. Sir 
 Julian, he's not to be trusted with Miss Aveline." 
 
 " Nay, Joan, but these are hard words," said Sir Julian 
 gravely. " The boy has scarcely merited them of you." 
 
 "Woe's me that I have to say them, sir! " said the 
 woman. " 'Tis the first time I've ever said aught against 
 the boy, but there's Miss Aveline's future at stake, and 
 I can't hold my tongue." 
 
 "You are hard on the lad," said Sir Julian. "You 
 look at but one side of his character. He is very sure 
 of himself, I trust he may be right, and you wrong. It 
 may be that you do not quite know him." 
 
 " He does not know himself," said Joan, with a shake 
 of her head. " 'Twas a lesson he could never learn when 
 he was a bit of a child, though it might come in his way 
 a dozen times a day. He'd always believe in himself in 
 spite of all that befell. And he's the same lad still." 
 
 " Well, well, your prophecy is but a doleful one, 
 but it is well known that Miss Aveline is the favoured 
 chick," said Sir Julian. " As for the arrangements, 
 they have been made, and Miss Aveline would be the 
 first to scold both you and me were we to attempt to 
 unmake them." 
 
 And Joan had been forced to leave it so, though her 
 judgment condemned the whole thing. Sir Julian, hav- 
 ing decided in his nephew's favour, allowed nothing to 
 hinder him from giving his full support to the scheme. 
 He had much hope that the added responsibility would 
 prove just the incentive Fulke needed. Moreover, 
 there was another motive, kept well in the background 
 of his consciousness, that yet had its influence in deter- 
 mining the result. Sir Julian had long desired to pos- 
 sess that portion of the ancestral estate which had fallen 
 to the share of his younger brother. Too generous 
 ever to betray the wish while his brother lived, it yet 
 had its effect upon him now, and inclined him to look
 
 FREE TO SERVE 6i 
 
 more favourably upon his nephew's proposal. He gave 
 so handsome a price for the house and grounds that 
 it sent Fulke back to London too much elated to see 
 anything but hope ahead of him. That was a month 
 ago. 
 
 The morning sun mounted high. It wanted less than 
 an hour to the time when the stage was due at Easten- 
 holme. Breakfast had long been waiting at the Great 
 House. Sir Julian had grown anxious, and Lady Betty 
 wrathful, but Aveline did not come. 
 
 " I think I had better go and look for the child. I 
 fear she has lost all account of time," said Sir Julian, at 
 last. 
 
 " Bless the girl ! She's but a little goose at best," 
 replied Lady Betty. " 'Tis some of Joan's nonsense 
 keeping her, mark my words if it's not." 
 
 Sir Julian turned towards the door, 
 
 " There, you may save yourself the trouble," said Lady 
 Betty. " Here comes the foolish maid herself." 
 
 Aveline had indeed lost count of time. Kneeling in 
 her father's study, with her head buried in the chair 
 which even now seemed to hold in itself a personality 
 that was part of her memory of him, the girl put aside 
 the restraints wherewith she had held her grief in check, 
 and allowed the rush of tenderness and sorrow and lone- 
 liness to pass over her. It seemed to her that all the 
 tangible world was slipping away from her. There was 
 a life, undoubtedly, that lay beyond the sea, but it was 
 unreal — shadowy. She was turning her back on life, 
 so far as she knew it. Through and through her thrilled 
 the thought that she was kneeling in that spot, surround- 
 ing herself with the home atmosphere, for the last time. 
 To-morrow — no, to-day — she would be an atom, a bit 
 of humanity without a setting, a human being that had 
 no definite place in the order of things. Suppose Joan 
 was right? And with the thought of Joan's strong shel-
 
 62 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 tering love, an overwhelming longing for that stronger 
 and more tender love which had always been about her 
 like an atmosphere came to the girl. 
 
 " Father, your little girl is afraid," she whispered, and 
 heavy sobs shook her. 
 
 She had no consciousness of time. She did not know 
 that the sun mounted higher and higher, and that the 
 world of Eastenholme had long ago set itself to its morn- 
 ing tasks, It was a very little thing that roused her at 
 last — the twitter of a bird close to the window. She 
 lifted her head and saw how the sun streamed in. Then 
 she stood up with a dazed expression on her face. She 
 moved a step away, came back, and touched the chair 
 tenderly. 
 
 " Good-by," she said, and turned and passed out, 
 walking fast. 
 
 " Did ever anybody see the like? " was Lady Betty's 
 greeting, before ever Sir Julian could speak. " Your 
 face is as white as a sheet, and you are shaking like a 
 leaf. Had you no better sense than to go traipsing 
 abroad these hours, when you should have been prepar- 
 ing for your journey by a right hearty meal? I want 
 no hungry maids to go from my house." 
 
 " And there you will not be disappointed," said Ave- 
 line, trying to smile. " There is but small danger of 
 hunger. I think it would be better not to try breakfast 
 to-day, because then, you see, there would be no last 
 time about it." Her voice faltered a little. 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense! " said Lady Betty. "Sit you 
 down, and eat your breakfast. As for last times, every 
 meal is a last time for its own occasion. Take it as a 
 beginning instead of an end. That's the sensible way 
 to look at life. Each end's but the prelude of a begin- 
 
 ning." 
 
 After all, Aveline was forced to make a pretence of 
 breakfast. It was over quickly. Even Lady Betty dis-
 
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 played no great appetite. There was some relief in 
 getting the meal over. 
 
 "Aveline, child," said Sir Julian, laying one hand on 
 the girl's shoulder, and placing the other under her chin, 
 that he might turn her face up to his, " I don't like to 
 let you go. I'm afraid I've not been wise, after all. If 
 this should not turn out for the best — " 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " interrupted Lady Betty. " A nice 
 start you'd give the child, putting such fancies into her 
 head. Where better could a young maid be than 
 under the protection of her own brother, and what 
 better reward could she have than seeing his life grow 
 into usefulness and prosperity?" 
 
 Sir Julian was looking into the eyes that were swim- 
 ming with tears. 
 
 " Little girl," he said, in a voice that was low and 
 tender, " I don't mean to give up my charge altogether 
 to that youngster. You belong to me still, mind that, 
 and if things should turn out wrong instead of right, 
 your home is here." 
 
 Aveline looked at him gratefully. 
 
 " There it is again," said Lady Betty contemptuously. 
 " Turn out wrong ! What's to make them wrong, un- 
 less, indeed, such ill-omened prophecies bring bad luck 
 with them. In the name of all that's sensible, why 
 shouldn't the boy and girl prosper? Aveline's place 
 is by her brother's side, and if she's half a girl she'll 
 stay there." 
 
 "Lady Betty is right," said Aveline firmly. "Fulke 
 and I will stand by our decision, and by one another. 
 But — it is good to hear you say it, uncle dear." 
 
 He drew her into his arms. 
 
 " My brother's little daughter," he said, " never forget 
 that this is your place." 
 
 He felt the quiver that went through her, and he 
 stooped and kissed her forehead.
 
 64 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " I will never forget, Uncle Julian," she said, " but 
 till we can both come to you as a success, we will 
 neither of us come at all — for Fulke's sake." 
 
 She was thinking of words she had heard her uncle 
 say. He had not meant that she should hear. They 
 were intended for Fulke's ears alone, and were framed 
 accordingly. It was on the day upon which he ac- 
 quainted the young man with his decision, and met 
 his unbounded delight and enthusiasm. 
 
 " I am overjoyed that you see it as I do," said his 
 nephew. " I am convinced that it is as much for my 
 sister's good as for my own." 
 
 " I trust that it may prove so," replied Sir Julian 
 gravely. " Did I not think you would watch over her 
 interests as jealously as your own, I would give a very 
 different answer. Mind you, I place her in your charge, 
 and expect of you that you will fill to her my place. 
 You will have in your hands all that she possesses. 
 Understand that the step you take is a final one. You 
 are in no way to consider yourself at liberty to throw 
 off the obligation, and return your sister to my care. 
 It is your place now to care for her as your father 
 would have done." 
 
 A slight sound, a quickly drawn breath, caused Sir 
 Julian to look round. Aveline stood within the door. 
 As he turned she crossed the room swiftly to her 
 brother's side. 
 
 " Uncle Julian," she said, " Fulke and I will stand or 
 fall together. We will neither of us come back on your 
 hands." 
 
 "Tut, child! " said Sir Julian, trying not to appear 
 disconcerted. " Haven't you wit enough to see that the 
 shirking horse needs the spur? Go you to Lady Betty. 
 Young maids know naught of business, and business 
 alone is my pleasure with this young man now." 
 
 Aveline had done as she was bidden, but she had not
 
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 forgotten either her uncle's words or her own. Fulke's 
 honour was at stake, and to Aveline this meant that her 
 own honour was equally involved. 
 
 Breakfast over, there was nothing to be done but walk 
 to the park gates. 
 
 Aveline's possessions had been sent on before, so that 
 there might be no delay in getting them on board the 
 vessel that was almost ready to sail. Quite a little crowd 
 was waiting at the gates. Not a few of the servants from 
 the Great House had come to see the girl off, and these 
 had been joined by many of the villagers, for Aveline 
 had grown up among them all, and they gathered round 
 her with the familiarity of old friends. 
 
 " Come now, my girl, get the good-byes over, and 
 the tears all shed," said Lady Betty briskly, breaking in 
 on the leave-takings, and the prognostications, cheery 
 and cheerless. " Yonder's a cloud of dust that can be 
 due to naught but the stage, and I've no mind to treat 
 the travellers to a tragedy scene that'll save 'em the ex- 
 pense of going to the play when they reach the city." 
 
 She herself bestowed upon the girl a vigorous kiss. 
 
 "There, there, be a brave maid, and do your duty," 
 she said kindly, "and I'll warrant that you'll be none the 
 worse for the change, and that you'll live to be glad 
 you've taken this step. You've got the stuff in you to 
 make a woman, I'll say that for you, and you're going 
 where it'll be brought out." 
 
 " Don't forget that if you find no warm nest in the new 
 life, there's a safe one in the old," said Sir Julian. 
 
 Joan had no word but a whispered blessing. Regard- 
 less of the onlookers, she put her arms tenderly about 
 the girl for the last time. Her lips were the last to 
 touch Aveline's. Then the girl climbed to the top of 
 the stage-coach, sat up very straight in her seat, and 
 waved her hand to the group by the gates. The driver 
 cracked his whip, the horses started, and the journey to
 
 66 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 America began. Aveline was strangely conscious that 
 she belonged to the old life no more. Even now it was 
 closing up about the place she had occupied. She 
 leant forward, and saw the home group beginning to 
 melt away. 
 
 They had seen the last of her — Aveline Nevard. 
 What was the place that was to welcome her? As they 
 passed the old home Aveline was so absorbed in looking 
 that she started when a gray-haired benevolent-looking 
 man by her side said good-naturedly : 
 
 " Going away to one of them city boarding schools 
 to learn all the latest ways, ain't you, my dear? " 
 
 "No, sir," she said. "I'm going to London to meet 
 my brother. We are to travel together ; " and between 
 trying to answer the old man's questions, and not miss 
 a bit of the dear home scenery, she found enough to do 
 until the limits of old associations were passed. She 
 had not time to think a great deal about the future, for 
 her companion found so much to tell her of the parts 
 through which they passed, that she must needs give 
 him her attention. 
 
 " Faith, and here comes my Lady Gravely in her best 
 coach," he cried, as a backward glance revealed the fact 
 that a big gayly gilded coach-and-six was turning into the 
 highway. " Now for as spirited a race as can be seen 
 in His Majesty's dominion, for, if I'm not at fault, the 
 footman that's running before her to-day is John Speedy 
 himself. The fastest knave in all England, my dear. 
 Watch him well, for if he let us keep our distance ahead 
 of him, I've lost my mark." 
 
 Every head was turned back now to watch the runner, 
 who, in coat and skirt of blue, preceded the six strong 
 horses that drew his lady's coach. The footman's head 
 was raised. He threw himself into better shape. Those 
 backward-turned heads were a challenge to which there 
 could be but one answer from John Speedy. He raised
 
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 his long staff, and waved its silver-balled end towards 
 the driver of his lady's coach. That worthy applied the 
 whip, and the six horses stretched themselves for the 
 race. 
 
 The stage-driver needed no urging to try the effect of 
 a liberal application of his own whip. Up the hill and 
 down again dashed the stage-coach, up the hill and down 
 again came the runner, well ahead of my lady's coach. 
 The passengers shouted and waved their hands. Two- 
 legged locomotion was gaining on four. Slowly the dis- 
 tance between the running footman and the stage 
 lessened, till upon the brow of a hill the runner trium- 
 phantly waved his staff as he passed the leader, and 
 went swinging down the hill, heading the procession. 
 
 " Well done, John Speedy," shouted Aveline's gray- 
 haired neighbour. "What think you of that, my dear? 
 Right well he merits his refreshment," he added, as, the 
 foot of the hill reached, the runner halted, unscrewed 
 the silver ball from the end of his staff, and took a sip 
 of the white wine it contained. 
 
 " Another hour and we reach the city," said Aveline's 
 entertainer, when my lady's coach had given up the 
 race, and the stage-horses had resumed their usual 
 steady swing. " And then, I doubt not, will come your 
 brother's greeting. He will know better than to leave 
 so pretty a face to be viewed by strange eyes." 
 
 " I trust he will be at the inn to meet me," said Ave- 
 line. " He was warned when I should arrive." 
 
 " No fear but he'll be there, or his taste must be of 
 the worst," was the answer. 
 
 But when the coach drew up at the inn, it was a 
 serving-man who scanned the passengers as he asked : 
 
 " Is there here any lady by name of Mistress Aveline 
 Nevard ? " 
 
 " Aye, right there, in full sight of your eyes, and Til 
 wager before a week's past there'll be more than one
 
 68 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 beau that'll be willing to give much for a smile from her 
 lips," said the driver. 
 
 " The mistress bade me lead you straight in," said 
 the man, helping Aveline to the ground. 
 
 She was glad to escape the rough but kindly flattery 
 without, and follow the man into the inn. 
 
 " My brother? Is he here? " she asked. 
 
 "Nay, there's no one here, so far as I have heard," 
 said the man. 
 
 He pushed open a door, and led her into the kitchen. 
 
 " 'Tis the young lady herself," he said. 
 
 The mistress came forward hospitably. 
 
 " Come right in and sit you down in the chimney- 
 corner," she said. " I've a good room ready for you, 
 but you'll be the better for getting your blood well 
 warmed after your long ride. It is chilly these evenings, 
 though we are well past May-day." 
 
 Aveline looked round anxiously. " Is my brother 
 not here?" she asked. 
 
 " Nay, I have seen nothing of him. But never fear, 
 my dear. He'll be here before long, I doubt not. Sit 
 you down and rest. Supper's well-nigh ready," said her 
 hostess. 
 
 Aveline slowly advanced to the fire. The disappoint- 
 ment of not meeting her brother made her feel doubly 
 lonely. Not but that she was sure of welcome and safety. 
 She owed her reception to the fact that the mistress of 
 the inn was own cousin to Lady Betty's housekeeper, and 
 her good offices had been bespoken for Aveline. The 
 kindly woman bustled about, intent on making the girl 
 feel at home. 
 
 " Now then, Benny, don't sit staring at the young lady," 
 she said, giving an admonishing tap upon the head of a 
 tiny boy of three, who sat on a stool in the middle of the 
 hearth, and gazed at the stranger with wide, unblinking 
 eyes.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 69 
 
 It is only fair to admit that Aveline returned the gaze. 
 Those grave unchildish eyes disconcerted her. She sat 
 and studied the child, and the child studied her. She 
 watched the upward curves of the smoke that came as 
 gracefully and naturally from between the baby lips that 
 held the pipe as if the smoker had been a sage of seventy. 
 The baby puffed at the pipe and stared at the visitor, 
 and the visitor alternately watched the smoke and the 
 baby's eyes. In a short time the pipe was empty, and 
 the child gravely rose, carried his stool to a point op- 
 posite the corner of the mantel-shelf, mounted it care- 
 fully, and reached down a knife and a rope of tobacco 
 formed into a roll. With the skill of an adept he pre- 
 pared enough to fill his pipe, pressed it firmly down, and 
 lit it with a chip stuck into the glowing fire. There was 
 a droll gravity about the whole proceeding that brought 
 a smile to Aveline's lips in spite of herself. Her hostess 
 saw the smile. 
 
 "He's a queer one, ain't he?" she said proudly. 
 " You wouldn't think now he warn't three till Midsum- 
 mer-day. But, bless you, there's many a man grown that 
 ain't got his sense." 
 
 " How did he learn to smoke? " asked Aveline, smil- 
 ing still. 
 
 "Blest if I can tell you, miss. Seemed to come nat- 
 ural to him. My man's a great smoker, and that boy 
 ain't never content if he can't have his three pipes at a 
 time. He'd be in a fine takin' if I was to stop him. 
 Bless you, he's done it this year and more. Not but 
 what there's plenty like him for that, but they don't 
 set and smoke as grave as he does, bless his heart. 
 There ain't many like Benny." 
 
 Aveline's last glance as she left the kitchen was at the 
 baby smoker, puffing gravely at his third pipe of tobacco.
 
 70 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 " A NY kitchen stufife, have you, maids ! " 
 
 L\ " Buy a white line, a Jack line, or a cloathe 
 jL Vline!" 
 " Pretty maids, pretty pins, pretty women ! " 
 The London street-cries penetrated to the room 
 where Aveline lay sleeping beyond her usual hour. 
 She started up bewildered. Then, as the sounds from 
 the streets became clearer in her ears, she began to 
 realize that the new life had begun, and to be aware 
 that she felt some interest in it. She was impelled to 
 hasten. Possibly Fulke was already waiting for her 
 below. It was unduly late for a country girl to be in 
 her chamber. But when she found her way down- 
 stairs, the young man was not there. The hearty 
 tones of the master of the inn greeted her. 
 
 " A good morning to you, miss," he said. " If I'm 
 not hugely mistaken, I have here that which will explain 
 why the young gentleman, your brother, did not appear 
 over night. Not but that 'tis a sore shame so comely a 
 lass should have lost an evening's pleasure right in the 
 best part of the season, when the beaux and the great 
 ladies are out in all their bravery. But, truth, there 
 may be a good reason for his non-appearance, as this 
 billet should tell." 
 
 Aveline stretched out her hand eagerly for the letter, 
 which she found short and unsatisfactory. It read : 
 
 " My Dear Sister : I trust you have arrived in safety, 
 and are ready for the voyage. I desired to be with you 
 last night, or at latest to-day, but fate was against me. 
 I would gladly have come to you, but could not. I have
 
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 encountered many hindrances and difficulties. Every- 
 thing is behind, and the ship ready to sail. I am dis- 
 tracted with many cares. Just now I must get your 
 effects on board. The ship weighs anchor before night, 
 and I am all belated. You must manage to come to 
 me, like a sensible girl. Ask the good woman of the 
 inn to accompany you, as I doubt not she will be will- 
 ing to do. Give her the paper inclosed herewith. She 
 will then know where to bring you. I shall be at the 
 river-side at an hour past noon." 
 
 That was all. It did not lessen Aveline's uneasiness, 
 but it made the next step plain. 
 
 "There's nothing wrong, is there, miss?" asked the 
 mistress curiously. 
 
 " I am not sure," said Aveline. " My brother speaks 
 of hindrances that have kept him from coming to me as 
 he intended, but he will meet me by the river-side, at a 
 place he designates, and he bids me ask you to accom- 
 pany me thither." 
 
 " That I will, right willingly," said the good woman. 
 " But 'tis a crying shame you should go off thus. He 
 might at least have allowed you a sight of the pleasures 
 of London life before you turned your back on them for 
 good. I'll wager now you've never so much as seen a 
 play." 
 
 Aveline shook her head. 
 
 " Ah, I thought as much. It's a brave sight, surely, 
 and the play-acting is not the whole of it. To my mind, 
 it's as good as the play itself to see the beaux combing 
 their perukes with their lovely ivory combs, and the 
 ladies, with their pretty faces, watching the graceful 
 movements of the lads. Such handsome combs and 
 elegant comb-cases can be seen nowhere but in London. 
 Of course there's beaux and beaux. There's them that 
 can comb a wig as gracefully as a lady can use her fan, 
 and there's others that can never get the go of it, try as
 
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 they will. Well, well, if you must go aboard ship to-day, 
 you must. But it's a terrible pity." 
 
 The good woman was so determined that Aveline 
 should at least see some of the streets of London, that 
 she forbore to take a hackney coach, insisting that a 
 country girl would find it no great hardship to walk, 
 especially as the distance was not great. Aveline her- 
 self was in haste to meet her brother, but she could not 
 stifle a little girlish curiosity at the strange sights of the 
 city. The grandeur of it all impressed her. Here the 
 very workmen wore wigs and cocked hats. She smiled 
 to herself as she tried to picture worthy John Arkwright 
 in a wig. 
 
 " There, there ! Look where you step ! " cried her 
 companion, as the girl set her foot on a loose flagstone. 
 
 The warning came too late. A jet of inky mud spurted 
 from beneath the stone, and Aveline looked with dismay 
 at her shoes. 
 
 " A beau-trap for certain, and as ugly a one as could 
 be made," said the mistress. " A plague on the chairmen 
 for their meddlesome antics ! " 
 
 Then, as Aveline looked at her inquiringly, she 
 laughed. 
 
 "What? You have never heard of a beau-trap? 
 'Tis a device of those rascals, the chairmen, whereby 
 they may get even with the beaux that are a bit stingy. 
 They do but loosen a stone, that the water may lodge 
 beneath, and then woe to the silk stockings of the unwary 
 beau who, to save the price of a sedan-chair, attempts 
 to use his own prettily covered legs. Right well the 
 trap answers when there comes a smart shower, such as 
 there was last night." 
 
 Arrived at the water-side, Aveline's attention was 
 divided between looking for her brother, and watching 
 the craft that passed up and down the river. Fulke had 
 not yet come, and there was plenty of time to see the
 
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 river traffic, ajnd listen to the rough passages at arms 
 between the ordinary river boatmen and the watermen 
 of the private barges. One of these barges, rowed by- 
 watermen resplendent in livery, was manifestly making 
 for the steps near which Aveline stood. She was watch- 
 ing its approach with interest when a sound caused her 
 to turn, and she saw Fulke coming towards the river. 
 He had not yet noticed her, being engrossed in the 
 attempt to induce a burly porter to transport safely a 
 big box he carried on his shoulder. In the burden Ave- 
 line recognized her own property. A sudden fit of 
 homesick longing seized her, and she left her com- 
 panion's side and ran towards her brother, holding up 
 her face with the innocent expectation of a kiss. 
 
 " Don't, child ! What is the matter? Can't you see 
 that everybody is staring at us?" 
 
 Aveline drew back hastily, and a wave of colour rushed 
 over her face. Involuntarily she turned her head, in 
 time to see the boat in which she had been interested 
 discharging its load. True enough they were staring — 
 men and women both. The undisguised gaze of the 
 ladies' escort might easily have been construed into 
 admiration, for he would have been a strange gallant of 
 the period who could have helped admiring the straight 
 girlish form, and the face — half averted — in which 
 glad recognition and welcome were changing into the 
 flush of wounded affection and awakened pride. For 
 the ladies themselves, no two constructions could be 
 put upon their supercilious smiles. It is easy to crush 
 a possible rival with a show of contempt, and this girl, 
 in dress and mien, looked as if she might yet be found 
 claiming a share of attention in that section of the world 
 wherein their own pleasures lay. Scorn is a weapon 
 safe to handle, and effective for use against the innocent. 
 
 None the less, however, did Aveline imagine that she 
 had made herself ridiculous in the eyes of these worldly-
 
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 wise inhabitants of the metropolis. She dropped back 
 to her old position, feeling very young and inexperi- 
 enced, and, it must be confessed, decidedly angry. 
 Fulke need not have behaved as if he were ashamed of 
 her. People were not in the habit of being ashamed of 
 her. Sir Julian was always proud to have her with him, 
 and Lady Betty — Lady Betty who knew what society 
 was quite as well as did Fulke himself — had said that 
 she had " manners pretty enough for any young gentle- 
 woman." And Fulke had treated her as if she were 
 nothing but an ill-bred hoiden, to be rebuked and re- 
 strained. Underneath the mortification was the sore 
 feeling that this brother of hers did not appreciate as he 
 should the sacrifice she had made for him. Fulke had 
 left Eastenholme overjoyed, making much of her, and 
 predicting all manner of happiness and good for the 
 future as the result of the sacrifice she had made. Now 
 he seemed to have forgotten that it had been a sacrifice 
 at all. 
 
 There is possibly less real pain in giving up the desire 
 of the heart than in the apparently trifling added bitter- 
 ness of seeing the good appropriated by another with 
 no expression of appreciation. 
 
 Fulke had passed the two and gone to the water's 
 edge, where he carefully superintended the placing of 
 the box in a waiting boat. Then he returned to his 
 sister. 
 
 " You are earlier than I expected," he said, with an 
 effort to be unconstrained. " You received my letter? " 
 
 " Yes. I thought you might have come yourself." 
 
 The tone was decidedly aggrieved. 
 
 " I have little doubt you did," said Fulke. " And you 
 thought, mayhap, that to reach the colonies of America 
 there was naught to do but look after your pleasure. 
 For my part, I am spent with anxiety and discourage- 
 ment. I wish I had never entered upon the business."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 75 
 
 From the bottom of his heart Fulke at that moment 
 meant what he said. AveHne looked at him dismayed. 
 She would have spoken, but he stopped her. There was 
 a change in his tone. 
 
 " Have you paid this good woman? " he asked. 
 
 Aveline noticed the anxiety in his face, that lessened 
 as she answered : 
 
 "All but the thanks I owe her for taking such good 
 care of me in your absence." 
 
 " Then it will be unnecessary to keep her here longer," 
 said Fulke, and the mistress of the inn felt herself dis- 
 missed. She turned her head more than once, to see 
 the brother and sister standing near the steps. 
 
 " I doubt me the poor lass is not going to as bright 
 a life as her pretty face deserves," she said. 
 
 When the woman was out of sight, Fulke hurried 
 Aveline towards the boat. 
 
 " There is but another chest to be put aboard now," 
 he said. " The ship weighs anchor before sunset, and 
 there will be plenty to be done getting things stowed 
 away." 
 
 His eyes wandered from the boat to the river as he 
 spoke, never once resting on his sister's face. 
 
 "Make way there! " 
 
 The porter, returning with his second box, rudely 
 pushed Aveline aside, and trudged down the steep steps. 
 
 " All ready now, young mistress," called one of the 
 boatmen, and Fulke extended his hand to help his sister. 
 He felt that hers was cold and still. 
 
 A few minutes later Aveline found herself a part of 
 the river scene, and almost forgot her grievance in wonder 
 at the torrent of abuse and insulting comment which the 
 passage of the small craft brought down upon them. 
 The chief business of each waterman seemed to be that 
 of annoying other watermen and their passengers. Ave- 
 line was not sorry when the dark hull of the vessel for
 
 76 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 which they were making overshadowed them. She 
 cHmbed upon deck and looked curiously around her. 
 Just at this moment curiosity overpowered every other 
 feeling. She wanted to stand and view the vessel from 
 stem to stern, — not a very great proceeding in a ship 
 of four hundred tons burden, — but again Fulke hurried 
 her on. He saw the ship-master approaching, and Ave- 
 line thought he was about to lead her towards him. She 
 took a step forward. 
 
 " Not there ! This is the way to go below," said Fulke, 
 and he held out his hand to assist her. 
 
 "But I don't want to go below," she replied. " I want 
 to see what the ship is like." 
 
 "You don't know what is good for you," said her 
 brother sharply. " Believe me, you had better — " 
 
 But the captain was alongside. 
 
 " So, young sir, you have got aboard," he said, in 
 a tone that was too free for politeness. " Is this the 
 wench? " 
 
 He looked at Aveline in a way that brought the hot 
 colour to her cheeks. 
 
 " You are right. I will go below," she said, turning 
 her back on the offending ship- master. 
 
 "This is my sister," answered the young man coldly, 
 and the two passed on, but not before Aveline had heard 
 the comment : 
 
 " That's a pretty go ! Hang me, \{ she'll find humble 
 pie much to her taste." 
 
 They went down into the big cabin. Just then it was 
 deserted. Aveline turned upon her brother. 
 
 "What did he mean by speaking thus?" she de- 
 manded. 
 
 "He's a brute," said Fulke savagely. "You should 
 have come down when I told you. You must let me 
 judge for you now. Have as little to do with him as pos- 
 sible, and take no notice of anything he says. Whatever
 
 FREE TO SERVE -]■] 
 
 you do, don't let him provoke you into talking with 
 him. You will do as I tell you, won't you?" 
 
 He was looking at her now pleadingly — Aveline 
 thought, fearfully. A sudden terror took possession 
 of her. 
 
 " Fulke," she said, " has he any reason for behaving 
 so? He has no claim on you?" 
 
 " Claim?" said Fulke. " What claim could he have? 
 He will have every penny for what he carries over, trust 
 him for that. But I have had trouble. I told you so. 
 And there have been difficulties with him." 
 
 Then two or three passengers entered, and Fulke 
 hurried his sister to the little cabin that, even now, 
 she was beginning to find a refuge. 
 
 " Stay here awhile," he said. " I must see about the 
 stowing away of the things. You would only meet with 
 rudeness just at present, in the confusion of starting. 
 Later on it will be different." 
 
 Aveline shut and fastened the door, and then forgot 
 to take stock of her surroundings. This was such a 
 different beginning from the one she had expected. 
 She was oppressed with a feeling of danger somewhere 
 — just where she could not tell, only she associated it 
 with the captain's strange greeting. She did not under- 
 stand her brother, and there was at present no oppor- 
 tunity for explanation. She could not tell whether his 
 irritable manner betokened real calamity, or only some 
 temporary difficulty. On one point she was determined. 
 Having cast in her lot with Fulke, she would abide by 
 the consequences. Turn back she could not. 
 
 She had plenty of time to think, for Fulke seemed 
 to have forgotten all about her. She could hear the 
 loud voice of the captain giving orders, and the rhyth- 
 mical shout of the sailors as they hauled in ropes. It 
 was all life and bustle above her head. Below there 
 was no sound to be heard. The sun was getting low;
 
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 so much Aveline could see through the tiny porthole 
 of her cabin. She fell to thinking of Joan, and the 
 quiet evening hour when her father used to put his 
 arm in hers and go out to watch the sunset. And 
 then she felt a tear drop on her hand, and sprang up 
 in alarm. 
 
 " This will not do," she said, and began to examine 
 the small cabin, and even to peer out upon the river. 
 There was not much to be seen in so narrow a field of 
 view, and she sat down again and listened. The com- 
 motion on deck was increasing. Aveline felt sure the 
 ship was about to sail. She cautiously opened her door 
 and looked out. There was no sign of life in this part 
 of the vessel, which seemed doubly lonely by reason of 
 the noise and bustle above. 
 
 The stillness had grown intolerable, and in desperation 
 Aveline made her way on deck, coming up into the sun- 
 light with a sensation of relief. Sailors were flinging 
 down coils of rope, and making ready for sailing. The 
 passengers, some twelve in number, stood about the 
 deck, watching proceedings, and getting very much in 
 the way of the seamen. The ship's cow, in a strong 
 but rudely constructed shelter amidships, looked lazily 
 out on the scene, possibly lamenting the necessity of 
 changing her short season of freedom on the green 
 stretches along shore for her old quarters and rations 
 on the ship's deck. On the other side of the vessel, 
 their backs towards her, stood Fulke and the ship-mas- 
 ter. They were looking out across the water, and talk- 
 ing so earnestly that they had apparently forgotten 
 they were not alone. AveUne could not see her broth- 
 er's face, but by his attitude and gestures she knew 
 that he was urging something upon his companion. 
 She stood and watched them, wondering and anxious. 
 
 " Stand aside there, young mistress, if you would not 
 be caught by yon rope," called a sailor, and a coil of
 
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 rope fell at the girl's feet. She moved to the middle of 
 the deck, standing on a line with Fulke and the captain. 
 The conversation was becoming more animated. Pres- 
 ently the ship-master's voice rose. 
 
 "What care I who she is?" he said. " A bargain's a 
 bargain, as I take it. Yes, and I'll see it's carried out. 
 Mind that, young man." 
 
 It was not Aveline's fault that the words reached her 
 ear. The tone was too loud for secrecy. Of whom was 
 the captain speaking? She forgot everything else in 
 watching the two. She saw her brother lay his hand 
 on the captain's arm. He half turned as he did so, and 
 there was perplexity and something resembling fear in 
 his face. She could not hear his answer, but gradually 
 the ship-master cooled down. The murmur of voices 
 sounded more conciliatory, and Fulke's manner became 
 less agitated. 
 
 " Well, well, let it rest awhile," said the ship-master 
 loudly, and he turned straight about as he spoke. They 
 both saw her at once. 
 
 " My stars ! There she is," said the ship-master, and 
 for the moment neither he nor Fulke seemed to know 
 what to do next. The captain recovered first, and ad- 
 vanced to meet her. " Glad to see you on deck, young 
 mistress," he said civilly. " Better take your last look 
 at London sights. We are going to run out a bit fur- 
 ther before dark." 
 
 " You have grown tired of waiting, and no wonder," 
 said Fulke, coming to her side. " I have been unduly 
 long, but I had much to attend to, and many things to 
 settle with the captain." 
 
 His ill-humour seemed to have vanished, and he 
 stayed by Aveline, making much of her, and pointing 
 out such buildings of the city as could be seen in the 
 distance. 
 
 '* We are to run down further before dark, so as to be
 
 8o FREE TO SERVE 
 
 ready to sail in the morning," he said. " You will have 
 one quiet night close along shore, and to-morrow, 
 before you are astir, we shall begin our journey in 
 earnest." 
 
 " And it is to lead to good things for us, you and me 
 together?" asked the girl, with an undertone of uncer- 
 tainty in the words. 
 
 Her brother turned his head away. He felt that she 
 was trying to look into his eyes. 
 
 "You are a little goose," he said, but his arm stole 
 round her, and they stood thus watching the sun as it 
 dipped behind the trees.
 
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 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ANY one who had known the Fulke of London 
 days, the young beau, and the companion of some 
 of the most reckless youths about town, would 
 have been struck by the change in him, perceptible 
 enough, yet hardly to be described. Aveline felt it, and 
 failed to understand it. To Fulke himself it seemed 
 that a great gulf lay between the youth of a month 
 before and the young man who stood on the outward- 
 bound vessel, and took his last look at the city he 
 accused of treating him ill. The weeks that had inter- 
 vened since he left Eastenholme had shown him a little 
 more than he had expected to know of the shady side 
 of life. For, in spite of Molly's good offices, Fulke had 
 seen the inside of a debtor's prison. 
 
 He returned to London with Aveline's fortune in his 
 possession, and hope enough in his heart to freight 
 a fair-sized vessel. His prospective partner, Roger 
 Bennet, was found at Lloyd's coffee-house, and the two 
 at once entered into arrangements. Fulke paid the 
 debt which had proved threatening, and after estimating 
 as closely as possible his further liabilities, and putting 
 aside enough to pay his own and Aveline's passage, and 
 leave him something in hand when he reached the new 
 world, he expended the rest in Indian stores, buying 
 under the personal direction of Roger Bennet. The 
 trader was in haste to return to America, and when he 
 had himself spent much more money than Fulke had 
 at his disposal, he left the young man to superintend 
 the stowing of the cargo on board the " Bullfinch," the 
 vessel upon which Fulke was to sail. For himself, he
 
 82 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 had an opportunity to start earlier, and he satisfied him- 
 self with seeing the master of the " Bullfinch," who was 
 an old acquaintance, and instructing him to look after 
 this joint stock of merchandise, and to land it safely at 
 the American port. 
 
 All went well until Bennet left London, and then the 
 tide turned. Fulke had not overestimated Wyville's 
 animosity, but he had underestimated the far-reaching 
 effect of his cunning. Every step which the young man 
 had taken had been carefully watched by Wyville's 
 emissaries, who knew the exact amount of money he 
 had spent, and where it had all gone. It was Wyville's 
 aim not to alarm his victim until the right moment, and 
 he was careful at first to present no claim, and to put 
 no obstacle in the young man's way. It was not until 
 he judged that his former companion's resources were 
 nearly exhausted that he took steps to recover the 
 amount owing to him. He made it so much more than 
 Fulke had estimated that the debtor looked at the claim 
 with horrified surprise. To pay it would be to leave 
 himself almost penniless. 
 
 Fulke was sure the amount was over-large, and he 
 made the unfortunate mistake of disputing it. This ran 
 the expenses up considerably, and when judgment went 
 against him he had to choose between a debtor's prison 
 and the giving up of the money that was to have paid 
 for the journey to America. He chose the prison, hop- 
 ing that the largeness of the sum at stake would bring 
 Wyville to terms. 
 
 Again he found that he was wrong in his reckoning. 
 Money was a small consideration to Wyville by the side 
 of this opportunity to be revenged on the youth who 
 had dared to oppose his will. To every offer of com- 
 promise he returned the same answer — he could afford 
 to wait for his money, and although the amount of his 
 claim, to less than a penny, should be forthcoming, yet
 
 FREE TO SERVE 83 
 
 for the shortage of a single farthing he would leave the 
 debtor to his fate for an indefinite period. 
 
 It did not take long for Fulke to grow desperate. In 
 ten days the " Bullfinch " was to sail. The greater part of 
 the cargo was on board. For reasons connected with 
 the trade laws of the Province of New York, the con- 
 signment had been made in the joint name of his part- 
 ner and himself. He had no power to remove any of 
 the goods. Go to America when the " Bullfinch " sailed 
 they must and would, and when there they would be lost 
 to him. Aveline's fortune was in that cargo, the loss of 
 which would leave his sister destitute, and put him in the 
 position of a thief To remain in prison was to lose all ; 
 to pay this debt was to leave himself helpless. As far as 
 reaching America was concerned, he might as well be 
 inside the prison walls as outside. He might have ap- 
 pealed to Sir Julian, but this he could not bring himself 
 to do while the memory of his uncle's parting words 
 was fresh. 
 
 Every day that he hesitated brought fresh expenses. 
 If this went on much longer he would not have enough 
 money left to secure his release, and Aveline's sacrifice 
 would be altogether in vain. He grew desperate, going 
 the round of possibilities, which all seemed equally im- 
 possible. 
 
 At last desperation forced him into action. He deter- 
 mined to end the struggle somehow. He swallowed his 
 pride and wrote an earnest appeal to Wyville. He 
 apologized for his hasty interference. He even conde- 
 scended to explain how matters stood with him, and to 
 beg, for his sister's sake, that his former friend would 
 agree to take part of the money at once, and leave the 
 rest till he could send it to him from America. The 
 young man persuaded himself that Wyville's anger must 
 surely be appeased by so humble an appeal. He refused 
 to take into account the implacable hatred that had fol-
 
 84 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 lowed him thus far. It would be different now that 
 Wyville's pride had received the healing balm of such 
 abject apology. 
 
 But when he had dispatched the missive by the hand 
 of a special messenger, he began to lose his grip of 
 the hope which had led him on. He tried to sit still 
 and wait for the answer, but the impatience within him 
 drove him to pace up and down, a helpless victim of 
 his own eagerness and fears. He found himself at 
 one moment watching for the return of the messenger, 
 and the next cursing his own folly in ever supposing 
 that Wyville could be won by an appeal to his com- 
 passion. 
 
 There had been more than sufficient time for the 
 answer to reach him, and still the messenger did not 
 appear. Fulke kept a sharp lookout for his approach, 
 but the hours went by, marked only by the sinking of 
 heart that came with each additional one. He would 
 have given much, now that it was too late, to have had 
 the letter back in his possession. His face grew hot and 
 damp as he imagined that epistle handed round in the 
 circle of which he had often been a member, and allowed 
 fancy to supply the shouts and guffaws over the more 
 touching paragraphs. 
 
 He was ready for any bad news when, at last, the 
 messenger came. It was significant that he carried no 
 letter, nor scrap of paper of any kind. 
 
 " What ! Have you brought me no answer? " asked 
 the young man, struggling hard to keep the ring of 
 anxiety out of his voice, and speaking gruffly that he 
 might at least hide the terrible pressure of his need. 
 
 " Not I," said the man, with a chuckle of amusement 
 at the remembrance of his experiences. " None but a 
 fool would have expected answer from him. Not but 
 that he was long enough in dallying with his message ; 
 though, for the matter of that, I cared not how long,
 
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 since I was to be paid for my time, and there was fun 
 enough to be had." 
 
 "What kept you then, fellow?" demanded Fulke, 
 though he had scarce heart enough to keep up the 
 appearance of boldness. 
 
 "What kept me?" answered the man insolently. 
 " What but the will of young Mr. Wyville himself ? He 
 had me up in his room as civil as you please, and there 
 was a round half-dozen of his stamp a-drinkin' chocolate 
 there, and if that letter didn't give 'em sport, I've lost 
 my mark. There warn't one o' the bunch as hadn't to 
 see it with his own eyes, and when they'd all had a turn, 
 one of 'em read it out loud, and struck a attitude as if 
 he was prayin' for mercy, and they all roared like a 
 good un. Blest if I could help laughin' myself. Make 
 a corpse laugh, that letter would, when one o' them 
 beaux read it." 
 
 The hot blood dyed Fulke's face, and then receded, 
 and left it white and drawn. 
 
 " Stop that, you scoundrel, and tell me what Wyville 
 said," he cried, in a voice hoarse with passion. 
 
 " What he said ? Why, he swore a great oath that he 
 was well satisfied with what he'd done for a beginnin', 
 and that the end should be worthy of the start, and if 
 ever you got out of this hole alive, it'd be because he 
 hadn't another card to play." 
 
 Fulke paid the messenger, and kicked him out of the 
 door; then, his brain in a whirl of passion and despair, 
 he settled Wyville's claim, and walked forth that very 
 night, the possessor of freedom and an almost empty 
 pocket. 
 
 Passion had too much the mastery to allow of his form- 
 ing any definite plan, but inaction being in his present 
 mood an impossibility, he made his way to the Thames, 
 and went to see how things were getting on aboard the 
 " Bullfinch." For more than an hour he remained in
 
 86 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 close conversation with the captain, and when he re- 
 turned to land it had become possible for him to sail in 
 the " Bullfinch." The cloud had not, however, lifted 
 from his brow, and the tight pressure of his lips hardly 
 spoke of a satisfactory emergence from his difficulties. 
 That night he wrote to Aveline, bidding her join him at 
 once. 
 
 Standing on deck this evening he told her of the 
 worries he had encountered, but he did not tell her that 
 when the last debt was paid there had been no money 
 to pay for the passage, and he said nothing of that visit 
 to the master of the " Bullfinch," and its result. He 
 owned that he could not fully meet the captain's claim 
 until he reached America, and warned his sister not to 
 take too much notice of any lapse of courtesy on the 
 part of that worthy. 
 
 " There is nothing for it but patience," he said. 
 " You have been such a good little sister thus far. 
 You will not fail me now?" 
 
 Aveline would not have been herself if she had not 
 been appeased, and had not indulged in a few dreams 
 that night in her tiny cabin, visions in which Fulke, 
 strong in virtue and happiness, and respected in the 
 far-off American colonies, was seen attributing all his 
 success to his sister's efforts. A thorough woman's 
 dream, and as likely to become a reality as the ma- 
 jority of such visions.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 2>7 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 " y'~^ OOD morning to you, young mistress. You 
 ■ -—-make a first-rate sailor." 
 
 V^^ The sun, starting up as if from the depths of 
 the sea, had barely succeeded in lifting the rim of his 
 disc clear of the water. The morning breeze blew fresh 
 in Aveline's face. There was a smile on her lips, and a 
 wistful look in her eyes. She had just been telling her- 
 self that the red ball was rising over Joan's cottage and 
 the Great House, and the long reach of wave-broken sea 
 between her and the horizon seemed very wide when she 
 remembered that it separated her from home. For four 
 days there had been nothing visible but sea and sky. 
 After the long trip down the coast, with land never far 
 distant, and the line of shore giving a sense of nearness 
 to the old life, this great unmanageable ocean seemed 
 lonely. It was sad, too, but that was towards night, 
 when the darkness gained on the light, and the sound 
 of the waves changed from a song to a lament. It was 
 morning now, and the sea was bright and glad. 
 
 The recognition Aveline gave the master of the " Bull- 
 finch " was a cordial one. Since the first day she had 
 had no fault to find with his demeanour towards her. 
 She had seen much of him, for from the beginning he 
 had manifested a desire to cultivate her acquaintance. 
 The passengers on the " Bullfinch" were few — two or 
 three new settlers going with their wives to one or 
 other of the American provinces, and half a dozen re- 
 turning traders and residents. The ship-master found 
 most to study in his youngest passenger. He was look- 
 ing at her now with approbation. 
 
 " The sea has been good to me, or I might possibly
 
 88 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 have shown you how poor a sailor I should turn out," 
 she said. 
 
 " Aye, it's been fine sailing weather, good for young 
 lambs and lasses," was the answer. 
 
 Aveline laughed. 
 
 " The lambs little know the fate that is ahead of them," 
 she said. 
 
 " True," he replied, and his sharp eyes scanned her 
 face. "Do the lasses know much more, think you?" 
 
 They paced the deck together, stopping at the spot 
 that had always held the greatest attraction for Aveline. 
 Here she came every morning to visit her friends. It 
 was a regular farmyard on shipboard. The ship's 
 long-boat lay firmly lashed amidships, turned from its 
 original purpose into a big pen, in the lower part of 
 which sheep and pigs, in full domestication, attended to 
 their family arrangements, while ducks and geese made 
 their voices heard above, and over all the common barn- 
 yard fowls cackled and crowed and fussed, in happy 
 ignorance of the fact that the majority of them would 
 never see land again. Aveline had her especial pets 
 among each, and many a bribe, in the shape of bread 
 or vegetable, did she bring to win their affections. 
 
 First of all she must pay her respects to the ship's cow, 
 a good motherly animal, with no gadding propensities, 
 whose home was in close proximity to the long-boat. 
 She was waiting for her share of favour, her moist nose 
 already thrust out to meet the girl's hand. 
 
 " Do you happen to know anything about milkin' one 
 o' them critters, and showin' yourself useful in the butter- 
 makin'? " asked the captain. 
 
 Aveline laughed. 
 
 •' Enough to superintend the maids, if need were," she 
 said ; " but for the actual milkin.;; and churning I should 
 not like to answer." 
 
 He stood looking at her.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 89 
 
 " You ain't a-goin' to be noways at your ease as a 
 servin'-maid ? " he said, and there was interrogation in his 
 tone. 
 
 Aveline looked up, wondering to what he could refer. 
 
 " Ah, I thought as much," he added, and walked off 
 to the wheel, muttering to himself as he went. The 
 quartermaster heard him say: "Bless the girl, she's as 
 innocent as a babe ! " But the next moment the captain 
 was rating him for turning the ship's glass before the 
 last of the sand had run out, and he had no time to con- 
 jecture what the words might mean. 
 
 Time passed slowly on the " Bullfinch." There were 
 days when the wind died down and the sails hung life- 
 less, and the seamen scanned the horizon and whistled 
 for a breeze ; and there were days when the wind 
 blustered throug*h the rigging, and set the sailors to 
 shortening sail, while it boasted of the storm it could raise 
 if it chose. But it did not choose. Six weeks it had 
 had to carry out its threat, and the promised gale had 
 not come. Now the prospect of reaching land was 
 nearer than the prospect of foul weather. 
 
 Everybody on board the "Bullfinch" was in the best 
 of spirits — everybody but Fulke. It was six weeks since 
 he had that little talk with the captain on the day the 
 "Bullfinch" sailed. He had very little to say to the 
 ship-master now. It might even have been imagined 
 that he shunned him. 
 
 The captain's eyes twinkled now and again when the 
 young man suddenly abandoned some good lounging 
 place on his own approach. 
 
 "So that's the game, is it?" he said to himself, and 
 kept his eye on his passenger. 
 
 Fulke was very much with his sister in those days, 
 studying her comfort, and doing his best to make the 
 long voyage pleasant to her. More than once Aveline 
 looked up suddenly to find him watching her with a
 
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 troubled, uncertain expression, but the moment she 
 spoke his mood would change, and every trace of 
 uneasiness vanish. As they drew near the other shore 
 she fancied he intentionally kept her out of the captain's 
 way. She was sure that he himself avoided the ship- 
 master, and that the ship-master was aware of the fact. 
 
 He was both aware of it, and ill-pleased with it. More 
 than once he directly threw himself in Fulke's way, and 
 watched the effect of the move. Nothing further than 
 a little insight into character resulted, but possibly it 
 was just this that the ship-master sought. 
 
 He seemed to have decided at last that he had carried 
 his investigations far enough, for one afternoon, when 
 the deck was unusually free from passengers, and Fulke 
 was walking slowly towards his sister, he planted him- 
 self straight in the young man's path. 
 
 " How now, young sir? Isn't it time you and me had 
 a talk together? " he said. 
 
 Fulke stopped short, but he glanced towards his 
 sister as if he would have made her an excuse for pro- 
 ceeding. 
 
 "There ain't no manner of use puttin' it off longer," 
 said the master of the " Bullfinch." " If all goes well 
 there won't be but two days before we're in the port of 
 New York." 
 
 " So much the better," was the answer. " Then 
 there'll be no need of talk." 
 
 " Look here, young man," said the captain, " this 
 'ere's gone far enough. I ain't a-goin' to let things rest 
 like that — not if I know it. You're cither after tryin' 
 to spring this thing on her, or else on me, and you ain't 
 a-goin' to do neither." 
 
 He closely watched the effect of his words, and was 
 not at all surprised to see that beneath the dull red flush 
 of anger on the young man's face there were unmistak- 
 able signs of fear.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 91 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" demanded Fulke, 
 " You know you cannot have your money until we reach 
 New York, I can do nothing different from that if we 
 talk for a month." 
 
 " Yes, you can. You can act honest. That's what 
 you can do. It's nothin' better than actin' the knave 
 to keep that lass in the dark the way you're doin'." 
 
 Fulke winced at the plain words. 
 
 " You are meddling with what does not concern you," 
 he began, but the ship-master cut him short. 
 
 " Don't concern me, don't it? I should like to know 
 who it does concern then. You didn't ask me to wait 
 and let things rest a bit till you could explain it all to 
 the girl, did you ? Well, I've waited. Nobody can say 
 I ever said a word to the young maid, though the inno- 
 cent way she's took things has made me feel like a 
 Judas, by times. 'Pears to me there's them that hasn't 
 got neither conscience nor feelin', but be that as it may, 
 I can't stand it no longer. I ain't a-goin' to be a party 
 to lettin' it be sprung on her all at once, when she goes 
 to set foot on shore, and I ain't a-goin' to risk my money. 
 There, make what you can o' that." 
 
 ** There is no question of losing money," said Fulke, 
 talking fast to hide his annoyance. " You have but to 
 hold your tongue until we get into port, and then your 
 money will be forthcoming. As for my concerns, they 
 are my own, not yours." 
 
 "And if the money shouldn't be forthcomin' ? " 
 
 " There is no ' if about it. It will be." 
 
 " Supposin' it ain't?" 
 
 " Then you have the remedy in your own hands." 
 
 " In other words, you will carry out your agreement? " 
 
 " Yes — I must." There was the irritability of weak- 
 ness in his tone, 
 
 " Just so. And you're a-goin' to take the chance, 
 and never let her know beforehand — leave me the job
 
 92 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 of stoppin' her when she starts to go off the ship. No, 
 young feller. You don't come that game, neither on me 
 nor her, so I tell you." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" demanded Fulke, 
 turning squarely upon him. 
 
 "That if you don't tell the lass, I will." 
 
 Fulke's hand sought the hilt of his sword. There was 
 the light of passion in his eyes. 
 
 " Hold there ! " cried the captain. " I'm king on this 
 vessel, and rebellion ain't likely to be a healthy kind of 
 pastime — not for the rebel. You try any of them 
 games, and I'll make short work with you." 
 
 He drew nearer to the young man as he spoke. 
 
 " You shall pay for this," said Fulke savagely, " if not 
 on this vessel, then on shore." 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," replied the other, with a sneer. 
 " The payin's like to be .on the other side, and unless 
 I've lost my mark, it's goin' to prove too much for you, 
 as yonder poor girl will find to her cost." 
 
 Fulke glared at him furiously. 
 
 " You talk mighty innocent," he said, " altogether too 
 innocent for the instigator of the whole affair. Who but 
 you suggested the alternative? " 
 
 " Aye, I did. But did I suggest the knavery along- 
 side of it? " asked the captain. " Did I know what kind 
 of a wench was in question? You came to me in a 
 quandary, and I did but inform you of a method taken 
 many a time before by those who would reach the colo- 
 nies. You pleased yourself about takin' up with it. But 
 I tell you this, you'd never have had the chance if I'd 
 known you wasn't man enough to face the situation." 
 
 " I'm ready enough to face it the moment it is neces- 
 sary," said Fulke. " At present it is not, and I won't 
 annoy my sister for nothing." 
 
 "You won't, won't you? Then that makes it plain 
 sailin' for me. There's nothin' left but to put an end to
 
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 this business once for all," said the captain, and with a 
 few quick strides he was at Aveline's side. 
 
 She was standing before the ship's long-boat, feeding 
 her pets with tid-bits. The long-boat was almost empty- 
 now. Its cargo of live sheep and pigs and poultry was 
 sadly diminished. One by one Aveline's favourites had 
 disappeared, going the way of the cook's galley. Now 
 only the ship's cow and a solitary ewe and lamb remained 
 on the level of the deck, and the hens that cackled above 
 owed their immunity solely to their egg-laying proclivi- 
 ties. The soft eyes of the cow followed the girl's move- 
 ments with an intent eagerness, jealous lest any dainty 
 morsel should find its way to the equally expectant lamb. 
 The ship-master was angry, but it was noticeable that 
 his face softened as he looked at the group. 
 
 "Them critters are in luck," he said. "The cow'll 
 miss you sore when yon land's reached." 
 
 Avelinc looked round with a smile. 
 
 " I shall be almost sorry to go ashore," she answered. 
 " Only the touch of the firm earth will be good. I 
 fairly long for the smell of the trees and fields." 
 
 " Poor lass ! Poor little lass ! " he said, and the 
 answer seemed to Aveline strangely irrelevant 
 
 She turned from the long-boat, and saw her brother 
 standing in the rear of the captain. The expression on 
 his face struck her with a sudden terror. She looked 
 from one to the other. 
 
 " My lass, this 'ere young spark's a-shirkin' his duty, 
 and I ain't a-goin' to stand by and see it," the captain 
 said bluntly. " If I'd a-known before we started what 
 kind o' stuff you and him was made of, I'd never a-made 
 the bargain. But a bargain's a bargain, ain't it? " 
 
 " Surely," said Aveline. " And unless I am much 
 mistaken, you will find my brother as ready to agree 
 to that as yourself." 
 
 She drew herself up proudly, and stood facing him.
 
 94 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " You've got some pluck, my girl, blest if you 
 haven't" said the ship-master admiringly. " It's a pity, 
 a sore pity, that's what it is, and I take it there's shame 
 as well as pity somewhere," 
 
 He jerked his thumb significantly over his shoulder 
 as he spoke. 
 
 "I can't anyhow forgive myself that I ever had a 
 hand in consignin' such a lass as you to bondage, 
 though it was no business o' mine," he said. 
 
 "Bondage?" 
 
 Aveline spoke the word inquiringly. She did not 
 understand what it signified in the present case, but 
 her lips grew white. 
 
 " Aye, bondage ! For there's nothin' else ahead of you, 
 though he's tryin' to deceive you into thinkin' there is." 
 
 "Well, you've said your say. Now have you done? " 
 interrupted Fulke, in a voice low and hoarse. " My 
 sister is not unwarned. She will know how to judge of 
 such words as these." 
 
 " Done? No, young man, I've not done, and I shan't 
 be done, not until the maid understands the danger 
 that's threatenin' her. And that she don't do yet." 
 
 " Truly I do not understand," said Aveline slowly. 
 
 " I'll warrant you don't," said the ship-master. " Little 
 he's ever warned you, I'll be bound," — there was an- 
 other jerk of the thumb, — "that when you set foot 
 on yonder shore you'll be a free woman no longer. 
 Maybe you've heard of a bond-servant?" 
 
 She looked at him with wide-open, horrified eyes, but 
 she did not answer. Even now she did not understand. 
 She appealed straight to her brother. 
 
 " Fulke, is this true?" 
 
 Her voice was lower than his had been, but there was 
 in it something that compelled answer. 
 
 " No. It shall not be true." 
 
 She looked into his face. His eyes refused to meet
 
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 hers. If he had said " Yes," it would not as surely have 
 driven home the conviction of his treachery. It was 
 this, rather than the thought of danger to herself, that 
 made her voice shake and her eye fall. She could not 
 realize the whole of the catastrophe at once. 
 
 " I do not know what it all means," she said ; and 
 there was pitiful bewilderment in her tone. " There 
 must have been some misunderstanding." 
 
 " Aye, that there has — misunderstanding enough," 
 said the captain. 
 
 " And lies and misrepresentation enough," broke in 
 Fulke, coming at last to his sister's side. 
 
 "Lies, are they?" shouted the ship-master, losing 
 control of himself. " And I suppose that paper you 
 signed before you ever set foot on the * Bullfinch ' as a 
 passenger was a lie too, and you didn't covenant to 
 secure the passage money to me by givin' me the power 
 to sell, if necessary, a certain wench, by name Aveline 
 Nevard, as a bond-servant in the colony of New York? 
 You don't know nothin' about any such agreement, eh, 
 young man? " 
 
 For answer Fulke lifted his clinched hand, but before 
 he could strike, Aveline was in front of him. 
 
 " Stop ! " she cried. " This is no way to settle such 
 a matter." Then her eyes turned to the captain, and 
 she said : " Sir, I know not what there is beneath this 
 recrimination. I must talk with my brother. Rest 
 assured that I will in no way be party to defrauding you 
 of a penny that is your due." 
 
 She turned from him haughtily. 
 
 " Fulke, come ! " she said. 
 
 She put her hand on his arm, and he was constrained 
 to walk with her to the end of the deck. She had seen 
 what, in his passion, he had not noticed — the approach 
 of half a dozen passengers, attracted by the ship-master's 
 loud tones and the young man's belligerent attitude.
 
 96 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 A quarrel on shipboard was a diversion rare enough to 
 present an attraction altogether its own. 
 
 Fulke would have broken away from her, but she 
 stopped him imperatively. 
 
 " Don't leave me," she said. " We will go below in 
 a few minutes." 
 
 She stopped to exchange a word with one of the sail- 
 ors, and the clear, proud ring of her voice was borne 
 upon the wind to where the ship-master still stood look- 
 ing after the two. 
 
 " She's a spirited one, that she is, " he muttered. 
 " But she's got to come down. That young jacka- 
 napes is bound to lay her pride in the dust." 
 
 The ship-master was doggedly obtuse and uncommu- 
 nicative beneath the questioning of the new-comers, 
 and they were under the necessity of watching devel- 
 opments for themselves. All the conclusion they ar- 
 rived at was that Fulke's face was red with anger, and 
 his sister's whiter than usual. Before they could carry 
 their observations further, the two disappeared down 
 the steep stairs to the big cabin. Not that this was 
 their destination. Aveline passed through it with her 
 head held high, and her step firm, and Fulke was obliged 
 to follow her. She went on to her own cabin, and shut 
 and fastened the door. Then she turned and faced her 
 brother. 
 
 " Now! " she said, and stood looking at him. 
 
 " You are distressing yourself for nothing," he said 
 eagerly, " I would have saved you all this, but for that 
 meddlesome fool," 
 
 " Yet there was truth in what he said? " 
 
 She spoke quietly, 
 
 " Truth? Yes, Of a sort. But not what he would 
 have you believe." 
 
 " And this paper of which he spoke ? Is it a fiction ? " 
 
 He did not answer. In that moment the ship-mas-
 
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 ter's words, heard but not comprehended, stood out, 
 and took hold of Aveline's consciousness : " When 
 you set foot on yonder shore, you'll be a free woman 
 no longer." They seemed to be beating against her 
 brain with a force that was irresistible. For the first 
 time fear for herself, terror at the possibilities of the 
 future, took possession of her. The silence of the 
 little cabin pressed in upon her. What was in store 
 for her when she left its shelter? 
 
 " Why do you not answer? " 
 
 Fulke had never heard her speak thus ; he had never 
 seen her just as she was now. 
 
 " Because I despair of making you understand. I did 
 give him the paper. There was nothing else to be 
 done. But — I never meant it to come into effect. It 
 never shall come into effect." 
 
 " In other words, you meant to cheat him through 
 me." 
 
 ** Nonsense ! You don't understand. You might have 
 some pity for the strait I was in." 
 
 " I thought, until now, that you might have had some 
 pity for me." 
 
 Her voice was hard and cold. 
 
 "Aveline, be reasonable," he said. " What could I do ? 
 If I did not sail in the ' Bullfinch,' everything was lost. 
 It was your money I was losing — " 
 
 " I wonder you should remember that," interrupted 
 Aveline. 
 
 " And my own honour was at stake." 
 
 " It is not at stake now," was the quiet reply. 
 
 ** I saw no way out. The ship-master suggested that 
 one of us should agree to be security for his money. It 
 was only a form. It will never be carried out. As soon 
 as we reach the port of New York I shall look up Ben- 
 net, and get from him the sum I need. He has ample 
 security in the cargo, which is in his name and mine
 
 98 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 combined. All there is in it is the annoyance of your 
 having to remain on the vessel as a pledge. I grant 
 you that it is an annoyance — now. But if I had had my 
 way, you would not even have known why you stayed." 
 
 " You were considerate — very," said Aveline. " And 
 what was the hindrance to the carrying out of so well- 
 formed a plan? " 
 
 " Nothing but an absurd quibble on the part of the 
 captain. He chooses to think that Bennet will not be 
 at the port, and that his money will not be safe." 
 
 " And if he should not be there? " 
 
 " He %vill be there. Why not? " 
 
 " Does his trading lie in the port of New York ? " asked 
 Aveline, with a sinking of heart at the thought of what 
 it would mean to her if it did not. 
 
 "No — that is, I am not certain. Aveline, don't be 
 foolish. If he be not there, I will find him. Trust me 
 this once." 
 
 He took both her hands in his. They rested passive in 
 his grasp. There was no answering movement, though 
 his pressure was painful in its intensity. 
 
 " If you should not find him, the agreement will have 
 to be carried out? " 
 
 Aveline was looking into his eyes with a gaze too pene- 
 trating for his specious arguments. It pierced through 
 them all, 
 
 " Aveline, forgive me," he said. " I promise you it 
 shall never come to that." 
 
 She turned away from him, drawing her hands forcibly 
 from his grasp. 
 
 " Go away now," she said. "I — must have time to 
 face it."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 99 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 FULKE turned at the door and looked back, half 
 hoping Aveline would recall him, but she made 
 no sign. She stood just where he left her, not 
 stirring even when she heard his footsteps dying away. 
 She was stunned by the greatness of the calamity. She 
 had staked everything on Fulke's honour — and lost. 
 She had been so sure that her sacrifice could result in 
 nothing less than the bringing out of all that was best 
 in him, that the outcome seemed to her incredible. 
 There had been nothing to prepare her for it, though, 
 looking back now, she remembered words that had 
 awakened a vague uneasiness, a sense of insecurity. It 
 was strange how they had failed to give her any real 
 premonition of danger. 
 
 She had trusted her brother as none of the others had 
 trusted him. Sir Julian had been wiser. From the first 
 he had doubted the wisdom of her decision. 
 
 A new pang came to her with the thought of Sir 
 Julian. To prove to her uncle that Fulke was made of 
 nobler stufT than his clear-seeing eyes had discerned, 
 had been one of the joys set before her, and the thought 
 of the quiet, incisive tones that would call Fulke's action 
 by its true name, and yet leave no excuse for quarrel- 
 ling with the term, made the failure look doubly dark. 
 To know that everybody would blame him, and not be 
 able to challenge the condemnation as unjust, was a 
 bitter ending to her dream. She had been very sure 
 they were unfair to him — Sir Julian and Joan, both. 
 Back to the girl's memory came Joan's warning, uttered 
 that last morning at Eastenholme. After all, she had
 
 100 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 known Fulke better than his sister had done. Joan had 
 spoken truly — she had done wrong to trust him. 
 
 " Joan ! Joan ! If I had only believed you ! " 
 
 The words did not pass her lips, but in her heart they 
 were a bitter cry. A longing for human comfort, foj 
 the touch of loving arms, came with the thought of 
 Joan, and following close upon it the consciousness how 
 utterly she was alone. Fulke no longer counted. The 
 terror of the future hemmed her in. She could not 
 realize the evil, she did not know enough about it to 
 picture it, but she shrank from it with the shrinking of 
 a child that fears the darkness which it is yet obliged 
 to enter. She felt that the future was even now over- 
 shadowing her, and she retreated a step, as though the 
 walls of her cabin could keep it off. She could hear the 
 wind whistling among the sails of the vessel, and was 
 conscious that every puff was bringing the future nearer. 
 She remembered how the ship-master had rubbed his 
 hands that morning, satisfied that the breezes were to-day 
 all in his favour. She found herself wondering what 
 likelihood there was of a change of wind. Unfavour- 
 able weather might put off the inevitable. 
 
 America had suddenly become a great unknown deso- 
 lation, filled with terrible possibilities. She had never 
 thought of it so before. It had been to her a place 
 where she and Fulke were to seek for fortune, and to 
 gain — or at least Fulke was to gain — the stronger 
 character that should make him a power in the world. 
 As it came nearer she had found herself taking an in- 
 terest in it, such an interest as had not seemed possible 
 when she left Eastenholme. Now more than the first 
 loneliness and desolation had returned. That was grief 
 over loss of good, this was dread of on-coming, pressing 
 evil. 
 
 Gradually the evil assumed more definite shape, grow- 
 ing into something she could grasp. A serving-maid !
 
 FREE TO SERVE loi 
 
 The captain had spoken of it once — spoken of it in con- 
 nection with herself. She had wondered what strange 
 idea was in his mind. It did not seem less strange now 
 that it had become something more than an idea. She 
 thought of the maids at home, under Lady Betty's firm 
 rule. A serving-maid in the colonies would doubtless 
 lead a different life. 
 
 From that other term she shrank, refusing at first to 
 give it place. It was a horror kept in the background 
 of her consciousness, yet it never retreated beyond the 
 pale of consciousness, and little by little it edged its way 
 forward, till it claimed recognition. Once to the front, 
 it stayed there, refusing to be thrust aside, and by its 
 very enormity causing every other terror to grow small. 
 
 A bond-servant ! Just how much the word meant she 
 did not know, but it lost nothing in grimness by being 
 vague. The ship-master was not a man of refined sensi- 
 bilities, yet he had pitied her fate. Service might be 
 honourable, but bondage — ! 
 
 She threw herself upon her bed, and buried her face. 
 It was burning, but her hands were cold. Wild visions 
 of terror ran riot in her brain. She felt as if anything 
 were possible, now that it had been possible for Fulke 
 to sacrifice her, to sign away her right to the possession 
 of herself. That was the one bit of certainty in the ad- 
 vancing host of possibilities. Fulke himself did not deny 
 the existence of the agreement empowering the master 
 of the " Bullfinch " to sell the services of one Ave- 
 line Nevard. And the ship-master was ready to insist 
 upon the carrying out of the compact. Why should he 
 not be? It had been made for the convenience of the 
 signer. If the event proved satisfactory, it would be 
 well ; if not, the agreement was none the less binding. 
 
 Aveline lay long with her face hidden from the light. 
 Again and again came the sound of the ship's bell, 
 struck when the man at the wheel turned his half-hour-
 
 I02 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 glass. The watch had been changed just before she 
 came below ; now the six strokes of the bell told that six 
 half-hours had passed. Two more and there would be 
 a fresh watch. Not many more watches would be needed 
 before land was reached. Great as was the disaster, it 
 was yet coming momentarily nearer. 
 
 But the closing in of the forces of fear had another 
 effect than that of overwhelming Aveline with their power, 
 and shutting her up within their influence. Their very 
 strength caused reaction, a strong rebound from despair. 
 This future to which she was looking was too unrea- 
 sonably full of evil to be a reality. It had not come yet. 
 There was no certainty that it would come. Fulke de- 
 clared it to be impossible. It was at least as likely that 
 Roger Bennet would be at the port at the time when his 
 cargo was expected to arrive, as that he would be up the 
 country. And if not, there was the chance of inducing 
 the ship-master to wait. 
 
 The hours of the afternoon had been scarcely less 
 long to Fulke than to his sister. His thoughts were not 
 more comforting, and his efforts to escape them were 
 particularly unsatisfactory. His impatience drove him 
 on deck, where he glared at the captain and growled at 
 every one who was bold enough to address him. More 
 than one tried the experiment, and more than one went 
 off discomfited. Curiosity is a force strong enough to 
 lead men to brave something worse than a savage re- 
 joinder. 
 
 It was growing dark when Fulke felt a hand laid on 
 his arm, and turned to find Aveline by his side. He 
 seized the hand before it could be withdrawn. 
 
 "You are a good little sis'," he said. "I thought 
 you would be sensible when you had time to think it 
 over." 
 
 He was peering into her face in the dim light to see 
 whether or not she had been as " sensible " as he desired.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 103 
 
 " We may as well keep up appearances until the worst 
 comes," she said. 
 
 " The worst will never come ! It is simply impos- 
 sible ! " cried Fulke eagerly. 
 
 He would have been better satisfied if the impossibility 
 had rested on a firmer foundation. 
 
 " Fulke, Sir Julian must not know of this. Whatever 
 may happen, he must not know you have failed." 
 
 The reproach struck home, but the young man was 
 only too glad to agree to the proposition. 
 
 " There will be no need for him to know," he said. 
 " If only that rascally captain had kept a still tongue in 
 his head, none need have known. I am distracted that 
 I was forced to subject you to the fellow's insolence. 
 There is nothing more in it than that, yet that is enough. 
 I would have been bound myself, but then how could I 
 seek Bennet? " 
 ' " Then you feared he would not be at the port?" 
 
 The quietness of her tone was broken by a quiver she 
 could not control. 
 
 " It is just possible. But I shall seek him." 
 
 " And in the meantime? " 
 
 "You would have to stay on board. It is a horrible 
 necessity — but I do not believe it will come. I am 
 certain Bennet will be there." 
 
 And so Aveline tried to think, but her face looked 
 worn and strained when the captain saw it in the morn- 
 ing. All she said to him was : 
 
 " My brother has explained matters to me. He did 
 not wish to alarm me unnecessarily. I do not know 
 how it will turn out, but — you shall not lose your 
 money." 
 
 As for the ship-master, he kept his own counsel. 
 Possibly he was ashamed of the bargain he had made. 
 It was no uncommon one ; the only singularity lay in 
 the character and station of the girl who was affected
 
 I04 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 by it. He had taken over passengers who were glad to 
 secure a home at the end of the voyage, and learn some- 
 thing about the land they had come to before they had 
 to stand alone in it. To sell their services was some- 
 times — though the rule was far from being universal — 
 to procure for them a home as good, or better, than that 
 from which they had come. But this girl was of another 
 type. In the set lips and studiedly quiet tones he saw 
 how much it cost her even to speak of the possibility 
 that lay in the future. The ship-master was the victim 
 of one or two vague impulses to let the money go, to 
 tell the girl that he would trust to her honour, — her 
 brother he left out of the account, — but they were too 
 vague and fleeting to produce effect. The habit of a 
 life is proof against an accidental leaning towards tender- 
 ness. To make money and hold it, was, to the master of 
 the " Bullfinch," the first duty of man — certainly of the 
 man Captain Crandal, master and part owner of the 
 " Bullfinch." To lose money was in his eyes more than 
 a weakness — it approached very near to a crime. He 
 was sorry for the girl, but, after all, a bargain was a bar- 
 gain, and people must expect to keep it.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 105 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE ship had cast anchor in the night. The long 
 sea-voyage was ended, and the Atlantic belonged 
 to the past, Aveline stood upon the deck and 
 looked at the land. This was America, and the old 
 life was completely ended. Worse still, the new life 
 had begun. 
 
 The passengers were all gone, in a hurry to exchange 
 the vessel's planks for solid land. Half the sailors were 
 on shore. The ship was almost deserted, for unload- 
 ing had not yet begun. All were free to go where they 
 would — all but Aveline. She had not attempted to 
 leave the ship. She was too proudly conscious of the 
 hold the captain had upon her to run the risk of being 
 stopped. She would have been glad to go with her 
 brother to look for Roger Bennet, The uncertainty 
 would not have been as trying if she could have taken 
 part in the search. But to ask permission to go was 
 harder than to stay. For her — Aveline Nevard — to 
 find it necessary to consult the will of another before 
 she could step forth with the freedom enjoyed by the 
 commonest sailor on board, was bondage enough in 
 itself. 
 
 She stood proudly, all the more proudly that the 
 shame of her bondage was strong upon her. The ship- 
 master was not there. He had gone ashore an hour 
 ago, Fulke had been the first to leave the ship, too 
 impatient to stay a moment longer than was necessary, 
 
 " I shall soon set your mind at rest now," he said, as 
 he stooped to kiss her. 
 
 He had been gone many hours, and each one had 
 caused a deeper sinking of hope in Aveline's heart. If
 
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 Roger Bennet were in New York, why had not Fulke 
 returned before this? He would not wilHngly keep her 
 in suspense. She tried to find excuse for the delay, but 
 the added hours called for more than one readjustment 
 of her explanations. 
 
 She had always been strong of body and nerve, but 
 the suspense of the last two days had proved a drain 
 on the young life and health. A feeling of weariness 
 and weakness assailed her as she stood facing the land, 
 watching for her brother. Once she sat down on a 
 coil of rope that a sailor good-naturedly moved to a 
 convenient position. But she could not sit still. The 
 time seemed longer, and she found it harder to breathe. 
 She could see further standing, and it was easier to fight 
 down her fear. 
 
 She was standing when she saw him coming. Her 
 heart played her the trick of a coward, and began to 
 throb unreasonably. She held herself very still, all her 
 faculties engrossed in watching her brother. She could 
 not see the expression of his face — he was too far off"; 
 but his step was slow. All the eagerness had gone 
 from his movements. His feet seemed to drag. A 
 sickening certainty that he had failed, that the worst 
 had come, forced itself upon her. When he was near 
 enough she read confirmation in his face. It was hag- 
 gard and desperate. She went a step to meet him as 
 he came on deck. 
 
 " Bennet is not here. I shall have to go to Albany," 
 he said. Then, as her face grew whiter than before, he 
 added, " Don't, child ! It is not as desperate as you 
 think. He is to be found. He shall be found." 
 
 He grasped her arm as he spoke. The marks of his 
 fingers remained. He was speaking under strong excite- 
 ment. For the first time he owned to himself that his 
 sister was in danger. He was thoroughly roused now, 
 desperately roused. Aveline stood and looked at him,
 
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 the horror in her eyes leaving nothing to be said in 
 words. 
 
 " Here's Captain Crandal," said Fulke hurriedly. " I 
 must see him and explain." 
 
 " Don't go. I — am frightened." 
 
 Aveline stretched out her hand. He caught it, and 
 drew her to him. 
 
 " Poor little girl ! " he said. " I never thought it 
 would come to this. But you must not despair. We 
 shall find Bennet yet, and Crandal must wait." 
 
 "Will he?" asked Aveline, clutching desperately at 
 the hope. 
 
 " Of course he will. Come on, we'll ask him now." 
 
 He kept his arm about her, and drew her over to inter- 
 cept the captain as he stepped aboard. 
 
 " Hullo ! Found your man? " he asked. 
 
 " No. He is up the country." 
 
 " So I heard. Expected he would be. Well? What 
 next? " 
 
 " I must go and find him." 
 
 "Where to?" 
 
 " This place called Albany. He is there." 
 
 The captain whistled. 
 
 " Very well," he said. " And my money?" 
 
 " You shall have it as soon as I get back." 
 
 Another whistle. 
 
 " How long will it take me to go to Albany and 
 back?" asked Fulke. 
 
 " Depends on circumstances. There's a sloop going 
 in two or three days. With favourable winds you may 
 get back inside of two weeks." 
 
 " And you will give us time? " said Aveline, lifting a 
 white face to his. 
 
 He answered by another whistle, a long doubtful note. 
 
 "Think what it means to me," she pleaded. "To 
 you a few days more or less cannot mean much. Your
 
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 money is safe, for — I suppose — you can make it of my 
 services in any case." 
 
 A slight flush came to her face as she forced the words 
 from her lips. 
 
 " Time? Yes, I could give you time — all there is of 
 it," said the ship-master sulkily. " But I don't know as 
 that'll help you much. I ain't expectin' to stay here more 
 than two or three weeks to take in cargo — three at the 
 outside. It's all waitin' for me, and when it's aboard I've 
 got to sail. And before I sail, this matter's got to be 
 settled." 
 
 " But you will give us the three weeks? "said Aveline, 
 catching at the hope his words contained. 
 
 Again there was that long whistle. It seemed to the 
 girl that it pierced through brain and heart. 
 
 " And sell your time on the last day? What chance 
 do you think I should stand of doin' that? Purchasers 
 don't come every day, and 'tain't exactly likely one will 
 be on hand right to the minute. No, young mistress, 
 it's got to be done when I can find a customer. But, 
 look you, I'll do the best I can for you, and get the high- 
 est price that's goin' for your labour. I'll look out for 
 you as far as it can be done, and not risk the money. I 
 can't say fairer than that." 
 
 Aveline grasped the ship's rail to steady herself. 
 Water and sky were one blur of swaying whiteness. She 
 could not see the captain's face — that was part of the 
 blur. 
 
 The ship-master had been looking out towards the sea, 
 examining the small craft near at hand, gazing anywhere, 
 except at the girl. Now something impelled him to 
 glance furtively at her. 
 
 " Heavens ! if this isn't the hardest job I've done in my 
 life ! " he ejaculated. " See here, my lass. I can't stand 
 seein' you look like that, and you one of the pluckiest 
 wenches I ever come across. I'll tell you what I'll do.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 109 
 
 I'll give you a full week from now before I take a step to 
 sell your time. That'll give you a chance. Like as not 
 this young man will be back again before a customer 
 appears, and if one should come, I'll put him off to the 
 last moment possible. I don't say I'll lose the sale. I 
 can't afford that, but I'll do anything but lose it. Come 
 now, I can't say no fairer, can I ? " 
 
 Aveline did not answer, but she held out her hand to 
 him. He took it in both his big ones, and held it. 
 
 " Couldn't you take some of the cargo? I'll make it 
 right with Roger Bennet," said Fulke. 
 
 " Young man, we had that over before we started," was 
 the answer. " I ain't got no right to touch that cargo, and 
 more ain't you. I know Roger Bennet. He's a man of 
 business, and don't allow no tamperin' with his affairs." 
 
 " But you must know that I am his partner? Surely 
 he spoke of me ? " 
 
 " Aye, he did. And he said you was a stranger to 
 him, or had been till a week or so before. He coun- 
 selled me to look after things a bit, and if he wasn't in 
 the port of New York, to see everything put on the sloop 
 for Albany. That I'm goin' to do. But if you think 
 that what I've seen of you has given me any reason to 
 trust you specially, I shouldn't mind bein' told just 
 what that reason is. You might think it unnecessary 
 to be straightforward with me, same as you did with 
 this poor lass here, eh, young man?" 
 
 Fulke suppressed an answer it was not wise to utter. 
 His face reddened, and his hand shook. 
 
 "Why, you maybe tradin' with the Far Indians, or in 
 any other outlandish part, before I come again, and then 
 I may whistle for my money," continued the captain. 
 
 "Then there is nothing left for me to do but hasten 
 to Albany," said Fulke, trying, for Aveline's sake, to 
 speak calmly. 
 
 " Nothin', as far as I can see."
 
 no FREE TO SERVE 
 
 The young man stood for a moment looking from the 
 captain to his sister. She did not see the look. She 
 did not see anything just then. It took all her strength 
 to bear the shock. 
 
 " Come," he said. " If that is how things are going, 
 it's no earthly use to stand here longer. I must make 
 preparations for the journey. I shall depend upon you, 
 Captain Crandal, to see that the cargo is put aboard the 
 sloop. TJiat, at least, is in your agreement." 
 
 " Aye, that's in the agreement, and you'll find Geof- 
 frey Crandal a man of his word every time. Them as 
 know him can answer for that. He don't do no double 
 dealin' himself, nor yet let nobody else." 
 
 The ship-master turned and went about his business, 
 but Aveline stood holding by the rail. There was the 
 same blur of sea and sky before her eyes. There seemed 
 nothing solid left in the world. 
 
 *' Come, child, I cannot leave you here. I must see 
 about the unloading of the cargo, and the transfer to 
 the sloop. Possibly persuasion may have more effect 
 on her skipper than it has had on Crandal, and I may 
 induce him to hasten his departure. Thank goodness, 
 I've enough money to pay for the trip. Before I return 
 I shall have seen Bennet." 
 
 Fulke stepped forward briskly as he spoke. He was 
 trying to divert his sister from the one idea that had 
 taken possession of her. Her face frightened him, it 
 was so pitifully white and set. 
 
 She did not respond ; she had not even heard him. 
 He put his arm about her, and forcibly drew her away 
 from the rail. She transferred her hand to his arm, 
 and clung to that. He led her to the steep stairs, and 
 then lifted her, and carried her down. The weight was 
 not enough to account for his staggering step. Contact 
 with that limp form brought home to him the cowardice 
 of his act. He had purchased his own safety ; he was at
 
 FREE TO SERVE in 
 
 liberty to go where he would, and to win fortune in this 
 land ; and he had made her the price of his freedom. 
 It was the work of a scoundrel, and he had never meant 
 to be a scoundrel. Over on the other side of the sea, 
 when he had that long talk with the master of the 
 " Bullfinch," the plan had seemed the best under the 
 circumstances. Now that it had failed, he could see 
 the criminal folly of it. 
 
 " Aveline, say that you forgive me." 
 
 He was bending over her as she lay in her bed. He 
 had placed her there without opposition on her part. 
 She looked at him as if trying to take in the meaning of 
 his words. 
 
 " You will not get back in time," she said, the thought 
 that possessed her finding expression. 
 
 " I shall. I will, if mortal power can accomplish it," 
 he cried. 
 
 "You must not go until you have found out just what 
 it means," she continued, " what it is to be a bond- 
 servant. I want to understand — to know exactly what 
 is before me." Her voice had grown firmer. " It is 
 easier to face anything you know, even when it is terrible, 
 than to meet an evil that to you has no limit." 
 
 " I don't want you to face it," said Fulke desperately. 
 " In all probability it will never come." 
 
 "I cannot help it. I think about it, and picture 
 horrors that — perhaps — do not exist." 
 
 " You would be better not to think at all," he said. 
 " There is every likelihood that I shall be back before 
 anything happens." 
 
 "But you will find out — what steps will be taken, 
 and what will be the result? Don't stop till you know 
 the worst. It is no use putting it off now." 
 
 He looked at her steadily. Facing the worst was 
 exactly what he did not wish to do. But he promised. 
 And very much against his own inclination he put his
 
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 promise into action that same day. For his sister's 
 sake he forced himself to talk quietly with the captain. 
 
 "What am I goin' to do?" replied the ship-master. 
 " Nothin' but what's right and honest. I'll be as kind 
 to the girl as I can. There ain't no great hardship in 
 puttin' up a notice or two in the city that the service 
 of a girl of — how old is the lass? " 
 
 "Not yet eighteen," responded Fulke, with a groan. 
 
 " That the service of a lass of eighteen is for sale. 
 That's all there'll be to do at the start. When a pur- 
 chaser comes, you may rely on me to do the best I can. 
 The higher the price I get for her service, the fewer the 
 years she will have to serve to cover my money. I'll 
 bargain for a good home for her, and bind her mistress 
 hard and fast to behave right by her. That's what I'm 
 goin' to do, and if you ain't satisfied with that, you've 
 only got yourself to blame." 
 
 The thought of Aveline kept back the hasty words 
 that rose to the young man's lips. He even conde- 
 scended to ask advice as to the best way of finding 
 Roger Bennet. With the consequences of his mis- 
 management before him, he could not rely as con- 
 fidently as usual on his own wisdom. The only hope 
 for his sister lay in the speedy meeting with his new 
 partner. He set frantically about the task of superin- 
 tending the removal of the merchandise to the waiting 
 sloop, in his haste even going to the length of transfer- 
 ring some of it with his own hands. Anything was bet- 
 ter than sitting still and watching Aveline. The girl 
 had recovered so far as to be on deck again, but the 
 slowly dragging footstep was so unlike her light, quick 
 tread that he never heard it approach without feeling a 
 sharp sting of remorse. 
 
 It was the night before the sloop sailed, Fulke was 
 standing with one of Aveline's hands in his. He had 
 drawn her close to him, and she had laid her head on his
 
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 shoulder. The fear of losing her was stirring in his 
 heart. When he returned, would she be here? 
 
 " Aveline, I shall never forgive myself," he said, and she 
 felt the heavy breath that was almost a sob. '* There's 
 one thing about it: they are all justified at home now. 
 I have turned out as bad as they predicted." 
 
 " Poor boy ! " she said gently. All the hardness had 
 gone from her voice. "You will have the chance to 
 disappoint them yet." 
 
 " Yes, and I have bought it by taking every chance 
 away from you," he said passionately. 
 
 " Then make the better use of it," she replied. 
 
 She had never seen him quite as penitent before. He 
 even refrained from finding excuse for himself. In the 
 face of the evil he had wrought, he was silent. He 
 hovered round Aveline, afraid to take the final step that 
 should leave her alone to meet the danger. Even after 
 he had gone on board the sloop he made an excuse to 
 return. It was only to strain her to him and whisper, 
 " Courage, dear. I'll be back before it is too late," and 
 to say to the ship-master, " Put it off to the last moment 
 possible. If you keep her safe for me, I'll make it worth 
 your while on my return." 
 
 When he was gone Aveline began to count the days, 
 staying her heart with the hope that help would come 
 in time, and holding on to every one of the five times 
 twenty-four hours that were hers of a certainty. Beyond 
 them lay an interval in which she must hold herself ready 
 to exhibit her attainments and qualifications for service 
 to any would-be purchaser of the same, and further ahead 
 still — Fulke, or bondage. 
 
 She took to watching the winds closely, greedily drink- 
 ing in the breath of the south breeze, turning her face 
 towards it, and blessing the rough playfulness with which 
 it made free with her person. She saw some small sail- 
 ing craft spread their sails and race past before it in the
 
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 direction in which her brother had gone, and she took 
 heart, and sent a thought to the future that lay on the 
 further side of this interval of fear. But when the wind 
 sank to a dead calm, her heart felt dead too ; dead, but 
 full of unrest, like a soul that has lost the body, and 
 found no renewal of life. She would pace up and down 
 the deck, in the still July air, oppressed with a feeling 
 of suffocation. Usually she sat with her face turned 
 seaward, gazing wistfully across the water to the quarter 
 where lay home and safety. Of what lay landward she 
 tried not to think. It took all her courage to meet the 
 fears of each day. 
 
 When strangers came aboard she took refuge in her 
 cabin from their curious glances, for the consciousness 
 was always present that before long they would see her 
 name posted in some conspicuous place, and would re- 
 member that they had already cast eyes on this stranger 
 in their midst, who was waiting their will, or the will of 
 some other who could afford to pay the money which 
 should make her his bond-servant. 
 
 There was no apparent change in her when the days 
 of grace were ended, only, every morning, when the 
 light crept in through the porthole, she steeled herself to 
 bear the possible shock, and every night, when the city 
 had grown as still as her own Eastenholme, she recorded 
 one more day of danger passed. The captain never 
 returned from a walk on shore without being aware that 
 her eyes, which had grown deep and dark with longing, 
 were searching his face to find what they most dreaded to 
 see. At every return she was looking for confirmation 
 of her fears. 
 
 It was on the afternoon of the fourth day, when she 
 was sitting in her usual position, looking out to sea, that 
 she heard the ship-master's step, and turned in time to 
 meet his eye, and catch an expression on his face that had 
 not been there before. He walked away abruptly, and
 
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 assiduously employed himself in another direction, but 
 his movements were too studiedly unconcerned to set 
 her mind at rest. He did not approach her again, nor 
 appear to notice her, but that night she did not count 
 the days that had passed, nor congratulate herself on 
 another added on the side of safety. 
 
 She was not surprised when the captain left the vessel 
 early in the following forenoon, nor unprepared for his 
 return with a stranger. She did not rise, as was her rule, 
 to find privacy in her cabin. She sat still, awaiting his 
 approach, for she was sure he would approach. Even 
 in the agitation of that moment she was astonished to see 
 that his companion was a man, young and well-dressed, 
 though not of the type of any of the young men she had 
 seen before. He was not a beau, after the fashion of 
 her brother, nor did he resemble the young sons of 
 country squires who resided near Eastenholme. He was 
 no working-man, in the sense in which Aveline used the 
 term, yet he looked as if he could guide the plough or 
 wield the axe with the best of that class. So much 
 Aveline learned at a glance ; then her eyes went seaward 
 again, while she fought against the deadly fear that over- 
 powered her. 
 
 There was no trace of it when she turned at the cap- 
 tain's greeting. 
 
 '* I have brought you a visitor, my lass," he said, 
 " one that, maybe, you'll not be over-pleased to see." 
 
 Aveline rose slowly and stood before them, her face 
 white and haughty, yet touching enough in its forced 
 calmness to drive the speech from the lips of young 
 Geysbert Feljer, as he essayed to make the acquaintance 
 of the serving-maid he had come to inspect. It could 
 not be said that he altogether failed in the inspection, 
 for if his tongue refused its office, his eyes made up for 
 the defection. The captain also had become slow of
 
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 speech. The two men stood before the girl silent, 
 while she waited for them to speak. 
 
 " There is the lass, and I'll wager the like of her will 
 never fall in your way again," said the ship-master at 
 length. " Young maids of her stamp don't come over 
 in every ship." 
 
 " My mother is in need of a serving-maid," said the 
 young man, addressing Aveline in a voice that was not 
 ill-pleasing. She could not complain that the tone was 
 lacking in respect. 
 
 Aveline inclined her head. 
 
 " Captain Crandal tells me that you — that your ser- 
 vices are at his disposal." 
 
 " He speaks truly," was the answer, given in a calm, 
 proud voice. 
 
 " I could wish that my mother had been here to talk 
 with you herself," continued the young man. " Doubt- 
 less it would have been more satisfactory to both. But 
 she is now at the manor house, and I must even de- 
 cide for her," 
 
 " Would it be impossible to communicate with her 
 before you come to a decision?" asked Aveline. "I 
 would fain gain time before I am bound to service. In 
 a week my brother will probably return, and then it 
 may be unnecessary that such a step should be taken. 
 Yet I would not defraud Captain Crandal of that which 
 is his just right, by unduly putting hindrance in the way 
 of an arrangement," she hastened to add. 
 
 " Nay, nay, my girl, I'm not afraid you'd do aught 
 but what was fair. If everybody was as honest, there'd 
 be naught to say," broke in the ship-master, in a voice 
 which sought to make up in sound what it lacked in 
 ease. " There's no need to be in haste, but it will do no 
 harm for you to look at one another, and this young man 
 can take stock of the bargain he is like to get, supposin' 
 it doesn't slip through his fingers in the meantime."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 117 
 
 The stranger hesitated. 
 
 " There would not be time to hear from my mother," 
 he said. " I have only a few days left to stay in the 
 city. By the look of things I think it would be wiser 
 to return without the maid. To serve one woman at 
 the expense of another is to add little to the sum of 
 happiness." 
 
 The face of the ship-master clouded. 
 
 "There will be others who will be less scrupulous," 
 he said bluntly. 
 
 " Nay, sir, I would not have you think entirely of 
 me," interrupted Aveline. " I wish to do that which is 
 right. The money is due to Captain Crandal, and he 
 is anxious to secure it. But if you could give me time 
 — leave the matter unsettled as long as possible — it 
 would be a great boon." 
 
 " I will do that willingly enough," was the answer. 
 " But the thing is not altogether at my disposal. I go 
 up the river with the next sloop, and that will be in five 
 or six days at most. What I don't take with me then 
 must be left behind for good." 
 
 " You'll be leavin' behind a bargain that won't go 
 beggin' long," said the captain testily. " But take 
 your own way. I sail myself in a week from to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " I don't deny the bargain," was the rejoinder. " Yet, 
 if I had known, I doubt whether 1 should have sought 
 it. My mother has long spoken of securing the service 
 of a white maid, and your notice made me think that her 
 wish might perchance be gratified. We have slaves in 
 plenty, but she desires to have with her a strong, useful 
 wench, who should serve about her own person, and be 
 trained by her to oversee the ways of the household. I 
 doubt whether she had in mind a — a maiden such as 
 this. Yet the exchange may prove a good one. Were 
 I making the choice for myself, I think I should under-
 
 ii8 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 stand the points better," he added, with an unmistak- 
 able look of admiration. 
 
 " Well, young man, as far as I can see through it, your 
 good mother wants exactly what I can supply her with," 
 said the ship-master. "The lass is not fit for rough ser- 
 vice — I grant you that. But the service you need is 
 precisely what she can render. You told me yourself, 
 my lass," he continued, turning to Aveline, " that the 
 superintendence of the wenches was not beyond your 
 powers? " 
 
 " True," said Aveline. " I am not unaccustomed to 
 the care of a house. The maids at home are well- 
 trained, but they need a guiding hand, and under my 
 aunt's direction I have had experience that should make 
 me of use in the overseeing of a household." 
 
 The young man looked at her curiously, but his hes- 
 itation was gone. 
 
 "Look here, Crandal," he said. "If anybody takes 
 her, I do. That much you may consider settled. We'll 
 arrange the terms between us, and then let it rest. The 
 day before the yacht sails I'll see you again. If she 
 then desire to engage with me, she can ; if not, my 
 mother can very well await another opportunity." 
 
 They went away together, but not before a word or 
 two of low-spoken thanks had repaid the kindness the 
 young man felt peculiarly willing to shew. He found 
 himself becoming momentarily more eager to secure 
 this serving-maid for his mother, and the captain had 
 little difficulty in making a satisfactory bargain. 
 
 As soon as they had left her Aveline went below. 
 Her step was firm, and her brain clear. It had come — 
 the thing she had dreaded. She possessed herself no 
 longer. At that very moment the captain was selling, 
 and this stranger was buying, her freedom. True, there 
 were five days before the sale would be consummated, five 
 days in which to let hope and fear struggle together, and
 
 FREE TO SERVE 119 
 
 one or other die a violent death. Bond-service looked 
 very near and very real at last. It had overtaken her, 
 and she was looking it in the face. The vagueness had 
 gone from it, and it had become a definite thing, but 
 with the coming of the reality the indefinable horror 
 had fled from it. It was a sorrow, a bitter pain and 
 humiliation, but it was a thing to be borne. 
 
 1^
 
 120 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 HO ! Put back there ! Ho ! Hendricksen ! " 
 The sloop on which Fulke had embarked was 
 already in mid-stream, with wind and tide in her 
 favour. The skipper looked back towards the slip, and a 
 broad grin illumined his face. 
 
 " Hi, you ! You'd better hurry. We're going up 
 with the tide," he called. 
 
 The youth he addressed was the foremost of three. 
 He had come to a stand at the edge of the slip, while 
 the other two were yet stretching their legs in the effort 
 to lessen the space between them and the river. 
 
 " Put about and take us aboard," cried the spokesman 
 imperatively. 
 
 " Not I. You'll have to row for it," shouted the 
 skipper, putting his hands to his mouth, and causing his 
 lungs to do duty in a manner that sent the sound well 
 out across the water. 
 
 " Put back, or we'll make you roar for it," called the 
 youth. 
 
 " All right. There'll soon be distance enough between 
 us to make roaring a necessity," replied the skipper. 
 
 The belated passengers looked after the retreating 
 sloop, and then hurried along the bank of the river and 
 jumped into a boat. It required some exercise of 
 muscle to reduce the distance between the boat and the 
 sloop, though the skipper presently shortened sail out 
 of consideration for the pursuers. His broad face grew 
 broader with merriment as the boat came alongside. 
 
 "What means this unseemly haste? I swear we 
 were not more than an hour behind the prearranged 
 sailing time," cried one of the three, by way of salutation.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 121 
 
 They scrambled on deck, their first business a survey 
 of the passengers, with most of whom they appeared 
 more or less familiar. Fulke held himself aloof. He 
 was in no mood for the making of new acquaintances, 
 and the noisy hilarity of the travellers grated upon 
 him. The late-comers, having exchanged greetings 
 with the company, stood so near to his elbow that he 
 could hear every word they spoke. Not that he was 
 much the wiser for the hearing, since the conversation 
 was carried on in Dutch, of which language he knew 
 nothing. 
 
 "A pretty young man," began the most youthful of 
 the three, without looking in Fulke's direction. 
 
 " Pretty, do you say? He looks savage enough to 
 put the scalps of the wild men in danger. I shall take 
 the first opportunity to warn my friends among the 
 braves to look out for the mighty hunter of scalps, for 
 he is in their midst, with a frown huge enough to darken 
 the sunshine." 
 
 " Nay, no scalp-hunter is he. The dear boy is suffer- 
 ing from an aching heart. He has not seen his mammy 
 for an age, and his eye is dark with unshed tears," com- 
 mented another. 
 
 " Who is he? " was the next question. 
 
 "Don't know. The son of his mother." 
 
 "Where is he going? Esopus or Albany?" 
 
 " Ask him," suggested the oldest of the three. 
 
 "Ask him yourself." 
 
 " Very well. I'm willing." 
 
 " Look out for your scalp." 
 
 The young man left his friends, and took a step for- 
 ward . 
 
 " Do you disembark at Esopus, or go right on by the 
 sloop? " he asked, addressing Fulke insufficiently good 
 English. 
 
 " I am bound for Albany," was the curt reply.
 
 122 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 "You are? Then we are all for one port. Intend to 
 stay long? " 
 
 " Until my business is finished." 
 
 " Another element of similarity," said the young man, 
 with mock seriousness. "We are expecting to do the 
 same. Only as our business usually lies in the northern 
 portion of the province, it is not liable to be finished at 
 any very early date. Does this afford a further point 
 of resemblance?" 
 
 He put his questions in the gravest possible manner, 
 looking at Fulke placidly the while. His last inquiry 
 remaining unanswered, he proposed another. 
 
 "Are you acquainted with any one in our city? " he 
 ventured. 
 
 " Which do you call your city ? " asked Fulke shortly. 
 
 " Albany, my good friend. The city of the fort, and 
 the friend of the Five Nations. Albany, to be sure." 
 
 " In that case you can possibly tell me of one Roger 
 Bennet," said Fulke, his manner growing less con- 
 strained, and a trace of eagerness appearing. 
 
 " Ho, ho ! Now we are coming to it. We have 
 found bait," said the young man, in an aside to his 
 companions. 
 
 " Roger Bennet? And are you a friend of our trader, 
 Roger," he added in English, " or is it but a matter of 
 business that brings you hither to look up a stranger?" 
 
 " Nay, Roger Bennet is no stranger to mc," said 
 Fulke. " But of his present whereabouts I am ignorant. 
 I would give much to know just where to go to meet 
 him." 
 
 "It cannot — nay — that is impossible," said the 
 other, looking long and critically at the Englishman. 
 
 " What is impossible? " asked Fulke. 
 
 " That you could be the partner of whose coming 
 Roger spoke. A partner in his trading ventures, he said, 
 but — to judge by your appearance — "
 
 FREE TO SERVE 123 
 
 "Who asked you to judge by my appearance?" 
 demanded Fulke testily. " Judging by your appear- 
 ance it would be easy to deny that you were a man of 
 sense, yet the judgment mighfhQ incorrect." 
 
 The other took the retort good-naturedly. 
 
 "Then I am to infer that you are the partner of 
 Roger Bennet? " he said. 
 
 " You can infer what you like," was the answer. " It 
 won't alter the fact, nor make me less or more his part- 
 ner. I expected to meet Bennet at the port of New 
 York. His absence is exceedingly unfortunate." 
 
 " Ha! Yes. I understand. The 'Bullfinch' was in 
 betimes. Roger was not expecting her for a week or 
 two yet. He could not get away so early from his trad- 
 ing. Since you are yourself a trader, of course you 
 know these summer months are the time in which the 
 warriors of the Five Nations seek our city to dispose of 
 their pelts. Our traders are then not at liberty to be 
 gadding abroad." 
 
 " Then I shall surely find Roger Bennet at Albany?" 
 said Fulke, with a strong sense of relief. 
 
 " Sure is not the word for the movements of our friend 
 Roger," said the young Dutchman. "With him a man 
 is sure of nothing but uncertainty. He had but a few 
 more natives to expect when I left the city. If they have 
 already visited him, he may be away seeking scattered 
 bands, for he trades with others than those of the Five 
 Nations. These seek Albany, as a rule, but those have 
 sometimes to be sought, and Roger is not a man to lose 
 trade. It was the impossibility of leaving in July that 
 kept him from coming to see about his cargo. So much 
 I know from his own lips." 
 
 " And if he should have left Albany, will it be easy to 
 find him?" asked Fulke, his hopes damped by the ex- 
 planation. 
 
 " Maybe yes, and maybe no. What do you say,
 
 124 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Claes? What will be the movements of our friend 
 Roger when his Albany trading is over?" 
 
 He turned to another of the young men, and soon the 
 four were in earnest conversation. Fulke learned more 
 about Indian trading than he had expected to know so 
 soon, but he learned nothing about Roger Bennet's 
 movements that could remove the uneasiness from his 
 mind, or make him feel less of a culprit than when he 
 turned his back on his sister, and left her to face alone 
 the result of his folly. 
 
 The three young men from Albany were disposed to 
 pursue the acquaintance. A stranger was a novelty, 
 and when once the ice was broken they found Fulke 
 more approachable than they anticipated. In the time 
 that followed, the acquaintance ripened into intimacy, 
 for a Hudson-river sloop was not big enough to allow 
 men to stand off very far from one another. More- 
 over, though he had been at first repelled by their light 
 merriment, Fulke found his companions useful in rid- 
 ding him of the company of his own thoughts. Their 
 careless hilarity touched a chord which had been silent 
 since the night when he and Wyville quarrelled. There 
 was a waking up of the old desire for excitement, a re- 
 bound from the pressure that had been upon him for 
 the last few weeks. He had not escaped his fears, but 
 he was turning his back upon them, and trying to ignore 
 them. 
 
 The voyage was a slow one, and while the sloop lay 
 becalmed, Fulke had more than sufficient opportunity 
 to go ashore and inspect the land. It was the evening 
 of the fifth day from starting when the vessel cast an- 
 chor but a few hours' journey from Albany. Wind and 
 tide were unfavourable, and the skipper was cautious 
 enough to wait for the light. 
 
 All day Fulke had been running away from the 
 thought that the limit of Aveline's safety was reached.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 125 
 
 that to-night ended the week during which the master 
 of the " Bullfinch " had promised to remain inactive. 
 His inward uneasiness drove him to seek diversion 
 in the company of his new friends. They sat late 
 on deck, talking and joking, but, late as it was, 
 sleep was not quick in coming when Fulke turned in. 
 Would Roger Bennet be in Albany? And if not, what 
 then? He set his teeth together as he thought of 
 Captain Crandal's haste to be gone, and of his deter- 
 mination to secure his money before he sailed. 
 
 Fulke had been the last to leave the deck, and he 
 was the first to seek it again. Here he had, at the 
 least, the chance of escaping communion with himself. 
 
 " Hullo, Fulke ! Come to rouse up that laggard of 
 a sun? Your eyes look constraining enough to draw 
 him from his bed a full hour earlier than usual." 
 
 Tunis Halenbeeck stuck his head above the stairs, 
 and took a leisurely survey of the deck. 
 
 " Oh, I'm tired to death of this sleepy old sloop. 
 She's crawled up here like a snail. Thank goodness, 
 there'll be something to do beside eating and sleeping 
 when we get to Albany," said Fulke. 
 
 " Wait till we're there. We'll soon give you a taste 
 of life, my boy," responded his companion. 
 
 " I doubt not there will be life enough when I get 
 clear of this wretched vessel," said Fulke. " I have 
 myself a considerable cargo on board, to the unloading 
 of which I must attend." 
 
 "Ah! Indian goods?" 
 
 " Principally." 
 
 " And they are consigned to — whom? " 
 
 " Roger Bennet." 
 
 " That is well. It may save trouble. Our city is 
 jealous of outsiders, and allows no stranger to inter- 
 meddle with her trade with the natives. To barter 
 with them is her exclusive privilege, and she holds to it.
 
 126 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Roger Bennet is of ourselves. He resides in Albany, 
 and has become one of us," 
 
 " It was for that reason the cargo was put in his name," 
 said Fulke. " He said that it would be wiser thus to do." 
 
 " Aye, and he was right. And you — you too will 
 have to be one of us if you would become an Indian 
 trader." 
 
 " I am willing," said Fulke. " Roger Bennet averred 
 that he could arrange it. I am at present in great straits 
 in a matter about which I must see Roger. Afterwards 
 I shall be free to take any necessary steps." 
 
 " That is — Ah ! Who comes yonder? " 
 
 Both faced about to get a better view of a canoe that 
 had shot into sight, half a mile below the sloop. 
 
 " Some one that wants to go up with us," said Tunis. 
 
 The sloop was about to make sail, and the occupants 
 of the canoe were putting forth their strength to come 
 up with her before she started. 
 
 " Pouwelyn Swart and Arent Segersen, as I live," 
 said Tunis. 
 
 Everybody was on deck by this time, watching the 
 approaching canoe. As it came alongside, two young 
 men scrambled aboard and secured the boat. 
 
 " Thought we should overtake you," said one. " Hullo, 
 Tunis ! Got back from New York? " 
 
 " When did you come down?" asked Tunis. 
 
 "Yesterday." 
 
 " Then you can possibly tell me whether Roger Ben- 
 net is yet in Albany," said Fulke. He was in a fever of 
 impatience to know his fate — or, rather, Aveline's fate. 
 
 The young man shook his head. 
 
 " Ten days too late," he said. " Roger went off trad- 
 ing that long ago." 
 
 For the next minute Fulke heard nothing of the talk 
 that went on around him. He was trying to collect his 
 senses, and gather together his resources.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 127 
 
 " Do you know in what direction he has gone, and 
 how soon he is expected to return?" 
 
 He broke in on the conversation, quite unaware that 
 he cut short an interesting item of news. 
 
 " Who? Oh, Roger Bennet. I don't know anything 
 about his plans. He's a little close, is Roger." 
 
 The break in the talk closed up again, and the gossip 
 went on. 
 
 " He has? Well done, Roeloff Jansen ! Deceived us 
 all, for once. For my part, I could have sworn he was 
 not going to be married till winter." 
 
 There was more talk, and loud laughter. Then came 
 an outburst of merriment. 
 
 " Good ! We'll all be on hand. That's too good a 
 chance of fun to be left till cold weather." 
 
 Then they lapsed into Dutch, though, if Fulke had 
 been listening, he might have heard his own name. He 
 was not listening. At one moment he was wishing him- 
 self back in New York, cursing his folly in leaving Aveline 
 entirely unprotected, and the next planning a rapid pur- 
 suit of Roger Bennet. But beneath all his hastily con- 
 structed plans, and through all his frantic declarations 
 that he would accomplish his object yet, reason was 
 steadily protesting that the last hope was gone. 
 
 The sloop was nearing Albany. The company of 
 young men grew more hilarious. 
 
 " Come, Fulke," said one, " we will drink to your luck 
 on our shores, though, to judge by your face, one might 
 think that you and luck had had a quarrel." 
 
 "Truly luck is a delusion. The more you seek it, the 
 closer it hides," said Fulke. 
 
 " Cease hunting for it, and take a good draught of our 
 cordial, as good a specimen of Jamaica rum as skipper 
 ever stowed away for cargo," replied Tunis. 
 
 They drank together of the West India rum that 
 Albany traders found potent in loosing the tight grip the
 
 128 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 red man was apt to keep on his treasured furs. Fulke 
 quaffed it greedily. His hand shook. A desperate fear, 
 a hunted feehng, as of one who has come to his last re- 
 source, and dares not own to himself that there is no way 
 to turn, was assailing him. He drank every drop of the 
 fiery liquid, and waited eagerly for more. When he 
 lifted it again to his lips, his hand closed convulsively 
 about the cup. A frantic desire for something that 
 should remove this overshadowing dread, and give him 
 hope even though no hope existed, was in his eagerness 
 to swallow the draught. As the warm drops touched 
 his tongue, they seemed to have potency to hold him 
 back from the black desolation before him. 
 
 It had not failed, that warm, hope-imparting draught, 
 His hand was growing steady, and his brain returning 
 to its duty. Now he could think again. He turned to 
 the young men, addressing them as a whole. 
 
 " If any of you could help me to find Roger Bennet, 
 you would be doing me a vast favour, and putting me 
 under an everlasting obligation," he said. 
 
 " If there's a man on earth that can tell you of Roger's 
 whereabouts, it is Volkert Klaerbout," said one of the 
 latest comers. " He will be in the city to-night, for 
 certain. Better wait till you can see him." 
 
 " We'll get him to join us," said another. 
 
 " The very thing. Then you'll be sure of him. Trust 
 Volkert for missing a frolic. Fulke, we want you to 
 reserve yourself for us to-night," said Tunis Halenbeeck. 
 " We've a little frolic on hand, a distinctive bit of Albany 
 sport, and we want you for our guest. You London 
 fellows think you know all about fun, I doubt not, but 
 I'll wager you've never been in as pretty a piece of fun 
 as this. True, it is best enjoyed in winter, and is now 
 sport out of season, but if folks will go and get married 
 suddenly, and set up housekeeping in the summer, we 
 must stretch a point in their favour,"
 
 FREE TO SERVE 129 
 
 " Nay, till I have seen Roger I have neither heart nor 
 time for sport," said Fulke. 
 
 " Hang Roger i You'll not find him the quicker for 
 prating his name from morn till night. Your best way 
 of finding him is to come with us. There you will meet 
 with Volkert Klaerbout, and when our sport is well 
 under way, and supper is in prospect, we will discuss the 
 best means of going in search of him. You may trust 
 me there is no better way." 
 
 Fulke hesitated. He cared nothing at that moment 
 for their fun, but anything was better than waiting idly 
 for the morrow. He was alone in the city, and its ways 
 were strange to him. Without some help, his chances 
 of speedily finding Roger Bennet were small. 
 
 " Come, give us your promise. Throw off care and 
 trust to chance. Roger will be found none the sooner 
 for seeking him with a long face." 
 
 Fulke wavered Throw off care ! Why not? If noth- 
 ing could be done that day, he might as well throw 
 ofT care as carry it. Carry it ! He had carried it till 
 he was weighed down, spent with the effort. And what 
 had he accomplished? Who could tell whether, when 
 night came, and tongues were loosened, when men 
 grew friendly over the feast, he might not find a chance 
 to enlist one or other of his new acquaintances on his 
 side? He might even borrow — but here he stopped. 
 His pride was up at arms against asking strangers for 
 such help. And yet, for Aveline's sake — 
 
 He would let the matter rest. But he would accept 
 the invitation, and if he accepted, he would be no kill- 
 joy. He would throw off care. There was that to be 
 had which would make it possible.
 
 I30 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IT was a hot July evening, and Albany was in its 
 usual evening position — outside its doors. The 
 town cows had come home — unattended, for Albany 
 cows of the year 1701 had imbibed too thoroughly the 
 self-helpful character of their colonial surroundings to 
 need the assistance of a driver to bring them to their 
 respective milking stations. They had started in a 
 long straggling line from the common pasture outside 
 the town, and the tinkling of their bells had warned 
 their owners that they were ready to be milked. No 
 good hausvrouw, however, had felt it incumbent upon 
 her to look after any one of them. It would have been 
 an entirely unnecessary proceeding. Every good Albany 
 cow stopped in a sensible manner at the tree which over- 
 shadowed the front porch of the particular dwelling to 
 which she belonged, and began critically to crop the 
 grass that grew along the street, turning her head lazily 
 as one and another of her companions passed beyond 
 her in sedate march to some other tree by some other 
 door. Since well-nigh every house in Albany possessed 
 a cow, and every cow could lay rightful claim to a tree, 
 and every tree sheltered a porch, there was a long line 
 of cows, under a long line of trees, in the long street 
 that lay parallel with the water, and from which the 
 gardens sloped back almost to the river's bank. 
 
 The musical sound of the milk falling into the re- 
 spective pails had long ago ceased, and now the city 
 cows were contemplatively chewing the cud, and taking 
 part in the general reunion, for old and young Albany 
 occupied the seats around the stoops, in close proximity
 
 FREE TO SERVE 131 
 
 to the overshadowing trees, and friendly converse, in- 
 formal and unrestrained, took the place of the day's 
 labours. 
 
 Nobody was in a hurry to bring the resting time to 
 an end ; that is, none but a certain company of young 
 men, who were in haste to carry out a little plan of their 
 own, in which the silence of night was an essential 
 element. But the evening was drawing on, and the 
 moon was about to set a good example and retire for 
 the night, warning honest citizens to go to bed. One 
 by one the seats upon the stoops emptied, and porch 
 after porch settled into quietude. 
 
 Along the river, at the back of the houses, the still- 
 ness of night prevailed, or seemed to prevail. If one 
 had listened carefully he might have heard a footfall now 
 and again, and once or twice his ear would have been 
 greeted by a smothered laugh. 
 
 "The turkeys won't be in as prime a condition as if we'd 
 waited for winter, but Roeloff's anger will well pay for 
 the loss of turkey flesh," said a voice out of the darkness. 
 
 "He'd be on the lookout then, but now he'll be as 
 unsuspicious as a baby till he finds his best bird miss- 
 ing, and knows we have had a fine supper at his 
 expense," was the chuckling response. 
 
 " Look out, Fulke ! " said a voice that broke the 
 silence again. " There's a post there. Here we are. 
 Next garden belongs to Roeloff. Now for sport, and 
 the exercise of skill." 
 
 The speaker emerged into a more open space, and 
 the light of the stars disclosed a figure not unlike that 
 of Tunis Halenbeeck. Three other youths were there, 
 but they kept in the shadow. 
 
 " Now look alive ! " 
 
 Four pairs of legs climbed the fence that surrounded 
 the garden, and four figures crept stealthily up towards 
 the outbuildings belonging to a house from which the
 
 132 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 lights were disappearing. Only one burned when they 
 reached the end of the garden. 
 
 " Here's Pomp coming to see to things for the night, 
 and make sure the turkeys are safe, always provided 
 Roeloff's got any turkeys here at this time in the year," 
 said Tunis. " Now, Fulke, you and I will make the 
 venture together. You understand? A }'oung pig, or 
 a fat turkey. Anything you can lay your hands on 
 quickly, and if you're caught, you take what you get, 
 and say nothing about it." 
 
 The company divided, and Fulke and his companion 
 lay low in the shadow, watching their opportunity to slip 
 into one of the buildings. A sturdy negro, carelessly 
 swinging a lantern in which a tallow candle burned with 
 a dim light, was seen advancing towards the sheds. 
 That he had not waited for the legitimate hour to begin 
 his night's slumbers was evidenced by the sleepy move- 
 ment with which he fitted a key into the lock of one 
 of the doors. 
 
 Of all the buildings belonging to his master, none 
 were locked save those which sheltered the turkeys and 
 the pigs. These particular possessions were acknowl- 
 edged to be in danger up here in the small city of 
 Albany. They had enemies alert and cunning. Not 
 the red men. With wild birds in plenty in the for- 
 ests, these had no designs on the citizens' poultry or 
 pigs. The danger lay less in greed than in the love of 
 sport. These members of the animal tribe afforded 
 scope for the enjoyment of a special form of amusement 
 that derived its charm from its peculiarly risky char- 
 acter. Not that summer was the chosen season for 
 indulging in this essentially local sport. Winter had 
 always been the critical epoch in the life of the Albany 
 turkey and roasting pig. But there are occasions when 
 even custom may be expected to deviate from its ordi- 
 nary path ; therefore Roelofif secured his doors.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 133 
 
 For this young man had married a wife, thus quitting 
 the ranks of Albany bachelors, and his pigs and his 
 turkeys were fit prey for the youths with whom he had 
 often gone turkey-hunting around forbidden premises, 
 but whose practices he had abandoned forever. For 
 him the sport was a thing of the past. To steal out 
 some cold dark night, and prowl round a luckless house- 
 holder's outbuildings till a favourable moment gave 
 access to pig-pen or turkey-roost, and then to seize 
 turkey or young pig, and with it creep safely away to 
 enjoy the stolen dainty at a city tavern, and sit far into 
 the night feasting and gloating over the chagrin of the 
 outwitted fattener of the feast, was to be his happy fate 
 no more. As a married man he had abjured such juve- 
 nile folly, but in abjuring it he had transferred himself 
 from the ranks of the turkey catchers to those of the 
 turkey furnishers. For if the unmarried men of Al- 
 bany ate turkeys on dark nights, the householders of 
 Albany fattened the turkeys for the feast ; and as a 
 married man Roeloff was now a householder, and the 
 owner of pigs and turkeys. Nothing was more likely 
 than that an early visit would be paid him — hence his 
 precautions. 
 
 Negro and lantern disappeared within the building. 
 Only a faint glimmer shone out through the open door. 
 
 " Now's our time," whispered Tunis. " Follow me, 
 and look out." 
 
 Fulke could have obeyed the latter injunction better 
 if there had been more light. He made a blind dash 
 after his companion, and stumbled into a deeper darkness 
 somewhere, he did not know where. Certain unmistak- 
 able evidences of the proximity of that indispensable 
 colonial possession, the pig, greeted the intruders. To 
 make assurance doubly sure, a genuine grunt was heard. 
 
 " All right," whispered Fulke's companion. "We're 
 in luck. I can hear some juveniles over yonder. A
 
 134 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 good roaster is what we're after, and we'll have it, when 
 that rascal Pomp's out of the road." 
 
 Pomp was to all appearance in no hurry. The lantern 
 he had hung on a post threw a weird light on his dark 
 features. The long shadows advanced and retreated as 
 the negro changed his own or his light's position. Once 
 or twice he came dangerously near the boards and casks 
 that sheltered the watchers. Pomp was a young man, 
 as young as the master he served, and the youths who 
 were hiding near him. He was young enough to enter 
 into the spirit of a piece of mischief, and just now there 
 was in his eye a twinkle that was not called forth by the 
 healthy specimens of the pork family to which he was 
 ministering. He was surely unduly long about his task, 
 and unusually solicitous for the welfare of his charges, 
 for after every possible duty was done, he stood leaning 
 over the rough boards, looking down into the pen, with 
 that same twinkle in his eye. 
 
 "Ruin take the rascal! What's he stopping for?" 
 muttered Tunis. 
 
 The negro might have been finishing his interrupted 
 nap, so still was his figure, but his eyes shone with that 
 same appreciative light. Pomp was surely not asleep. 
 He went away at last, carefully and ostentatiously lock- 
 ing the door behind him, but to the disgust of two other 
 watchers without, he opened no more doors. If there 
 were turkeys on Roeloff Jansen's premises, they were 
 destined to stay there in safety that night. 
 
 " Now's our opportunity," said Tunis. " Thank good- 
 ness, the fellow's gone at last ! " 
 
 To select a pig in the dark, and forcibly persuade 
 the same to leave the bosom of its family and allow 
 itself to be hoisted over the high boards which fenced 
 it in, was an undertaking that demanded dexterity. 
 
 Fulke grew momentarily wiser on the subject of the mus- 
 cular and vocal powers of that little-appreciated animal.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 135 
 
 " Do you always earn your suppers as hard as this 
 before you have them? " he asked, as he straightened 
 himself for a greater effort. " Truly, it may be a good 
 winter occupation." 
 
 They bent again to the task, and lifted the squealing 
 youngster over the pen. 
 
 " Here, hold on to him a minute, while I put this 
 sack over him to deaden his screeches," said Tunis. 
 
 Fulke essayed to " hold on," and the pig endeav- 
 oured to make off. It was a trial of strength that bade 
 fair to leave victory on the side of the quadruped. 
 
 " Hold on ! Don't let him go, or we shall be chasing 
 our supper in this dark hole for an hour," cried Tunis. 
 
 Fulke endeavoured to get a firmer hold of the ani- 
 mal's hind legs, and Tunis stooped to draw the sack 
 over the squealing victim's head. At that critical mo- 
 ment the door of the building was swung open wide, 
 and the owner of the prospective supper appeared in 
 the doorway, holding his lantern high, that its rays 
 might penetrate the interior. 
 
 " Horrors ! We're caught. Quick, Fulke ! Up with 
 you on that partition. There's a trap-door above." 
 
 Tunis had grasped the front legs of the pig as he 
 spoke. Now he darted behind the casks, and in a 
 moment was on the partition, intending to escape 
 through an upper window to one of the other roofs. 
 
 " Come on ! We'll save our supper yet." 
 
 He was half-way through the opening, and Fulke 
 did his best to follow, while at the same time he held 
 on to the hind legs of the wriggling, struggling, twist- 
 ing specimen of the pork family. Tunis pulled above, 
 the pig jerked between, and Fulke hoisted below. It 
 was a lively time, and to add to the liveliness, the 
 owner of the animal advanced to the rescue, armed 
 with a stick that looked capable of becoming an im- 
 portant factor in the proceedings.
 
 136 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " Drop that pig !" shouted the Dutchman, in a voice 
 suggestive of no mean bodily strength. 
 
 He gave another proof of histiness in the resounding 
 thwack with which he brought his weapon across the 
 legs just within reach, on the top of the partition. 
 Fulke had full proof of the strength of a Dutchman's 
 arm, and the solidity of a Dutch cudgel, in the next 
 moments. The low, guttural laugh of the negro, who 
 was standing in the doorway enjoying the success of 
 his timely warning, was especially exasperating to him 
 in his present undignified position. He made a frantic 
 effort, in the shape of a mighty spring, and had suc- 
 ceeded in getting one leg over the roof, when, unluckily, 
 the pig also nerved himself for a gigantic effort. The 
 double movement was too much for Tunis, standing 
 under the sharply sloping roof above. It jerked the 
 animal's legs out of his grasp. 
 
 " Look out! He's slipping," he cried. 
 
 A sudden rushing sweep of soft flesh, and the pressure 
 against him of a weight that bore him back irresistibly, 
 were the sensations that came to Fulke with his com- 
 panion's words. Then there was the sound of a thump 
 on the floor below, a frantic momentary effort to regain 
 his balance, and a second heavy thud. This time it was 
 not the pig that fell. 
 
 " Has he gone? " whispered Tunis. " If so, come on. 
 We can slip down off the next roof." 
 
 The only answer was a succession of sounding 
 blows, as of a stout stick stoutly used. For a moment 
 Fulke lay still, stunned by the fall and the shower of 
 blows. Then he realized his position, and in a strange 
 fantastic way the words of Tunis darted through his 
 brain. 
 
 " If you are caught, you take what you get." He was 
 taking it, sure enough. 
 
 " Pomp, you rascal, come here and hold the lantern,
 
 FREE TO SERVE 137 
 
 so that I can see to give this fellow an appetite for his 
 supper." 
 
 The words were in Dutch, and the speaker never 
 stopped his vigorous wielding of the stick, while Pomp, 
 rolling and shaking with laughter, advanced and raised 
 the lantern from the floor, where his master had hastily 
 deposited it. Fulke had made two or three futile 
 attempts to rise. In the first place, the Dutchman's foot 
 was planted firmly on his victim, and in the next, the 
 sharp pain in the leg that was doubled under him warned 
 Fulke that the fall had cost him something more than a few 
 bruises. Now, as the light showed the face of his cap- 
 tor, he made another desperate efifort, and partly raised 
 himself. The uplifted arm of the Dutchman dropped. 
 
 "Why, in the name of wonder, who is the knave?" 
 he cried. " He's not one of us." 
 
 " One of you ! The fates forbid ! " Fulke burst out 
 wrathfully. " Of all the ridiculous pranks to invite a 
 stranger to share in, this beats the lot. Here, if you're 
 satisfied with the execution you've done with that club, 
 lend me your hand. We can fight it out another time. 
 I doubt there's mischief enough done for one night." 
 
 The young householder drew back in speechless as- 
 tonishment. He had expected to see one of his old 
 cronies, or if not a particular associate, at least a resi- 
 dent of Albany. But this intruder was a stranger, and 
 by his speech it was evident he was not a Dutchman. 
 Roeloff had wielded his weapon manfully. He had felt 
 that his reputation was at stake. To catch the disturb- 
 ers of his turkey-roost or his pig-pen, and give them 
 according to their deserts, was accounted an act of valour, 
 a fit beginning for the life of a fully fledged citizen. To 
 let the depredators escape with their prey was to give 
 them the chance of a laugh at his expense. He had 
 caught one of them, and he had meant to show his 
 prowess. Now he was somewhat disconcerted. He
 
 138 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 stooped, and tried to help Fulke to rise, but after the first 
 attempt, the young man dropped back upon the floor. 
 
 " It's no use. The leg is broken," he said. 
 
 Then a figure suddenly dropped through the trap- 
 door, and sprang easily down to the floor. 
 
 " Fulke, old boy, what is it? " said Tunis. " Can't 
 you get up? " 
 
 "Do men walk with broken legs here in Albany?" 
 asked Fulke coldly. " We are not possessed of that 
 accomplishment in England." 
 
 "Are you sure it's broken? You may be mistaken," 
 remonstrated Tunis, who felt in a measure responsible 
 for the accident. 
 
 " Feel for yourself," was the curt reply. 
 
 But the touch of the young man's fingers called forth 
 an exclamation of pain. Tunis looked at Roeloff in dis- 
 may. That young man was gloomily studying the situa- 
 tion. 
 
 " You've made a pretty mess of your frolic this time," 
 he said. " I suppose there's no help for it ; we shall 
 have to carry him into the house. Here, you, Pomp ! 
 Go and fetch me a broad, short board." 
 
 They both looked with some compunction on the face 
 of the stranger, white and drawn with pain. The fract- 
 ure was a bad one, and before the bone was set, Fulke's 
 reputation for quiet endurance had been fairly estab- 
 lished. Nevertheless, when it no longer took all his 
 strength to master the sharp physical pain, the signs of 
 sufl'ering continued unabated. He ought to have been 
 resting after the strain of the last hours, but he lay chaf- 
 ing and fuming. He could appreciate now the feelings 
 of a wild animal caught in a trap. Every faculty was 
 alive and suffering. His leg lay a useless weight, ren- 
 dering him practically as helpless as itself. He had 
 promised Aveline that he would return in time to save 
 her. Now he must lie here like a log, while she waited
 
 FREE TO SERVE 139 
 
 and watched for his coming day after day, and at last 
 had to face — He raised himself on his elbow, and 
 called desperately to his host — host by compulsion, 
 which was another cause of uneasiness. 
 
 " I cannot lie here," he said. " It is imperative that 
 I should be back in the port of New York with the next 
 sloop, and in the meantime I must meet Roger Bennet. 
 There is that at stake which makes it of vast importance. 
 Is there no way of seeing Volkert Klaerbout to-night? 
 I was to have met him at — " 
 
 He hesitated. The sentence was awkward to finish. 
 
 " At the tavern where you were to go to feast on my 
 pig," said Roeloff somewhat grimly. 
 
 " A curse on your pig, and everything connected with 
 such folly," said Fulke. " I was an ass to have any- 
 thing to do with it." 
 
 His host did not contradict him. 
 
 " But I must see this Volkert Klaerbout, and that at 
 once," continued Fulke. " I might as well be buried 
 alive as lie here with this leg a dead drag on me, while 
 all the time the last hope is slipping away." 
 
 "You'll stand a fair chance of being buried, and that 
 not alive, if you go on like this," said Roeloff. " As a 
 doctor, which you say you are, you ought to know that 
 excitement is the worst possible thing in a case like 
 yours." 
 
 " Excitement ! " cried Fulke, in a voice high-pitched 
 and unnatural. "Would you keep cool if the — the 
 freedom of one whose happiness was of far more con- 
 sequence than your miserable life, depended on your 
 movements, and you lay helpless as a baby?" 
 
 It ended in the looking up of Volkert Klaerbout. 
 There was no quieting the excitement which had taken 
 possession of Fulke by any other means than bringing 
 the young man to his side. Roeloff went off grumbling, 
 and was gone long.
 
 140 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " Here's Volkert Klaerbout, if that will do you any- 
 good," he said when he returned. 
 
 " Roger Bennet? " said the new-comer, in answer to 
 Fulke's questioning. " It's little use putting yourself in 
 a frenzy about him. You couldn't overtake Roger if 
 you had three legs at your disposal, and all of them 
 good for work. He'll be back here in five or six days, 
 if things should go well. You'd have to wait till then 
 in any case." 
 
 Five or six days ! There was still a bare possibility 
 of the money being in time. Roger must be induced to 
 go to New York with it himself. Something must be 
 done, should be done, when Roger came. Over and 
 over, through the night hours, Fulke said it to himself, 
 now counting the chances, now acknowledging that there 
 were none to count. And in the gray light of dawn he 
 was saying the words still, only the tongue that spoke 
 them tripped, and made strange blunders, for the eye 
 that looked into the surroundings of the new day shone 
 with an unnatural light.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 141 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 CAPTAIN CRANDAL was in a bad temper. 
 He swore at the seamen who were stowing away 
 his cargo of tobacco and peltry, and quarrelled 
 with the New Yorkers whose boats swept round too 
 close to his vessel. He railed at the hot wind that blew 
 from the south, and the sun that burnt and blistered 
 the paint of the " Bullfinch," and set the captain to 
 mopping his face with his sleeve. And after all, it was 
 not the steady pouring down of the golden rays that 
 gave to the master of the "Bullfinch" that feeling of 
 oppression, and forced him to turn to windward in the 
 vain hope of catching a breath of cool air. It was not 
 the sun that was burning into the rugged heart, which 
 was not all hardened, despite the greed of the captain's 
 self-centred life, but rather the consciousness of a folded 
 square of paper resting in the capacious pocket, well 
 out of sight. That bit of paper might as well have been 
 held up before his eyes, so persistently did the words it 
 bore accompany and confront him. 
 
 He had done it — done the deed against which his 
 heart had been giving vigorous protests these five days, 
 the deed towards which his settled life principle of 
 money-getting had been steadily driving him. The 
 price of the passage of two adults in the good ship 
 " Bullfinch " lay close to the folded paper. And yet 
 Captain Crandal was not happy. Not happy ! He came 
 nearer being desperately unhappy than he could 
 remember to have been for many a year. He swore a 
 bigger oath by way of giving vent to some of his dis- 
 satisfaction, and then went and looked down into the 
 vessel's hold.
 
 142 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " Hoist them chests on deck, will you, and look 
 alive ! Don't go to sleep there ! " he shouted. 
 
 " Aye, aye," came from the depths, and one by one 
 three strong oak chests were swung up, and the work 
 of stowing away cargo went on. 
 
 It was not many minutes later when Aveline came on 
 deck, and walked slowly over to where the big boxes 
 rested. She stood looking down upon them, or trying 
 to look through the blur of tears that came at the sudden 
 contact with objects which were associated with the safe 
 home-life. She had not seen those chests since they 
 stood, packed and ready to be sent off, in the hall of 
 the Great House. There was not a maid in the Great 
 House whom she did not envy to-day. 
 
 " Feel about ready to claim your property, my 
 girl?" 
 
 The captain's head appeared above the deck, and the 
 remainder of the man followed the head out of the ves- 
 sel's interior. Aveline raised her eyes, shining with 
 tears, to the speaker's face. 
 
 " Nay, nay, lass," he said ; " put a stout heart against 
 sorrow." 
 
 The girl's lip quivered. The heart had need to be 
 stouter than the one that ached so sorely within her, to 
 be strong enough to meet the sorrow that was closing 
 about her. 
 
 " I judged them chests had to be got ready to accom- 
 pany their owner," said the captain. " I didn't flatter 
 myself you'd affection enough for Geoffrey Crandal to 
 be thinkin' of leavin' them behind as a mark of friend- 
 ship." 
 
 The captain was making such a prodigious effort to be 
 at his ease, that his uneasiness was apparent through 
 every word. 
 
 The mistiness about Aveline's eyes cleared. She 
 looked at the speaker fixedly.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 143 
 
 " Was there any immediate need for bringing them 
 up? " she asked, while a cold, creeping fear touched her 
 heart. 
 
 " Aye, there was." 
 
 "When? " she said. 
 
 " In two hours." 
 
 " So soon ! " 
 
 She stood looking in his face, not knowing that she 
 was looking. She was thinking that the comparative 
 safety of life on shipboard was over. The ship-master 
 did not know what she was thinking. He was thinking 
 that he wished himself well out of a business that was 
 lowering his opinion of Geoffrey Crandal at every move. 
 He shifted his position, with a view to getting out of the 
 range of Aveline's eyes. 
 
 " Well, don't you want to know what a rare good bar- 
 gain I've made for you?" he asked. 
 
 He was uncomfortably certain that the best would 
 seem bad enough to his listener. She turned slightly, 
 so that her eyes again rested on his face, but beyond 
 that movement she made no answer. 
 
 " I never was much of a boaster," continued the ship- 
 master, " but if there's a man on earth can beat Geof- 
 frey Crandal at a bargain, I've yet to find him. Young 
 Geysbert Feljer hadn't been dealin' with me long before 
 he learned that to buy from Geoffrey Crandal the ser- 
 vices of a maid who was thoroughly well able to turn 
 mistress on occasion, he'd have to give in to terms that 
 were to the advantage of the girl. Aye, and I screwed 
 him up to my time before I was done with him. Not a 
 day over five years have you got to serve, and you may 
 thank Geoffrey Crandal for that." 
 
 " Five years ! " Aveline echoed his words. 
 
 "Aye, five years. What better would you ask? 
 *Tis puttin' your services higher than the service of 
 maid was ever placed in this land, I'll wager."
 
 144 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Five years ! Just now it looked like a lifetime. 
 Aveline could not see beyond it. 
 
 "And your money is paid? My brother is no longer 
 in your debt? " she asked, after a long silence. 
 
 " It's all paid. You're out of debt now, both of you." 
 
 ** It is at least a comfort that you " have not been de- 
 frauded," she said, and she went to put together the 
 rest of her possessions. 
 
 It was all over. There was no more any hope, but 
 there had come instead the quiet of despair. With the 
 certainty of the evil, there was deliverance from the sick- 
 ening suspense of the last week. 
 
 Before the two hours had expired Aveline was on 
 deck, awaiting her purchaser. She saw his eyes search- 
 ing for her before he stepped on to the vessel's planks. 
 He came over to her, and stood looking down upon her. 
 He was tall enough to need to look down. There was 
 something in his face beside admiration to-day. A 
 certain critical scrutiny, a weighing of the points of his 
 bargain, an unmistakable air of appropriating his pos- 
 session — all these were apparent. But the admiration 
 was none the less the predominating expression. 
 
 "Well, young maid," he said, in a tone that was pur- 
 posely light, "and so your brother has not yet put in 
 an appearance, and our good captain has deemed it 
 necessary to come to a decision." 
 
 " You speak truth, sir, more's the pity," said Aveline. 
 
 " Pity for you, but right well I know there'll be tliem 
 that will find it anything but a pity," he said. " And 
 are all these chests to journey with us up the river? " 
 
 " They are mine," said Aveline, " and I know not 
 where else to bestow them. I had hoped " — her voice 
 broke for a moment — "I had expected that I should 
 have kept house for my brother," she continued more 
 firmly. " Their contents would then have been of ser- 
 vice."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 145 
 
 "Verily, it seems not improbable that you may be 
 called upon to keep house for one more fortunate than 
 your brother," said the young man. " The hearts of 
 our youths are not proof against the charms of beauty." 
 
 The movement with which Aveline turned from him 
 and looked out across the water might have been in- 
 terpreted as simply a farewell gaze in the direction of 
 her home. Geysbert Feljer did not, however, so inter- 
 pret it. His next words were strictly in the line of 
 business. 
 
 " How soon can you be ready to go on the yacht? " 
 he said. " We have little time to lose." 
 
 " I am ready now," replied Aveline, turning again 
 towards him. " I would not keep j^ou, but I have one 
 request that I would make, so that I may know what 
 message to leave for my brother. When he shall return, 
 with full ability to refund the money you have paid to 
 Captain Crandal, could he — would it be possible to 
 cancel this agreement, and give me my freedom again? " 
 
 She saw the shadow that came over his face, and 
 noticed the harder curves about his mouth. His answer 
 was not given to her. He turned to the ship-master. 
 
 " Nay," he said, " if that's how it stands, you'd better 
 hand out that money, captain. I deemed you had full 
 power to sell for the time agreed upon. What should 
 my mother be wanting with a maid who would go from 
 her before she had well learned her duties? Little sense 
 would there be in taking this maiden up the river for 
 the simple pleasure of sending her down again. If I 
 buy a maid, I want a maid." 
 
 " And what more do you desire than the maid you've 
 got?" asked the ship-master wrathfully. "As for the 
 right to sell, I should like to know who has a better." 
 
 " But if this maiden would reserve the privilege of a 
 release at any time she may desire the same, the pur- 
 chase is of little value to me," said the young man.
 
 146 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 "Yet I do not wish to press her unduly. This is a 
 matter for her and you to decide between you." 
 
 " I am acting according to my agreement with her 
 and her brother. Is not that the case?" asked the 
 captain of AveHne, 
 
 "Yes; it is according to agreement, but — " 
 
 "'But' will not bring me my money," said the ship- 
 master. " The question is, are you ready to stand by 
 your brother's bargain?" 
 
 " I have no choice," said Aveline, " for surely I 
 would not defraud you." 
 
 " There, you hear that. What more have you to 
 say?" demanded Captain Crandal of the young man. 
 
 " Nothing," was the reply. " My girl, when you are 
 ready, we will go," 
 
 His manner was gentle, as if he were sorry for the 
 pain he was causing. 
 
 Aveline moved a step forward. 
 
 " Captain Crandal, you will let my brother know 
 where I have gone," she said. 
 
 "Trust me for that. If I'm not here, I'll find the 
 means to communicate with him right enough. You'll 
 soon see the lad again, never fear. And when you 
 want to know just what terms Geoffrey Crandal has 
 made for you, give a look at this paper." 
 
 It was a copy of the terms of sale, the same obtrusive 
 square of paper that had troubled Geoffrey Crandal from 
 the moment it came into his possession. 
 
 It was inevitable that in accompanying her owner to 
 the vessel which was to take them further up the Hudson, 
 Aveline should interpret the curious glances of the 
 strangers she met as signs of contempt for the bond-ser- 
 vant. They were free men and women, raised by that 
 fact to another plane than that of the negro slave or the 
 white bond-servant. Aveline knew nothing about their 
 views on the subject, but she felt the sting of her bondage,
 
 FREE TO SERVE 147 
 
 and her own sense of humiliation was enough to inter- 
 pret for her the feeHngs of these comfortable-looking 
 colonial worthies. Geysbert Feljer did his best to put 
 her at her ease. They had some distance to walk to 
 reach the spot where the yacht lay, and as they went he 
 pointed out to her the notable features of the little city. 
 It was not his fault that she could not forget her humili- 
 ation, but his efforts were sadly wasted. Aveline an- 
 swered him quietly and intelligently, relapsing, however, 
 the moment she ceased speaking, into the same hopeless 
 quiet that was suggestive enough of despair to cause 
 Geysbert Feljer some rather sharp twinges of compunc- 
 tion. 
 
 Her face had been very white, but when she followed 
 him on to the yacht, a painful flush suffused it. Some 
 ten or twelve passengers, bound for bouweries inter- 
 mediate between New York and Esopus, were doing their 
 best to interpret the situation. A young and beautiful 
 girl — for there was not one who denied her the title — 
 appearing in the company of Geysbert Feljer, was enough 
 to set them all on the alert. Moreover, it was apparent 
 that she was not there in the character of a visitor to his 
 mother's home. The diffidence of manner, that accepted 
 the position in which she was placed, and was careful 
 not to step beyond it, was plainly mingled with a proud 
 reserve, a holding of herself and her companion in check. 
 The good folks felt that this was not the attitude of friend- 
 ship, and if the girl was not a friend of the family, what 
 was she? It was no wonder Aveline felt the question in 
 every eye ; the inquiry was too decidedly pronounced to 
 pass unobserved. 
 
 There was more than curiosity in the skipper's broad 
 stare. In the list of passengers permitted to pass up the 
 river in his boat was the name of Aveline Nevard, bond- 
 servant. Could this be the wench? He put the matter 
 to the test.
 
 148 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 "Getting home with your purchase?" he asked 
 rudely. 
 
 The young man eyed him from head to foot. Then 
 he turned pointedly away. 
 
 " You will find our river a different kind of stream 
 from your Thames," he said, addressing Aveline, and 
 he led her to the further end of the yacht. The skip- 
 per stared after them. 
 
 " Don't look as if she was much used to the duties of 
 a serving-wench, does she?" he remarked to a by- 
 stander, but this time the words were spoken in the 
 unknown tongue Aveline heard on all sides. 
 
 It does not take long for such news as the skipper 
 had to tell to travel from end to end of a boat, and 
 under the significant glances and open-eyed scrutiny it 
 took all Aveline's self-control to hold herself erect, and 
 preserve such composure of manner as should at least 
 veil her humiliation. Every nerve was tingling with 
 shame, but she forced herself to answer Geysbert Fel- 
 jer's remarks, and to look up the river in the direction 
 in which he pointed. The young man put himself very 
 determinately between her and the passengers, studi- 
 ously ignoring both the looks and words of the latter. 
 Of the words he heard enough to make his manner 
 anything but conciliatory when one and another accosted 
 him. Their cool reception gave the homeward-bound 
 colonists no encouragement to pursue the conversation, 
 and soon the two were left in possession of the spot 
 which Geysbert had chosen for Aveline. 
 
 She could not but be grateful to him for the trouble he 
 was taking. His presence lessened her terror, and with- 
 out reasoning about it, she drew from his manner hope 
 for the future. He was as careful in making arrange- 
 ments for her comfort as if she had been his sister, and 
 by no word or look did he again lay himself open to 
 rebuff. He was trying to allay her fears, and drive the
 
 FREE TO SERVE 149 
 
 hunted look from her eyes. It was not till he had made 
 every provision for her below, and had bidden her good- 
 night with a courtesy in which she could find no trace of 
 anything but kindness and respect, that he threw off the 
 restraint he had put upon himself, and joined the com- 
 pany on deck. Then, when a bowl of punch had been 
 prepared, and the men had stretched themselves on the 
 deck in lazy enjoyment of the cool evening air, his tongue 
 was less reticent, and he atoned for the chilliness of his 
 former greetings, and vouchsafed to be communicative. 
 
 It was a hot night, and the supply of punch was un- 
 limited. The stars were fading before the first streak of 
 dawn when the men turned in, and the gentle wash of 
 the water against the side of the yacht, as she lay await- 
 ing morning and wind enough to fill her sails, was at 
 last the only sound to be heard. 
 
 To Aveline the day which followed that dawn seemed 
 interminable. She could not complain of any neglect 
 on the part of Geysbert Feljer, but more than once she 
 could have wished he had been less attentive. There 
 was something in his manner that had not been there 
 the night before, an intangible something, that was yet 
 real enough and definite enough to make his attentions a 
 source of uneasiness. Once or twice, as he persistently 
 devoted himself to her, Aveline saw a broad and en- 
 tirely undisguised smile on the lips of men with whom, 
 a minute before, he had been in friendly converse. She 
 could not help feeling that they were making merry at 
 her expense, though she did not do Geysbert the injus- 
 tice to believe that any such thought was in his mind. 
 She was too little versed in the ways of the world to 
 associate the punch-drinking, which still went on in a 
 lesser degree, with his altered manner. She only noted 
 the difference, and drew as far back from observation as 
 possible, giving the young man no encouragement to 
 remain near her. But when another night's sociability
 
 I50 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 had had time to produce its effect, even to her unsophis- 
 ticated eyes it was an easy matter to read back from 
 effect to cause. The potations were plainly telling on 
 the young man. His tongue was loosed. Noisy hilarity 
 had taken the place of his former quiet demeanour, and 
 he no longer refrained from paying Aveline those direct 
 compliments that had hitherto been held back by the 
 restraining influence of her manner towards him. 
 
 Towards afternoon the sky became heavy with clouds, 
 and when Esopus was reached, and the passengers who 
 had not already disembarked took their departure, a 
 heavy storm of rain and wind swept across the water, 
 and threatening rumbles of thunder were heard in the 
 west. Aveline went below, and waited in sickening 
 dread. In a few hours the nearest point to the manor 
 house would be reached, and the untried difficulties of 
 her new position would meet her. 
 
 It was almost dark when the yacht neared her last 
 stopping place. She had come beyond Esopus for the 
 sole purpose of conveying Geysbert Feljer and his 
 charge to their destination, and would, if possible, make 
 the return trip before anchoring for the night. Aveline 
 had not seen Geysbert since Esopus was passed. The 
 rain was abating, and she wrapped a heavy cloak about 
 her, and sought a comparatively sheltered spot on deck. 
 There was more room to breathe up here ; she felt less 
 hemmed in and desperate. She stood leaning over the 
 rail, her face hidden from any in the other part of the 
 yacht. Weariness and the terror of the unknown were 
 exercising their influence upon her. The darkness 
 creeping over the world made its way further, and set- 
 tled down upon her soul. Hot, hopeless tears fell un- 
 checked, dropping down into the water. Heavy sobs, 
 which she yet controlled so far that no sound reached 
 beyond her sheltered corner, shook her. For the 
 moment she had abandoned herself to despair. So
 
 FREE TO SERVE 151 
 
 thoroughly had she given herself up to her sorrow, that 
 she did not hear a step coming towards her retreat, nor 
 know that she was not still alone, until a hand was laid 
 upon her shoulder, and Geysbert Feljer stood beside 
 her. 
 
 "What, tears?" he said, bending his head to look 
 into her face. " Truly this is a shabby way to treat 
 your new home, to come to it with those shining eyes 
 all dimmed with tears." 
 
 She made him no answer, unless the turning of her 
 head so that her face was hidden from him might be 
 taken for a reply. He kept his hand on her shoulder. 
 
 " A pretty lass like you should never wear a long 
 face," he said. *' Come now, give me a kiss as a re- 
 ward for my promise, and I swear your life at the manor 
 house shall be one that befits so handsome a maid." 
 
 He made a movement as if he would take that for 
 which he asked. 
 
 Aveline drew herself away with so sudden a wrench 
 that his hand fell from her shoulder. She moved off a 
 step and confronted him. The tears were gone now. 
 He had no longer need to complain of the lack of lustre 
 in her eyes. They were blazing with a light that the 
 storm cloud and night shadows combined could not 
 hide, 
 
 " Sir," she said, in a voice that quivered as much with 
 anger as with the sorrow hardly yet under control, "I 
 know not what your action implies. If you would show 
 your scorn of the bond-servant, you may have the 
 pleasure of knowing that you have succeeded as truly as 
 you desire. Yet in your triumph it might be as well to 
 remember that the serving-maid is a gentlewoman born. 
 As your mother's maid I will endeavour to do my duty, 
 but I do not judge that the conditions of my service 
 give you the right to forget what is due either to your- 
 self or me."
 
 152 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 For the moment Geysbert Feljer was at a loss for a 
 reply. He was abashed and disconcerted. Had he 
 been in the fullest possession of himself, he would not 
 have ventured on such familiarity with one who was 
 comparatively a stranger, even though she happened to 
 be in the peculiar position in which Aveline was placed. 
 He had not meant to offend the girl. His admiration 
 was genuine, and he had but been trying to show it in 
 as open a manner as he desired. He had many a time 
 stolen a kiss from a pretty girl without meeting with re- 
 buff. But if his brain had not been befogged with the 
 effects of his liberal imbibing of punch, he would have 
 remembered not only that this girl was a stranger, but 
 that her dependence, which gave him the opportunity 
 to be thus familiar, made it inevitable that any undue 
 liberty should be to her suggestive of insult. As it was, 
 he was divided between repentance and vexation. 
 
 " Nay, you are unjust," he said, after an awkward 
 silence. "It is not every pretty lass who would feel 
 herself insulted because a man praised her face." 
 
 " Hullo, there, young man ! You and your new 
 possession had better be preparing to get ashore, in- 
 stead of choosing dark corners to exchange confidences 
 in." 
 
 The skipper laughed at his own joke, and poked Geys- 
 bert in the ribs. The young man turned savagely upon 
 him. 
 
 " Get out of the way and attend to your sailing, and 
 let my concerns alone, can't you?" he said. "Who 
 asked you to put your word in, confound you ! " 
 
 " Oh, ho ! That's how the wind blows, is it ?" said 
 the skipper, and went off. 
 
 Geysbert followed him out to the wind-swept side of 
 the deck, and Aveline stood trembling with indignation 
 and dismay. Almost immediately there came the bustle 
 of making the landing, and then the putting ashore of
 
 FREE TO SERVE 153 
 
 her boxes. At that point in the proceedings Geysbert 
 came again to her side. 
 
 " It is raining more than is pleasant," he said, " but 
 we shall have to be going. The skipper is in a hurry to 
 put back to Esopus. It is not a long walk to the house, 
 but the road will be bad." 
 
 His manner was constrained. Aveline could not 
 decide whether he was angry, or simply disconcerted. 
 He helped her off the boat, saw her possessions covered 
 from the rain, and told her he would send one of the 
 negroes down to bring them from the river. Then they 
 started out into the darkness, taking with them a lantern 
 which the skipper had placed at their disposal. The 
 night was very heavy, but now and again a flash of light- 
 ning lit up the scene, and showed Aveline the bridle-path 
 along which they were walking. 
 
 " This is the nearest way to the house," said Geysbert. 
 "There is a wagon-road, but it is not as direct, and 
 to-night the mud would render it well-nigh impassable." 
 
 The walk was not really long, but it seemed so to Ave- 
 line. The manor house stood on an elevation scarcely 
 a mile from the river, while some of the out-buildings 
 approached much nearer. It was at one of these that 
 they stopped. The doors were open, and there were 
 lights enough within to reveal its cavernous depths. To 
 Aveline, whose ideas of a barn were those of her English 
 home, there was something weird in the high, dark struct- 
 ure, within which she caught glimpses of horned heads 
 when the light from the lanterns fell on the cattle in their 
 stalls. Black faces peered out into the darkness, and 
 the rolling eyes of the foremost negro were especially 
 prominent. 
 
 " I will give directions concerning the bringing up of 
 your chests," said Geysbert. " In the meantime you 
 had better step inside." 
 
 He motioned her towards the lighted interior, but the
 
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 stare of those rolling eyes was too much for her courage. 
 She wanted to face as few strangers as possible to-night. 
 
 " Thank you, but I would rather stay here," she said. 
 
 " As you will," he replied, and it was plain that he 
 interpreted her refusal as a reflection upon himself. 
 
 He was gone but a minute. 
 
 " I have just learned that my mother is not at the 
 manor house," he said, returning. " She has gone 
 further up the country to attend a funeral, and will not 
 be back before to-morrow. I am sorry, for your sake. 
 Not that it need distress you at all. If you will come 
 in and wait for a few minutes, I will take you to the 
 house of Ryseck Schredel, who will make you quite com- 
 fortable for to-night." Then, noticing that she still 
 hesitated to enter, he added shortly: "You can go on 
 there at once, if you so prefer. You have but to follow 
 the path to yonder house where the first light appears. 
 That is Ryseck Schredel's. She is the only white woman 
 among our servants." 
 
 The suggestion of womanly sympathy and protection 
 gave Aveline a longing desire to hasten forward to the 
 spot where a friendly light shone into the night. It was 
 but a short distance ahead, and she had no fear of losing 
 her way. 
 
 "If you have no objection, I will go on," she said. 
 " I am very tired." 
 
 Once beyond the barn, however, she began to realize 
 that there was a difference between plunging alone into 
 the darkness, and having her footsteps guided by the 
 lantern which Geysbert had carried low for her benefit. 
 She more than once found herself in a mud-hole before 
 she stood on the doorstep of the house for which she was 
 bound. It was a small house, its gable-end to the road, 
 and from the step where she stood the light was no 
 longer visible. Her knock had to be repeated before 
 the welcome sound of footsteps told her that Ryseck
 
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 Schredel was coming. A sudden upspringing of hope 
 came to her as the steps drew nearer. There was in 
 them at least the promise of shelter from the night and 
 the storm, and protection until the morning. She 
 breathed a sigh of relief when the door was opened, and 
 she saw a stout comfortable-looking Dutchwoman, who 
 carried a shining brass candlestick, holding it high that 
 the light might more effectually reveal her visitor. Her 
 face was a study as she stood steadily regarding the 
 storm-beaten figure upon the threshold. Rain and mud 
 and weariness were not sufficient to hide the girlish grace 
 of the figure, but taken in connection with the fair, fright- 
 ened face, they were startling enough to account for the 
 astonishment which manifested itself in the woman's 
 broad features. She made no sign of welcome, but stood 
 with her candle on a level with her head, and stared at 
 the girl. 
 
 " I .had expected to see Mrs. Feljer to-night," said 
 Aveline, in a voice low and faltering, " but Mr. Feljer 
 tells me she is away, and he bade me ask you to allow 
 me to stay with you until her return." 
 
 She looked into the woman's eyes with a smile that 
 was pitiful in its appeal for help and sympathy, and 
 advanced a step towards her prospective hostess. Only 
 one step, however. Before she could take another the 
 strong hand of the Dutchwoman grasped her shoulder, 
 while the pale blue eyes glittered and snapped with anger. 
 A deluge of words, all in the tongue that seemed to 
 Aveline one of the terrors of her lonely situation, fell 
 upon and about her, and the candle was thrust forward 
 so that its rays shone full upon her feet, all coated with 
 great cakes of mud ready to fall at the next step. On 
 and on rushed the stream of words — a torrent appar- 
 ently without end. Once Aveline made a frantic effort 
 to explain, but her attempt was borne down by the 
 steady outflow of language, and she could only stand,
 
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 frightened and desperate, waiting for the deluge to cease. 
 Instead of ceasing, however, it grew louder and more 
 vehement, and at last the big hand of the Dutchwoman 
 made a sudden forward movement, and Aveline found 
 herself pushed off the threshold, and out into the mud 
 of the road. A further outburst of those pouring, pelt- 
 ing words, no one of which conveyed to the frightened 
 listener any meaning beyond angry denunciation, fol- 
 lowed her into the darkness. 
 
 The irate Dutchwoman had thrust her out with such 
 force that Aveline had some ado to keep herself from fall- 
 ing. As the undiminished flow of her wrath poured out 
 into the night, the girl retreated in dismay, stepping 
 ankle-deep into the mud of a roadway which led past a 
 number of buildings dimly visible ahead. Their walls 
 made a denser shadow across the path, and there were 
 now no more lights to be seen. 
 
 Pulling her feet with difficulty out of the mud, Aveline 
 hurried on, bent only on getting beyond the sound of 
 the angry voice at the open door. She turned her back 
 on it, and literally ran away, where, she did not know. 
 She could not feel safe until she had rounded the corner 
 of a building, and the light from the Dutchwoman's 
 candle was no longer to be seen. True, it was darker 
 here, but it seemed beyond the reach of immediate 
 danger. When she had gone thus far Aveline stopped, 
 for she had no idea what to do next. The rain was 
 falling heavily again, and a distant rumble of thunder 
 had a menacing sound. There was no shelter where 
 she stood, and she moved on in sheer desperation. It 
 seemed scarcely possible to be in a worse predicament 
 than the one in which she found herself. Perhaps some- 
 where there might be a sheltered spot where she could 
 creep in from the rain, and wait till morning. She 
 could just discern the roadway, and the dark forms of 
 buildings that bordered it. Soon she passed beyond
 
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 these, so far as one side of the road was concerned. 
 It seemed to her that she was walking along by an open 
 field, but there was not light enough for her to be sure. 
 She put out her hand and felt a rough post — a part of 
 the fence. Just then a flash of lightning disclosed to 
 her her position. She was, as she had supposed, at the 
 edge of an inclosure, — a small paddock it appeared to 
 her, — but her eyes opened wide with horror as the out- 
 Hne of that field became visible. It was fenced with — 
 what? She shuddered and drew back. Her hand had 
 been touching one of those posts. Was there nothing 
 but terror in this place? 
 
 She retreated a few steps, and then stood still. What 
 next? The Dutchwoman was dangerous, Aveline felt 
 sure of it, and to Geysbert Feljer she could not return. 
 The remembrance of his looks and words was yet too 
 fresh. The darkness and storm were dreadful to her, 
 and this new terror was about her, possibly nearer to 
 her even now than she knew, but she could not go back. 
 
 Again there was a flash of light, and Aveline's eyes 
 turned towards the inclosure. She uttered a sharp cry 
 of terror, for to her, in the gleam that came and went 
 almost before it had revealed the weird scene, it seemed 
 that the place was fenced with skulls. They had the 
 white, bare look, the dead dryness of bones that have 
 been so long exposed to the weather that the very sug- 
 gestion of life has passed away from them. Their reg- 
 ularity added to the horror. There had been one on 
 the top of the post her hand had just touched, and there 
 was one on every post as far as her eye could travel 
 in the momentary survey. They seemed numberless, 
 those ghastly heads — an array of huge, fearful mon- 
 sters of death. How came they there, and what did 
 they betoken? A new horror seemed to meet her at 
 every step. 
 
 Her cry of fear had been the result of overstrained
 
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 nerves. She repressed it almost before it was uttered, 
 but the answer came at the instant, and came in the 
 form of a short, sharp yelp, sounding from somewhere 
 out in the darkness. It was followed by the rushing 
 sound of an animal bounding towards her. Aveline 
 stood still, uncertain whether to regard the approach 
 of the dog as a new danger, or the sign of coming 
 help. He might be savage, and she was a stranger. 
 
 While she waited, she discerned a tiny point of light, 
 that sprang into existence from the distant gloom, and 
 seemed to be coming towards her. It gave her cour- 
 age to speak to the dark object that with a bound and 
 a growl was upon her. At the sound of her voice the 
 growl subsided, and the dog came to a stand, but so 
 close to her feet as to give her a shuddering sense of 
 insecurity. The animal might partake of the gener- 
 ally dangerous character of the place, and be meditat- 
 ing a covert attack. Her voice was low and appealing. 
 It reached other ears than those of the dog, though it 
 was too faint for the words to be distinguished. A 
 sharp whistle summoned the animal from his self-im- 
 posed guard, and he went bounding back to where 
 the point of light was resolving itself into the rays from 
 a lantern carried in a man's hand. Aveline awaited its 
 approach. The sense of human companionship made 
 the lonely night less terrible, yet, as the light came 
 nearer, she could not forbear turning her eyes once 
 more towards those white skulls, as one by one they 
 flashed into sight, and faded again into the general 
 blackness upon the passing of the lantern. 
 
 The stranger approached. He lifted his lantern so 
 that its light fell upon the figure of the girl standing in 
 the rain. 
 
 " What are you doing here, my girl? " he asked, in a 
 tone that, though authoritative, was not unkind. 
 
 " I was seeking shelter, but — these — "
 
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 Aveline shuddered, and glanced again in the direction 
 of the field. 
 
 He did not understand. He was too much occupied 
 with looking at her. 
 
 " You are — you must be — the serving-maid of whom 
 my brother spoke," he said. 
 
 Aveline inclined her head. He noted the gesture, 
 and wondered. 
 
 "Your mistress," — he hesitated — "my mother, is 
 away, but that should afford no excuse for a young maid 
 wandering thus in the darkness." 
 
 She lifted her face, and the light of the lantern fell 
 full upon it. He had not seen it clearly before. Her 
 eyes were dim with tears that did not fall, and her lips 
 trembled as she pressed them together to keep back 
 the expression of her loneliness and fear. He uttered 
 an exclamation of surprise, and his face perceptibly 
 changed. 
 
 " You have lost your way," he said gently, " and the 
 storm has frightened you. Come. I will take you to 
 Ryseck Schredel. She will find you dry clothing, and 
 in the shelter of the good woman's house you will forget 
 the storm." 
 
 Aveline looked into his face. He was like his brother, 
 but younger by some years, and there was an utter ab- 
 sence of that bold recklessness which she had come to 
 fear in the other. Even in that first glance she knew 
 that he would take no undue advantage of her position. 
 
 " Nay," she said, and there was a plaintive ring in her 
 voice that to the young man's ears was an appeal for 
 help, " it was from Ryseck Schredel that I was hastening 
 when I came to — this dreadful place. Your brother bade 
 me seek her, and I went. But she is a fierce woman, 
 and her tongue is rougher than her hand." 
 
 "What! She laid hand on you?" said the young 
 man.
 
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 " She pushed me from her door with force that almost 
 sent me into the mire," said AveHne, with some indig- 
 nation. 
 
 A gHmmer of a smile played about the lips that 
 quickly drew themselves into their normal lines. 
 
 " Ryseck was uncivil," he said. "Yet she is a good 
 woman. Unwittingly you must have offended her, and 
 I know to my cost that when once Ryseck's tongue is 
 loosed, it can wag with energy enough to be a terror to 
 the unfortunate offender. I will return with you, and 
 explain. Possibly she knew not who you were, though 
 my brother said that he had already dispatched one of 
 the negroes to warn her to show you all consideration. 
 I do not wonder that you were afraid. Surely it is a 
 sorry home-coming to be thus lost in the storm." 
 
 " Sir," said Aveline, "would it not be possible to find 
 some other shelter, some shed or outhouse where I 
 should be safe until — Oh, I cannot go there again ! " 
 
 Her self-control gave way. The thought of meeting 
 that fierce Dutchwoman was too much for her shaken 
 nerves. She clasped her hands in entreaty. 
 
 The young man showed signs of surprise, but his 
 voice was, if anything, more gentle than before. 
 
 " You cannot stay here all night," he said. " There 
 is no fit place to shelter you. Unfortunately my mother 
 is away. Were it not so, I would take you at once to 
 the house. But there is no white woman there, and 
 you would possibly find more to fear in the faces of 
 the negroes than in the sharp tongue of good Ryseck 
 herself." 
 
 He stopped, and looked inquiringly at Aveline. She 
 did not speak. A hopeless feeling, a sense of being 
 hemmed in by fate, a conviction that there was no way 
 of escape, was settling upon her. Black-faced slaves 
 in the house, bleached skulls outside, and that old 
 Dutchwoman, with her strong, aggressive arms and her
 
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 angry tongue, as the only alternative — it was a choice 
 of evils. Just now, in the darkness and storm, the 
 prospect looked equally uninviting on every side. 
 
 " Trust yourself to me. I promise you I will bring 
 you to light and safety," said the young man, taking 
 her hand within his own, and moving a step forward. 
 "See, the storm is coming up. You cannot stay here." 
 
 There was kind friendliness in the firm grasp of his 
 fingers, and sympathy in his voice. Aveline surrendered 
 herself to him, and he led her back by the way she had 
 come, holding the lantern so that it revealed the deep 
 pools and treacherous mud. The dog, obedient to a 
 command from his master, followed soberly in the rear. 
 Thus Aveline retraced her steps to the Dutchwoman's 
 house. But not to the front door. Her guide knew 
 better than to take her there. Even he would not be 
 exempt from the outpouring of Ryseck's wrath if he 
 should dare to set foot on her clean step. For it was 
 clean again. Every trace of the mud from Aveline's 
 shoes had been washed away. Ryseck had been down 
 on her knees in the opening, scrubbing and wiping, till 
 water, pure, clean water, without a trace of anything 
 else, shone conspicuously on her step. The young 
 man picked his way round to the back of the house, 
 and stopped before the door of a shed. Even here he 
 stood back as he knocked, careful lest his feet should 
 touch the wooden step. 
 
 " Ryseck ! Good Ryseck ! " he called. He spoke in 
 Dutch, and his voice quickly brought a response. Ave- 
 line could not suppress a shiver of apprehension as she 
 heard again the heavy tread of the Dutchwoman, and 
 waited for the door to be opened. But when Ryseck's 
 eye fell on the girl and her escort, it had in it nothing 
 of its former fierce glitter. She stood looking, from one 
 to the other inquiringly. 
 
 " I have brought you a stranger whom I found flee-
 
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 ing from us as if from a band of the wild men," said the 
 young man. *' She was wandering in the roadway, 
 frightened and wet. I told her that from you she 
 would receive as true a welcome as if my mother her- 
 self were here to look after her." 
 
 He smiled and looked towards Aveline. The woman 
 answered him in vigorous style, and ended by pointing 
 to Aveline's shoes. He shook his head, and said a 
 word or two in response. Somehow, in his voice, Ave- 
 line did not think the strange tongue so outlandish. 
 The Dutchwoman listened, and her face relaxed. A 
 laugh began to play round the wrinkles of her mouth. 
 She replied in a different tone. The young man turned 
 to Aveline. 
 
 " You and Ryseck did not quite understand each 
 other," he said kindly. " Our good Ryseck's objection 
 was not to you, but to the mud you unwillingly brought 
 with you. She is so thorough a Dutchwoman that dirt 
 is to her something more than an abomination. Muddy 
 feet are a sacrilege, especially on her front step, and 
 — our roads are bad." 
 
 He glanced with a comical smile at his own feet, and 
 then at Aveline's. Then he turned to the woman again, 
 and apparently asked a question. For answer came an- 
 other burst of words. He cut them short with a laugh. 
 
 " Will you let me help you to your first experience 
 of Dutch customs?" he said, his eyes twinkling a little 
 as they rested on Aveline. "Real Dutch, not altogether 
 our colonial customs." 
 
 He stooped in the mud and rain, and began to loosen 
 the shoes on Aveline's feet. 
 
 " You will be very welcome when you come without 
 an accompaniment of dirt," he said. "And you must 
 forgive Ryseck if she saw the mud before she looked at 
 you. If she had looked further, I think she would have 
 forgotten the mud."
 
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 His smile was so kind that Aveiine's lips could not 
 but relax. 
 
 " There," he said, when one shoe was ready for 
 removal, " now if you will step out of this, and put the 
 dry foot inside the house, I will set you free from some 
 more of our New York mire." 
 
 The tense look was going from Aveiine's face. When 
 she stood inside, and looked down at her stockings and 
 then up at the Dutchwoman, she could not forbear a 
 smile. The woman nodded and laughed. She said 
 something to the young man. 
 
 " Ryseck says that if you will stand just where you are 
 she will bring you dry clothes," he explained. " Better 
 let her have her own way. She will never be happy 
 until she does. But you must not be afraid of her. 
 Trust yourself to her. She is a good woman, if her 
 tongue is terrible." 
 
 He had taken Aveiine's hand again to help her out 
 of the shoe. He retained it for a moment. 
 
 " Good-night," he said. "To-morrow the storm will 
 have passed, and as for us, we shall not seem quite such 
 heathen to you when you know us better." 
 
 Aveline answered him with eyes that were shining 
 through the tears. But in spite of the tears she was 
 comforted, and she was not sure that even to-night she 
 thought them all heathen.
 
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 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 " '^ "W TELL, what luck? Are decent maids as scarce 
 
 \/\/ as ever?" 
 ▼ T The speaker, a httle, thin elderly lady, with 
 
 small sharp features, and an eye that went to the heart 
 of things at the first glance, alighted nimbly from her 
 horse, waiting for no assistance from the tall son who 
 came to meet her. 
 
 " Scarce enough," replied Geysbert Feljer, looking 
 down at her with a peculiar smile. " But you'll have no 
 further need to complain of their scarcity, at least for 
 five years to come." 
 
 "What? You have brought me one at last? And 
 for five years ? How — surely you have not been fool- 
 ish enough to bring me a bond-servant? " 
 
 "And what if I have?" 
 
 " What if you have? Hear the boy ! Truly a man's 
 head has less that's useful in it than any other recepta- 
 cle of the same size. Haven't I told you over and again 
 that I wanted a maid I could trust? Such a wench as 
 you have brought may be well enough, but we've .slaves 
 in plenty to do the roti^^h work. What should I want 
 with a bond-servant, and for five years too? " 
 
 Geysbert laughed. 
 
 " Surely I'm between two fires," he said. "There's 
 Helmer here vexing his soul that I have bought and 
 paid for a damsel too delicately nurtured for contact 
 with such rough mortals as ourselves, and you disturb- 
 ing your peace of mind with the anticipation of a coarse 
 untutored wench, fit only for intercourse with slaves. 
 The next time I move heaven and earth to find me a
 
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 maid, I venture to predict it will be only myself I shall 
 attempt to please." 
 
 "Helmer? What has he to do with it?" said the 
 lady. " He has not been to New York to waste money 
 over useless maids." 
 
 She spoke sharply, but she smiled as she met the eye 
 of her younger son, who stood with one hand resting on 
 the neck of his father's horse. The old man, for he was 
 some years older than his wife, was taller than either 
 of his sons. He rode a large horse, and the appearance 
 of both horse and rider spoke much for the good cheer of 
 the land. Pieter Feljer had been in his day a splendid 
 specimen of Dutch manhood, and his day was not yet 
 fully over. He was a trifle bent, a little less sprightly than 
 in his young years, but he could hold his own yet 
 with the later generation. His blue eyes were twink- 
 ling merrily at the encounter between Geysbert and his 
 mother. 
 
 " Better look at the maid, and judge for yourself," he 
 said, but his words were not in the language in which 
 the others had spoken. Pieter Feljer was a Dutchman 
 through and through, and though he could on occasion 
 speak in the tongue that was gaining ground in the land, 
 its sounds were not at home on his lips. 
 
 " Little good looking will do, since Geysbert has 
 been foolish enough to pay the price," was the answer. 
 " What the lad could have been thinking of to do such 
 a deed is more than I can tell." 
 
 " Geysbert, tell your tale and done with it," said the 
 younger brother. " What is the use of arousing fears 
 that are without foundation?" 
 
 " Not I," said Geysbert stoutly. " I have been ac- 
 cused of folly. Let my action speak for itself. Pm 
 going to fetch the damsel." 
 
 He started off with a swinging step that carried him 
 rapidly down the hill upon which the house stood, and
 
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 left Helmer to explain or not, as he chose. The young 
 man had not much to tell. He had found Geysbert 
 particularly uncommunicative on the subject. When 
 he left Ryseck Schredel's door on the previous night, 
 he naturally sought his brother, anxious to learn more 
 about the girl whose evident terror had appealed to 
 him strongly. He found Geysbert out of temper, and 
 not quite in a state to give a clear account of either 
 himself or his charge. By dint of questioning he 
 learned something of Aveline's story, but when he vent- 
 ured on the opinion that it would have been more mer- 
 ciful to have left her where she was, Geysbert turned 
 on him fiercely. 
 
 "Much you know about it," he said. "You'd be 
 soft-hearted enough, I doubt not, to refuse the bargain 
 yourself, and leave it to one who would know better 
 how to use it. The girl may think herself fortunate 
 that she has fallen into honest hands." 
 
 And then he went off in a rage, and Helmer had not 
 approached the subject again. 
 
 Madame Feljer shook her head over the story. 
 
 " I doubt the foolish lad has made a sorry bungle of 
 his bargaining," she said. " A pretty face, forsooth ! 
 'Tis a steady, hard-working maid I want. A stuck-up 
 manner and a handsome face will not bring me the 
 value of my money." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Give the lad a chance to show whether 
 or not he be in the right," interposed her husband. 
 " Surely it is one-sided work to judge him unheard." 
 
 It was not long before Geysbert returned — alone. 
 
 " Your curiosity will have time to sharpen itself," he 
 said. "The fair maid is missing. She went out almost 
 an hour ago, Ryseck says towards the river. Our new 
 possession bids fair to afford some diversion." 
 
 He spoke lightly, but in reality he was not a little per- 
 turbed. He believed that Aveline had made an attempt
 
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 to escape, and he felt himself to blame. He did not 
 doubt that he had been in part responsible for her terror 
 the night before. He would have gone to Ryseck's 
 house earlier had not pride stood in his way. The girl 
 had refused his escort, and chosen to be offended at his 
 advances. He had felt inclined to leave her to herself, 
 to let circumstances teach her her mistake. Now he 
 was vexed, and a little afraid — for Aveline's sake. He 
 well knew that any attempt to escape could only prove 
 disastrous to the girl herself 
 
 " A pretty piece of business this ! " said the little Dutch 
 lady, with a keen look into Geysbert's face. " What 
 kind is the girl, that she thus attempts to run off without 
 reason ? " 
 
 " Oh, the girl's right enough," said Geysbert shortly. 
 " She has but taken fright at Ryseck's strength of lung. 
 Ten to one she's not far off, and will be glad enough to 
 return. But if not, so much the better for your peace of 
 mind," he added slily. " You will then not be troubled 
 with a bought maid." 
 
 " Can you name the time when I shall not be troubled 
 with a foolish lad? " said his mother sharply. " Go you 
 and look for the wench, and bring her here to me." 
 
 Geysbert's face was not quite pleasant to look upon 
 as he turned away from the house. He was vexed with 
 himself, and therefore angry with Aveline. He passed 
 several of the slaves, but he would not condescend to ask 
 them whether they had seen the girl. If he had done 
 so, he might have learned that he was going in the wrong- 
 direction. They could have told him, for Aveline had 
 passed their quarters, walking away from the river. 
 Such of them as were there had trooped out to look 
 at her, their faces broad with curiosity. 
 
 As for Aveline herself, she had no thought of awaken- 
 ing either suspicion or curiosity. She had slept long, 
 and, it seemed to her, late. The excitement of the night
 
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 had drawn on her resources, and nature was taking 
 revenge. When she awoke, the sun was high, and she 
 experienced the sensation of being abed in the middle 
 of the day. It was not as late as that, yet it was late 
 enough for breakfast to be over in Ryseck's kitchen, and 
 for the good woman to be about her work. 
 
 Aveline's first impulse was to go to the window. In 
 spite of her reasonings with herself, she expected to see 
 some weird spot, where nature and man were alike sav- 
 age. What she saw was a large roomy-looking house 
 set on a hill. It stood at some distance from Ryseck's 
 cottage, and was approached by a long grassy slope, 
 broken witli trees. The first impression it gave was one 
 of openness. The wide piazza which sheltered its long 
 front was deep enough for a dwelling place, and the 
 broad hillside stretched from its door into cultivated 
 fields, down to the level where Aveline knew the Hud- 
 son flowed, though she could not see it fro^i where she 
 stood. When she turned towards the back of the house 
 there came to her a comfortable feeling of shelter. A 
 low hill, that yet overtopped the height upon which the 
 manor house was built, shut it in from the westerly 
 winds, and formed a barrier between this cultivated spot 
 and the great unbroken land lying far to the west. It 
 was a wooded eminence that ran back towards the 
 higher hills, a link between the cleared land below and 
 the great stretch of forest behind and above. Of the 
 forest itself there was no end. It started on the foot- 
 hills, which seemed to surround the place, and mounted 
 up and up till it crowned the mountain background of 
 the picture. In spite of herself Aveline felt the peace 
 and beauty of the scene stealing over her. Here, surely, 
 was no savage land. 
 
 The picture showed no trace of life, until, as she was 
 turning to go down-stairs., Geysbert Feljer came round 
 the side of the house. An unacknowledged feeling of
 
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 disappointment came with the conviction that he was 
 bound for Ryseck's cottage. Aveline had half expected, 
 she could not have told why, that his younger brother 
 would have been the first to greet her. 
 
 She went cautiously down the stairs. Ryseck Schre- 
 del, with her Dutch tongue, was still to her the embodi- 
 ment of danger. She was not certain that she might 
 not unwittingly commit some new and heinous trans- 
 gression, and draw upon herself a fresh outburst of the 
 Dutchwoman's wrath. 
 
 Ryseck was in the kitchen, apparently engaged in a 
 careful search for some treasured but lost possession. 
 Aveline's first impulse was to offer assistance, for the 
 Dutchwoman was down on hands and knees, laboriously 
 poking a sharpened stick into the cracks of the boarded 
 floor. Before she could set foot on the threshold, how- 
 ever, Ryseck looked up and frantically waved her back. 
 Then Aveline perceived that, although the Dutchwoman 
 was searching for something, it was not for treasure. 
 The good woman was only waging her usual warfare 
 against dirt, trying to keep her portion of the world 
 clean by poking out the dust that in minute portions 
 had gathered in the cracks. The poking process was 
 followed by a vigorous scrubbing with soap and water, 
 and not until the last bit of floor was rubbed till it 
 shone, did Ryseck look up and give the girl a welcom- 
 ing nod. The nod was accompanied by a steady inves- 
 tigating gaze, a manifest weighing of the merits and 
 demerits of the stranger. 
 
 Ryseck understood matters a little more fully than she 
 had done over night. Philip. Schredel, the stolid Dutch 
 husband of good Dutch Ryseck, had been in the barn 
 when Geysbert brought Aveline home, and Philip knew 
 a word or two of English. Moreover, he was of an 
 inquiring mind, and Geysbert's tongue was not altogether 
 unde" the control of his brain that night. Therefore
 
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 Philip was able to tell Ryseck enough to make her 
 desire to know more. She had only her eyes to depend 
 upon, but Ryseck Schredel's eyes were inquisitors not 
 to be despised. They told her the girl was beautiful, 
 not with the beauty of the Dutch girls she knew, though 
 her skin was as fair as that of the most renowned pink 
 and white belle among them. This maiden was some- 
 thing more than fair. The delicate, clear-cut features, 
 and the mass of softest brown hair, belonged to a head 
 that held itself proudly. The girl was a beauty, so 
 undeniably a beauty that Ryseck emphatically shook 
 her head. What did young Geysbert want with a girl of 
 that stamp as a maid for his mother? The good lady 
 needed a maid who would be of use to her. As for this 
 lass — Ryseck shook her head more decidedly. It was 
 clear enough that she was born to be served, and not to 
 serve. 
 
 Aveline felt the disapproval in that head-shaking. 
 She drew herself up a little haughtily. 
 
 But the Dutchwoman's inquisition went further, even 
 to Aveline's eyes, and then she forgot to shake her head, 
 or to continue her scrutiny. She found so much to read 
 in those big brown eyes. Foremost of all she saw the 
 pride — a hurt, smarting pride, that came to the aid of 
 and stood guard over all other emotions — and back of 
 the pride a wistful patience, holding pain and fear in 
 check, while far down beneath them all was a depth of 
 loneliness that touched on despair. The Dutchwoman 
 did not read all these clearly, but she spelt out enough 
 of them to reach her honest, kindly heart, and she ended 
 her scrutiny by taking the astonished girl into a pair 
 of motherly arms, and planting a sounding kiss on her 
 cheek. Then Ryseck laughed and released her, pushing 
 her into a chair, and busying herself with setting break- 
 fast before her. 
 
 It was after breakfast that Aveline grew tired of wait-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 171 
 
 ing, Geysbert had not come, as she expected. But 
 neither had Helmer. The sun was shining invitingly, 
 and there was over her a sort of fascination, which drew 
 her to the scene of her last night's terror. She stepped 
 outside Ryseck's door — the back door. She stood 
 there for a minute, and then turned towards the river. 
 Some strange-looking objects had attracted her atten- 
 tion. Did these people delight in nothing but grotesque 
 or weird arrangements? 
 
 The objects in question formed part of the end wall 
 of a long building, or row of buildings. Afterwards, 
 when she came to the front of the structure, Aveline 
 found that it formed the slaves' quarters. Just now her 
 attention was engrossed by what looked like an attempt 
 at ornamentation. Some thirty-odd hats, — Aveline had 
 the curiosity to count them, — their shapes betokening 
 the various periods to which their better days belonged, 
 occupied prominent positions on the end wall, to which 
 their brims were affixed by nails. As though desirous of 
 adding yet more to their ornamental character, the de- 
 signer of the unique adornment had cut a round hole in 
 the crown of every hat. The effect was peculiar enough 
 to bring a smile to Aveline's lips as she strolled round 
 the long, low building. At the sight of woolly heads 
 and black faces in the doorways she quickened her steps, 
 and, making a circuit, came out again into the road she 
 had followed in the darkness of the previous night. 
 
 After all it was Helmer, and not Geysbert, who found 
 the missing maid. In precisely the same spot where his 
 dog Kip had come across her the night before, he saw 
 her standing. Without giving the action a thought, 
 Helmer came to a stand too. He forgot to move for- 
 ward because he was fully occupied with looking. He 
 could not fairly have been said to have seen her before. 
 The light from his own lantern, and from Ryseck's sput- 
 tering tallow candle, had not been sufficient to show
 
 1/2 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 fully the sweet girlish face, with features perfect enough 
 for beauty, and not too perfect for that peculiar charm 
 to which a little imperfection is essential. The colour 
 had returned to Aveline's cheeks, and a half smile played 
 on her lips. Her hand was resting on one of the self- 
 same posts from which she had recoiled in horror the 
 previous night, and her face was upturned towards — a 
 skull. She had not been mistaken, yet she smiled. 
 The light of awakened interest was in her face. For the 
 moment she had forgotten herself and her fate, and it 
 was upon the Aveline of Eastenholme that Helmer was 
 looking. Not once had Geysbert seen her thus. Her 
 eye swept round the paddock, the fence of which was 
 uniformly ornamented with those white emblems of death. 
 Already to Aveline they were speaking of life rather 
 than of decay, for in and out, using the eyes for doors, 
 came and went a colony of birds, too tame as well as 
 too busy in providing for the families within, to pay 
 any attention to the stranger. Every post was crowned 
 with a skull, and every skull was the habitation of a 
 bird family. 
 
 " You are making the acquaintance of some of our 
 tenants, I see," said Helmer, when he had studied her 
 face so thoroughly that he could not in all conscience 
 watch her longer. 
 
 She turned hastily, and her acknowledgment was a 
 mixture of womanly ease, born of the associations of 
 her life, and a gentle reserve that feared to overstep the 
 bounds of present circumstances. 
 
 For the moment Helmer experienced an unwonted 
 sensation of rusticity, of being weighed down with colo- 
 nial habits and surroundings. In spite of the awkward- 
 ness of her position, there was a grace, a high-bred 
 dignity, about this maiden, that for the first time in his 
 life brought home to the young man the consciousness 
 that there was another circle than the one in which he
 
 FREE TO SERVE 173 
 
 moved, and in which he held a recognized place. Who 
 was she, this girl of whom he must think simply as his 
 mother's maid? 
 
 " They are houses for the birds," she said, and her 
 voice in no way detracted from the charm of her looks, 
 " Last night — " 
 
 " You were startled by them." 
 
 A new light was dawning upon him. He thought he 
 could better understand her fears. 
 
 " I would have explained if I had known," he said. 
 " We must have seemed to you a set of wild people, 
 since we thrust our — visitors — out into the storm, 
 fenced our fields with skulls, and — were there any more 
 dreadful things we did? " 
 
 He was standing quite close to her now, smiling down 
 upon her. Her face flushed at the question. She was 
 thinking of Geysbert. He saw the flush, and the 
 momentary hesitation, and his smile died away. Were 
 they a set of savages, that they had given this girl such 
 cause to think ill of them? She had dropped her eyes 
 to hide her confusion. Now she lifted them again. 
 
 " I was afraid, until — you were good to me," she 
 said. 
 
 " And Ryseck? Did she keep her hands to their 
 legitimate tasks?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes. And she was kind, I think. But I cannot 
 understand a word she says, and I am afraid of making 
 her angry again. She was terribly fierce." 
 
 " Yes. Ryseck has a tongue. I'm not sure, on the 
 whole, that it is not a Dutch possession. But you will 
 know us better soon, and I trust you will find that, like 
 the skulls here, we are not as dangerous as we seem." 
 
 ** Did you put them here on purpose for the birds? " 
 asked Aveline, glad to give the conversation a less per- 
 sonal turn. 
 
 " I am afraid we must not take credit for it at all,"
 
 174 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 was the reply. " It is a fancy the negroes have. The 
 head of every animal that is butchered is sacred to the 
 birds, and little by little the slaves have ornamented the 
 fences in the way they most fully approve of. Truly 
 it must look startling to a stranger. You have seen how 
 they accommodate their tenants nearer home? " 
 
 " No. Oh, you do not mean that all those odd- 
 looking hats nailed to the boards are bird-houses 
 too?" 
 
 " Surely they are. Our negroes are not pretty to 
 look at, but there is something to be said for them. 
 They love the birds, and are fond of everything that 
 has life." 
 
 There was a moment's silence. In it Helmer re- 
 membered that his mother was awaiting an interview 
 with her maid. 
 
 " Last night I was unable to take you to the house," 
 he said. " Now you need no longer depend on Ry- 
 seck's tender mercies. My mother has returned, and 
 will be very glad to see you." 
 
 She gave him one quick look, and the light died 
 from her face. 
 
 "lam ready," she said. "Perhaps — I was wrong 
 to come here." 
 
 " Nay, now you are returning to your evil opinion of 
 us," he said deprecatingly. " My mother herself must 
 reassure you." 
 
 He led her back, not by the road, but across a cor- 
 ner of the field, and by a footpath over the edge of 
 the wooded hill in the rear of the house. Yielding to 
 an instinct of courtesy, he refrained from ascending the 
 broad steps at the back of the building, by which he 
 would have ushered Aveline into the house by a back 
 door. 
 
 " We have a good view of the river from the front 
 stoop," he said, and passed round to the wide piazza.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 175 
 
 stopping a moment to give Aveline time to combat the 
 shrinking fear that almost overpowered her. 
 
 The door opened into a broad hall, which ran from 
 front to back of the house, and at the first glance Ave- 
 line became aware that the room was tenanted. A lit- 
 tle, elderly lady, with eyes dark and piercing, was sitting 
 in a high-backed chair. Her hands, small and shapely, 
 held a piece of knitting, and though she looked sharply 
 towards the door, her fingers did not cease their quick 
 movement. 
 
 " Mother, I have brought you a stranger, who, if I 
 mistake not, is in need of your comfort, as you are in 
 need of her help. She has formed but a poor opinion 
 of us in her short experience in our midst." 
 
 Helmer advanced towards his mother as he spoke, 
 and Aveline courtesied low. 
 
 " Is this — the maid of whom your brother spoke? " 
 
 The little lady was on her feet, steadily surveying 
 this specimen of English youth and birth so suddenly 
 introduced into her presence. 
 
 " This is the maiden," said Helmer quietly. 
 
 There was a long silence. Aveline ventured at length 
 to raise her eyes. The lady was still regarding her with 
 unflinching gaze, and as she met the clear, sharp eyes, 
 a wave of colour spread over the girl's face. 
 
 " And what are you doing here, my lass, in the char- 
 acter of a bond-servant ? " asked the lady, in a voice clear 
 and penetrating, the sort of voice that commands an 
 answer. 
 
 The flush on Aveline's face deepened. 
 
 " I am trying honestly to discharge a debt that came 
 to my brother and myself by reason of unforeseen cir- 
 cumstances," she said, in a low, firm tone. 
 
 "And what do you suppose you can do for me?" 
 asked the lady. 
 
 " Madam, that is for you to say," replied Aveline. " I
 
 176 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 will try to do all that you desire. In the " — Great 
 House, she would have said, but she changed the ex- 
 pression quickly — " house of my aunt, I have had some 
 experience in the management of the maids, and I am 
 not unskilled in housekeeping duties." 
 
 Madam Feljer, as the tenants styled her, made no an- 
 swer, unless the sweep of her eyes over the face and 
 figure of the speaker might be accounted an answer. 
 
 After her last words Aveline stood still, with that per- 
 fect stillness which comes of having muscles and limbs 
 under the control of a steady, trained will. She was on 
 inspection, and she awaited the verdict. It did not 
 come, for the door at the other end of the great, roomy 
 hall opened, and a fine, portly Dutch gentleman, with 
 large, kind, blue eyes, stood in the opening. For a 
 minute he too stood silent; then he entered. 
 
 "Whom have we here?" he asked, and though he 
 spoke in Dutch, Aveline felt the friendliness of the tone. 
 
 The answer came from Helmer. Then the master of 
 the house advanced. 
 
 " You are welcome, my dear," he said, in measured 
 tones, as if the English words came painfully. " Pretty 
 faces are not so plentiful in this land that we cannot 
 well find room for another." 
 
 He came towards her, and held out his hand. Aveline 
 placed hers in it. She felt the fatherly kindness in his 
 tones. 
 
 " This is my new maid," said madam, in Dutch. 
 
 " Maid or mistress, I care not a straw," was the an- 
 swer. " She is a maid worth having, that I'll swear." 
 
 " Little you know about it, beyond the fact that the 
 lass has a pretty face," was the contemptuous answer. 
 But madam turned to Aveline and said : " Since I am 
 to take you into my service, I must needs know your 
 name." 
 
 " It is Aveline Nevard," was the reply.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 177 
 
 " Truly it sounds not like a name that belongs to the 
 people," said the lady. 
 
 " At home all know it as an ancient name," replied 
 Aveline quietly. 
 
 "And your branch of the family? Is it gentle or 
 simple? " 
 
 " My father was the younger son, my uncle inherited 
 the title," said Aveline. 
 
 "Title? Come you of titled people?" 
 
 Aveline simply inclined her head. 
 
 " There must be something wrong here," said the lady. 
 " Some sin is at the bottom of such an incongruity." 
 
 Aveline drew herself up proudly. 
 
 "Madam," she said, "if you are dissatisfied with the 
 arrangement, I doubt not that in a few days my brother 
 will appear, and then it would be a kindness — how 
 great you cannot know — to cancel the agreement. 
 My brother would gladly pay anything extra you may 
 desire, if he might see me free again." 
 
 " Tut, tut ! Not so fast. I'm not sure I am tired of 
 my bargain yet," was the reply. " A maid's a maid, 
 and if you can be useful, I'm enough in want of one to 
 keep you to your bargain." 
 
 " And kind enough to give her a welcome." 
 
 "Welcome — yes, if she wants it." 
 
 Madam held out her hand. 
 
 " Come, young maid, let us be friends till we find 
 some good reason for being foes," she said. " Come 
 with me and see what sort of a house you have to over- 
 look. There, don't look so scared. I'm not going to 
 eat you. I don't know but that we can find you a 
 decent room." 
 
 She led the way, and Aveline followed. As she 
 passed through one of the doors the girl turned, and by 
 a little sweeping inclination of the head acknowledged 
 the kindness of both father and son.
 
 178 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE sun was pouring slanting rays of heat into an 
 already overheated atmosphere. He had been 
 relentless all day, and now, when the end of his 
 fierce reign approached, and he slowly yielded ground 
 before the night, he seemed to take a savage pleasure 
 in striking with his fiery beams the leaves hanging 
 motionless on the trees, and the limp, hopeless herbage 
 that appeared fairly to gasp in the baked air. Even 
 the broad bosom of the Hudson was hot and lifeless, 
 until, from out the shadow of overhanging trees, shot a 
 canoe, which made a ripple on the water, and brought 
 a suggestion of coolness. 
 
 Of all the objects upon which the sun just then tried 
 his power, the taller occupant of the canoe was appar- 
 ently the least affected by the heat. Big drops dripped 
 from the brow of his companion, whose glistening black 
 face showed signs of distress, but the long arm of the 
 other moved easily. He was a man of middle age, tall 
 and browned, and the lips that stirred to give a word of 
 direction to the negro settled again into firm lines. 
 There was no other boat on the river, nor sign of life 
 along its banks, but overhead a hawk hovered for a 
 minute, and then sailed away towards the dark line of 
 mountain just here in full view. The canoe made rapid 
 headway, and the black outline of forest along the west- 
 ern shore gave place to cleared land and fields brown 
 with stubble, till, upon the brow of a hill, a house was 
 seen, keeping guard over its own bit of civihzed world. 
 " A goodly cage, but none the less a prison," said the 
 stranger, looking long at the dwelling. " Mischief take 
 the lad ! If I'd had any notion of what was coming, I'd
 
 FREE TO SERVE 179 
 
 have left him in his first plight. Far enough from here 
 he'd have been then, and the maid — " 
 
 He broke off with a word of command, and the canoe 
 shot in towards the bank. Before it touched land the 
 stranger sprang ashore, stood for a minute reconnoitring, 
 then gave a few clear, rapid directions to the negro, and 
 strode off into a wagon-track that led towards the house. 
 Midway between the river and dwelling he met a young 
 man. 
 
 " Good-day to you, sir," he said in Dutch. " Is not 
 yonder the Feljer manor house? " 
 
 " It is," replied the young man coldly. " What may 
 be your business there? " 
 
 " If so be that I am speaking to one of the family, it 
 may possibly happen that I have none," was the answer, 
 " since in that case you can tell me whether there be 
 here a young English maiden, by name Aveline Nevard." 
 
 " And what if there should be? " said Geysbert, ey- 
 ing him suspiciously. 
 
 " In that case I must even go on to the house, for my 
 business is both with the maid and her mistress," was the 
 answer. 
 
 "What do you want with either one or the other? " 
 asked Geysbert. " I know of none who has claim on 
 the maiden except her brother, and the eyes of a blind 
 man would suffice to tell him that you stand not in that 
 relationship." 
 
 " Truly you are not far wrong. I lay no claim to be 
 the brother of any fair maiden," said the other, with a 
 laugh, " yet it would be instructive to learn on what 
 foundation you build your superstructure of opinion." 
 
 " Your question shows either a complete want of ac- 
 quaintance with the maiden for whom you inquire, or 
 else an overweening conceit," said Geysbert shortly. 
 
 The face of the other grew grave. 
 
 "You are right," he said. " I am nothing but plain
 
 i8o FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Roger Bennet, a trader with the Indians, and the maiden 
 is of gentle birth. I am relieved that you have esti- 
 mated her at her true value, and that her position is 
 already known to you. The fact should make my mis- 
 sion the easier." 
 
 " Your mission? What is it? " 
 
 " To take her from a false position, and restore her to 
 her brother's care," said Roger. 
 
 He spoke quietly, but his eyes were scanning Geys- 
 bert's face. 
 
 "You come a full two weeks too late," replied Geys- 
 bert angrily. "The maid is bought and paid for. If 
 her brother needed her, he should have come to her 
 rescue sooner." 
 
 " He lies at Albany with a broken leg, and lay thus, 
 a stranger among us, with none to do his bidding, until 
 I returned from a journey among the Indians," said 
 Roger. "I come empowered to buy back the maiden, 
 and compensate you for all expense to which you have 
 been put." 
 
 *' A likely thing," exclaimed Geysbert savagely, " that 
 in a land where maids are scarce my mother should 
 give up the services of one whom she has partially 
 trained ! It was his own lookout if her brother broke 
 his leg. At least he should know better than to expect 
 to put the consequences on strangers." 
 
 Roger's eyes were bent on the speaker. He made 
 no direct answer to the words. 
 
 "The lady, your mother? Where shall I find her?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " At the house. But I warn you you will have your 
 labour for your pains," replied Geysbert. 
 
 " I will take the risk," said Roger, and walked on. 
 
 Madam Feljer stood in the broad hall in which she 
 always received strangers. Her sharp eyes found their 
 match in the clear, steady gaze of the tall visitor.
 
 FREE TO SERVE i8i 
 
 "Yes, if you choose to put it so, I am selfish," she 
 said, " but not more selfish than a lad who could save 
 himself at a maid's expense. For all I know, the lass is 
 as well off with a selfish old woman as she would be with 
 a selfish young man, and I venture to say she is safer in 
 my protection than in his." 
 
 " And the girl herself ? " said Roger. " Is it no pain 
 to you to inflict suffering? " 
 
 " The lass is a little simpleton, and the simple are 
 ever bound to suffer," replied the lady. " Had she 
 known what was good for her, she would have stayed in 
 her English home. I warrant you she'll suffer less with 
 a steady hand over her, than she would were she at that 
 lad's beck and call." 
 
 " I can urge no argument save that of humanity," 
 said Roger, "and if that will not suffice — " 
 
 " As it will not," interrupted the lady, " since hu- 
 manity is many-sided, and turns to me a face hidden, 
 perchance, from you. I give you this comfort, how- 
 ever, to carry back to the lad, — who, to my mind, de- 
 serves naught but what he has got, — the maid shall be 
 my charge as well as my servant, and if she will it, by 
 reasonable submission to my wishes, the bondage shall 
 be but in name." 
 
 Roger was silent for a minute, and the lady did not 
 speak again. 
 
 " Madam, I thank you," he said at length. " The 
 concession is not that which I sought, yet in your hands 
 I think it will mean much. I ask but one other. Should 
 you desire to rid yourself of the charge, will you give 
 to the friends of the maiden the right to buy her back 
 before you offer her services to any other? This phase 
 of humanity should, I think, present but one face to 
 any beholder." 
 
 " You are right. It is your due. And how, in the 
 event of which you speak, shall I communicate with
 
 1 82 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 you, or with that young fool, — your partner, I think 
 you said ? '' 
 
 " Roger Bennet, Indian trader of Albany, is all the ad- 
 dress that is needed to find me," was the answer, " and 
 right glad I shall be if humanity should turn face, and 
 you should quickly send me the message I desire. The 
 money will not be wanting. And now, for her broth- 
 er's sake and her own, I would see the maid." 
 
 The sun had sent out his last dart, and gone in unre- 
 lenting majesty down behind the mountains. There 
 was a faint breathing of coolness, enough to make the 
 parched plants lift their heads. The breath of the 
 wind, however, was not responsible for the low sobbing 
 sound that might have been heard in the wood beyond 
 the manor house. The rustling among the leaves was 
 caused by the swish of a girl's dress, and a glance at 
 the eyes swimming with tears would have accounted 
 for the rest. It was very still out there. That was why 
 Aveline had come. 
 
 Roger Bennet had gone more than an hour ago, and 
 with him had gone a certain undefined hope that had 
 lurked in Aveline's heart. It had never seemed possi- 
 ble that it could be so, and yet she had sometimes 
 dared to think that when Fulke came her freedom 
 might somehow be obtained. Now she knew that the 
 bondage was inevitable. There was not even the com- 
 fort of seeing her brother. Fulke was ill, and she could 
 not go to him. 
 
 She had drawn from Roger Bennet the whole story. 
 She knew that the young man was not recovering as he 
 should have been. A man of his professional knowledge 
 ought to have known that perfect quiet of mind and body 
 was essential to a speedy healing. But quiet had been 
 the last condition possible for Fulke. He fumed and 
 chafed, and inwardly raged, until he rendered his host 
 as desperate as himself. All this Roger told Aveline,
 
 FREE TO SERVE 183 
 
 but he did not tell her of the wild look in her brother's 
 eyes when he — Roger Bennet — came to his side, long 
 after the time when he had been expected to return. 
 And he did not tell her how the young man's words — 
 a trifle incoherent sometimes — had roused Roger to 
 action. 
 
 " Find her for me, Bennet, and bring her back with 
 you, and you may charge anything you like for your 
 pains," Fulke had said. 
 
 The ordinary mode of travel was too slow to meet the 
 need, as Roger Bennet saw it. He knew, better than 
 Fulke could do, the possibilities wrapped up in that 
 word "bondage," and, because he understood, he had 
 recourse to that which afforded the utmost speed of the 
 day — a canoe journey down the Hudson. He travelled 
 swiftly, but he arrived too late. 
 
 At that moment his canoe was making rapid progress 
 up the river. Down in the wood Aveline was thinking of 
 her brother, and of the hopes that were now all wrecked. 
 Under the circumstances, the tears were not to be won- 
 dered at. She seated herself on the level stump of a tree, 
 and let herself look at fate from the dark side. It was 
 the sound of a step behind that caused her to rise hastily, 
 and walk towards the open land, keeping her head per- 
 sistently turned from the point whence the sound came. 
 
 " Surely the curse of having made ourselves a hunting 
 people is upon us," said Helmer's voice, '* for the inno- 
 cent flee at our approach. Yet we are not always in a 
 ravening mood." 
 
 Intentionally he spoke lightly, but his heart was 
 heavy for this girl. Helmer was to-day in a minority 
 in his own home. In truth, he constituted the minority, 
 since every other member of the family was on the other 
 side. He had declared for yielding to Roger Bennet's 
 request. Possibly the fact that the trader had alread}'
 
 1 84 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 pushed his canoe into the stream when Helmer gave his 
 opinion, made it the easier to give. 
 
 Geysbert was unequivocally on the side of retaining 
 Aveline's services, or was it Aveline's person? The 
 young Dutchman had recovered his temper, and to a 
 certain extent his position with his mother's maid. He 
 could be very agreeable when he chose, and just now 
 he did choose. There were so many things in colonial 
 life of which Aveline was ignorant, and it was only a 
 charity to enlighten her. It was Helmer, though, who 
 had undertaken to make that first terror, the Dutch lan- 
 guage, a familiar thing to her. He was a good teacher, 
 or Aveline was an apt scholar, for already she was begin- 
 ning to find something more than chaotic sound in 
 good Ryseck's strong words, and in the babble of talk 
 among the negroes on the place. 
 
 Aveline's pace slackened when Helmer spoke, but she 
 did not turn her head. The tears were unmanageable, 
 and two that had but lately overflowed were still glisten- 
 ing on her cheeks. They were the first objects Helmer 
 saw when he reached her side. Possibly they accounted 
 for the softening of his voice. 
 
 " Can you not forgive us for being selfish? " he said. 
 " We plead guilty of the sin. But there are extenuat- 
 ing circumstances, though you cannot be expected to 
 appreciate them. You would have to make fresh 
 acquaintance with yourself before you could understand 
 the temptation of holding on to that which even you 
 must admit is no common possession." 
 
 It was a smile that played about her lips, though they 
 quivered a little still. 
 
 " I wish you would let me teach you the Dutch verb 
 ' to forgive,' " said Helmer. " It is not nearly as harsh 
 as some of our words, and on your lips it would even 
 rival your own English language."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 185 
 
 The smile had conquered now, as Helmer intended 
 it should. 
 
 " It is gloomy here in the wood," he said, — and there 
 was no selfishness in the words, for to him the wood was 
 anything but gloomy at that moment, — " shall we walk 
 where the breeze has freer play? Yonder is Tyte, and 
 for the last two minutes he has been screaming my name 
 with all the strength of a fine pair of lungs." 
 
 " He seems to regard you as his especial property," 
 said Aveline, looking' towards the spot where a small 
 negro boy was holding up a big fish, and still loudly 
 clamouring for " Mars'r Helmer." 
 
 " Most certainly he does. Some years ago, when he 
 was a very small boy indeed, he was solemnly made my 
 especial property, and Tyte is quite sure that the arrange- 
 ment is mutual. No sooner did he become my posses- 
 sion, than I was expected, according to negro tradition, 
 to present my small servant with a pair of shoes and 
 some money, and from henceforth I must take him under 
 my wing. In return he sings my praises, and runs at 
 my heels like a dog, and a noisy dog he is." 
 
 " Well, Tyte, what is it?" asked the young man, as he 
 neared the boy and the group of negroes about him. 
 
 " Jest dis," said Tyte, in his best EngHsh, the result 
 of Helmer's teaching. 
 
 " Dis " was a member of the fish tribe, a fine speci- 
 men of a drum. 
 
 " Who caught him? " asked Helmer. 
 
 " Me and Rufe." 
 
 '' Me first, of course," laughed Helmer, giving the 
 boy's saucy cheek a light cuff. Then he turned to Ave- 
 line. "Your countrymen have the laugh on us in re- 
 spect to this and two other fishes," he said. " We call 
 the drum ' dertienen ' — the thirteenth. Tradition says 
 that our first representatives in this land, knowing but 
 ten kinds offish, were excited when in spring they caught
 
 1 86 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 the shad, a species before unknown to them. In their 
 eagerness they named it ' elft ' — eleventh. But soon 
 came the bass, and as they flocked to see it they cried 
 ' twalft,' or twelfth. Our friend the drum came last, and 
 he got the name of ' dertienen.' " 
 
 Aveline laughed, and the small Tyte grinned and 
 showed his white teeth. Then madam's voice sounded 
 from the house, and Aveline turned away, but the dark 
 lines had gone from beneath her eyes, and her step was 
 lighter.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 187 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 "^"W THAT? Tears in my merry maid's eyes? 
 
 \/\/ ^ho has been offending my girl? I'll teach 
 
 ▼ ▼ those youngsters their place, and let them 
 
 know who's master here. Which of them is it, Geysbert 
 
 or Helmer? " 
 
 The owner of the manor house walked briskly over to 
 the fireplace, near which Aveline was standing. The 
 light of the dancing flame shone on her face, and showed 
 suspicious tears. The old man shook his head. 
 
 " I haven't seen a tear on those pretty cheeks for 
 many a day now," he said, " and somebody's going to 
 answer for these, I tell them." 
 
 Aveline smiled, and stretched out her hand. Pieter 
 Feljer took it, and held it in a firm grasp. 
 
 "Which was it? " he asked, and there was a twinkle 
 in his eye. 
 
 " I was foolish," said Aveline. " I allowed myself to 
 think of home and — and Joan. It was in April last 
 year that she was married." 
 
 " And that packet you had from her awhile ago has 
 made you homesick, eh? The anniversary of her wed- 
 ding, and so on. Poor little maid ! 
 
 From the first Pieter Feljer had taken Aveline into 
 his heart. He had not stopped to ask questions. That 
 had been left for his wife. He had surrendered to the 
 girl from the moment when he stood filling up the door- 
 way of the hall, and taking stock of the new maid. 
 
 " Best thing Geysbert ever did in his life, or is likely 
 to do," he had said many a time since. " I didn't 
 think the lad had sense enough to bring home a lass 
 hke that."
 
 1 88 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Madam Feljer had never contradicted his assertion. 
 When she promised Roger Bennet that she would take 
 Aveline under her care, she did not speak without con- 
 sideration. For fourteen days she had studied the girl, 
 watching her with sharp eyes. By the time Roger ar- 
 rived she had come to a decision. She wanted this girl, 
 and she meant to keep her. A young maid was what 
 the manor house most needed, and madam had no 
 daughter. Aveline must stay, but there was no reason 
 why the captive bird should not be taught to sing. The 
 manor house was not an old English mansion, but, in 
 madam's estimation, it was no whit behind any one of 
 them. And if a girl wanted better company than Pieter 
 Feljer's two lads, madam had little respect for her taste. 
 The girl could be happy here if she chose, and in any 
 case there were duties enough to keep her from moping. 
 
 There certainly was no lack of employment in such 
 an establishment as Madam Feljer presided over, and 
 the constant occupation was welcome to Aveline. It 
 helped to bridge over the gulf between the old life and 
 the new. 
 
 Madam had won her point. The bird had learned to 
 sing. Perhaps the knowledge, which came before the 
 winter, that she could not in any case have been Fulke's 
 housekeeper, since his life would at present be too ad- 
 venturous to allow of such a luxury, helped to reconcile 
 her to the manor house ; perhaps, as the days went on, 
 she found the manor house itself not unattractive. Most 
 surely it was the fault of neither Geysbert nor Helmer 
 if she lacked amusement. There was a rivalry — not 
 always friendly — between the two representatives of the 
 house of Feljer. Geysbert was inclined to stand on his 
 dignity as the elder, and assert his rights. 
 
 Pieter Feljer's eyes twinkled many a time as he 
 noticed a certain coldness between the brothers, a stiff- 
 ness of manner that had not always been there.
 
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 " One plum for two mouths is an unsatisfactory 
 morsel," he would say. 
 
 Pieter Feljer was scarcely so old that he had forgotten 
 certain emotions of his younger days. 
 
 His eyes were not twinkling now. They were tender 
 with sympathy. 
 
 " Pity it is we cannot bring the good Joan over to look 
 after her lass," he said. " But we can get up a wedding 
 of our own, perchance as gay a one as Joan herself 
 could boast of, and make this April a rival to the last." 
 
 Aveline's answering glance was a little doubtful. She 
 was not quite sure how his words were to be taken. 
 
 "What? Has not madam told you? Verily she is 
 chary of her good news, or she would have let you know 
 that Fytje Roseboom and Jurian Opdyke are soon to be 
 made happy, and madam is to give a chaise-party in 
 honour of the young people. That will surely be new 
 to you, my dear, something to bring back the smiles to 
 this fair face." 
 
 He pinched her cheek as he spoke. It was not neces- 
 sary now that his words should be in English. Helmer's 
 teaching had proved very successful, and the Dutch 
 tongue was to Aveline no longer a source of mystifica- 
 tion. It was in that language she answered now. Pieter 
 liked to hear it from her. He smiled as he looked back 
 from the door, and saw her standing by the fire, a bit of 
 brightness amidst the dark browns and blues of the big 
 room. But when he was gone her face grew grave again. 
 There were times when the old memories overpowered 
 present associations, and made the girl long for Joan's 
 motherly arms, and Sir Julian's protecting care. She 
 had long ago ceased to be afraid. Looking back, she 
 knew that her fears had begun to vanish from the 
 moment when the dog Kip brought Helmer to her 
 rescue, but the homesickness was not so easily cured. 
 From Joan Aveline's thoughts went to Fulke. Madam
 
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 Feljer had stopped saying unpleasant things about the 
 young man since the day when she had an opportunity 
 to say a few unpleasant things to him. Fulke had not 
 been exactly polite on that occasion. He was too much 
 in earnest to pick his words. They came, hot and 
 uncompromising — an appeal that was almost a demand. 
 He did not escape the natural consequences of his direct 
 speaking. Madam took occasion to express a few opin- 
 ions, and do a little plain talking on her own account. 
 For the first time in his life, perhaps, the young man 
 listened to straightforward, unflattering comments on 
 himself without attempting excuse. Neither in word 
 nor thought did he try to shift the blame. Now that the 
 deed was irrevocable, he felt it past extenuation. 
 
 " You are right, madam," he said. " My sister is 
 guilty of displaying more affection than discretion in 
 trusting herself in my hands. She seems to be generally 
 unfortunate in finding protectors who have their own 
 purposes to serve." 
 
 " Speak for yourself, young man," was the answer. 
 " Right well the accusation fits you, I doubt not, but till 
 you have proved yourself better fitted for the charge, it 
 is at least a question whether there be not as much 
 wisdom as selfishness in keeping under my care a lass 
 so little able to stand out against a reckless lad's de- 
 mands. Go you to work, and show yourself a man fit 
 to be trusted, and leave the girl where she has the safe- 
 guard of an old woman's guidance — selfish guidance, 
 if you please, but little likely to land her where your 
 foolhardy action brought her." 
 
 Fulke was at that moment on the broad seas, en- 
 deavouring to put that advice into action. He was on 
 his way home in a vessel owned by Roger Bennet, 
 returning from a business trip to the West India islands, 
 where he had exchanged his cargo of flour and provi- 
 sions for rum and molasses.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 191 
 
 Aveline was wishing him a safe, but not altogether a 
 speedy voyage. For reasons of her own she hoped that 
 the bark might be a few days yet before she reached 
 her port. For Aveline herself was expecting soon to 
 be in the port of New York, and the city would lose its 
 chief attraction if she should not meet her brother there. 
 The coming wedding was almost forgotten, until madam 
 set her to making sugar-plums for the occasion. 
 
 "We will give Jurian and F>'tje a fine Dutch chaise- 
 party," she said, " and the tenants and the slaves shall 
 not be robbed of their largess." 
 
 " What is a chaise-party? " asked Aveline, and madam 
 laughed, and told her to wait until it came, and she 
 would know. 
 
 The morning of the chaise-part>' proved so bright and 
 clear, with such a warmth of spring in the air. that Ave- 
 line felt any form of out-door life to be acceptable. The 
 prospective bride and groom, the latter the son of a 
 neighbouring land-owner, came early to the manor 
 house, for a chaise-party was one of the most favoured 
 of the festivities of that gay fortnight which pertained to 
 the wedding pleasures. 
 
 When Aveline saw the little chaises, with their high 
 wheels, and narrow seats each to be furnished with a 
 maiden and a lad, she began to understand the meaning 
 of a chaise-party. There had been a little covert rail- 
 lery at the expense of the young men of the manor 
 house that morning. Pieter Feljer's eyes twinkled again, 
 and once or twice madam's flashed. But when she 
 paired off her guests, madam bestowed on Helmer a 
 blooming Dutch maiden, with large quiet eyes and a 
 perfect complexion, and packed Aveline into a chaise 
 grand with carving and gilding, painted with such won- 
 derful scenes that it could be nothing less than an heir- 
 loom, and installed Geysbert on her left side as driver. 
 The chaise was the last in the row of eight which drew
 
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 up along the broad road by the manor house door, while 
 eight exultant swains, seated on the left sides of eight 
 expectant maids, passed their right arms about the 
 ladies' waists, as in duty bound to do on such an occa- 
 sion. It scarcely needed a touch of the whips to bring 
 the horses to an understanding of their duty. The fore- 
 most chaise shot ahead, away dashed the whole line in 
 pursuit, and the chaise-party was in full progress. 
 
 To shower down sugar-plums on the heads of the 
 open-mouthed negroes, who rushed out in a body to 
 see the brave sight, was one of the joys of the occasion. 
 The girls laughed, and the youths shouted, and as each 
 house was reached, the tenants turned out to enjoy the 
 fun. Again the sugar-plums came into requisition, and 
 Aveline understood why madam had insisted on a lib- 
 eral supply. 
 
 There was a bright flush on the girl's cheeks, brought 
 there by the pressure of Geysbert's arm. Two couples 
 ahead she could see Helmer bending his head to speak 
 to his companion. His sleeve lightly touched the 
 maiden's dress, so lightly that, could Aveline have seen, 
 there was a pout on her lips. Not so was Geysbert's 
 arm manipulated. He had no intention of allowing his 
 companion to forget its existence, and the heightened 
 colour on her cheeks was not ill-pleasing to him. He 
 was gay, so gay that Aveline was forced to fall in with 
 his mood, and laugh with the rest. The day was bri^^ht, 
 and the motion rapid, and there was contagion in the 
 merriment all along the line. 
 
 The road, a grass-grown wagon-track, just beginning 
 to show signs of green, was soft and springy, and if deep 
 ruts had occasionally to be avoided, they only add-ed 
 spice to the adventure. A dash through a piece of 
 woodland brought them out to cleared fields beyond. 
 Here the track curved sharply, and a little display of 
 skill on the part of the drivers was in place. A small
 
 FREE TO SERVE 193 
 
 stream crossed the road at the curve, and over it were 
 laid a few rough planks, a rude substitute for a bridge. 
 As the primitive bridge was approached, a tremor 
 passed through seven maidens' frames. The eighth 
 was innocently watching the rest as they swept round 
 that curve. She saw the first vehicle strike the boards, 
 a cavalier's head go down, the tightening of an encir- 
 cling arm, and then a motion to which there belonged 
 a distinct and peculiar sound, just now drowned by the 
 thud of hoofs and the laughter of the company. It 
 was over in a moment, and the next chaise was upon 
 the bridge. One by one the little gigs touched the 
 boards, and one by one the drivers took the reward of 
 their labours. It is only fair to admit that there was no 
 stealing about it. A free gift may ever honourably be 
 taken. 
 
 As the number of chaises between herself and the 
 bridge lessened until it was reduced to one, Aveline 
 could use her ears as well as her eyes. When the head 
 went down, and maid and escort approached more 
 closely to each other, she could hear the sound which 
 before had only affected her through the imagination. 
 Now it became audible to a close listener. It was 
 friendship grown resonant. She began to understand 
 that there were revelations connected with a chaise- 
 party. 
 
 She was so thoroughly absorbed in watching, that 
 her observation of others carried her thought away 
 from herself. She was close enough to see the details 
 of the performance, and an amused smile was parting 
 her lips, when the wheels of her own chaise touched 
 the planks, and suddenly her companion leant forward, 
 bent low, and quickly, and without warning, touched his 
 lips to hers, then bending his head yet more, let his 
 eyes laugh into her own. 
 
 " How dare you ? "
 
 194 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 There was danger in the flash of the eyes that an- 
 swered his. 
 
 " Nay, nay, don't look so fierce," he said. " It is but 
 my prerogative as escort and driver." 
 
 "Then I will walk. The price is too high for the 
 privilege," said Aveline hotly. 
 
 In spite of his encircling arm she struggled to her feet. 
 
 " Stop the chaise," she said imperiously. " I will 
 not trouble you to drive further." 
 
 " You will not? " 
 
 He snatched his whip from its resting-place, and the 
 chaise rolled madly onward. 
 
 " There, how will that do? " he said. " You have yet 
 to learn that the pleasures of a chaise-party are not of 
 the quietest character. Come now, be generous, and 
 treat me as well as Lentje is treating Helmer there." 
 
 Instinctively Aveline looked ahead. Helmer's part- 
 ner had nestled closer to her escort. She was beginning 
 to enjoy the drive. The sight did nothing toward les- 
 sening the close pressure of Aveline's lips. 
 
 "Since you will not stop," she said coldly, " I must 
 even resign myself to the inevitable. I think this chaise 
 would be less wearisome, however, if you could find it 
 convenient only to occupy one side." 
 
 He drew his arm away angrily. 
 
 " Thank you. That is better." 
 
 " Better, is it? I'm glad you find it so." 
 
 " I thank you. I do." 
 
 He relapsed into sullen silence, during which a second 
 bridge came in sight, and a little suppressed giggling 
 sounded from ahead. This time Aveline did not smile. 
 As she watched the repetition of the performance that 
 had before struck her as amusing, her lip curled. She 
 simply found it ridiculous. 
 
 " See there ! " said Geysbert. " There are maidens 
 less absurdly particular than yourself."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 195 
 
 " Yes, I perceive that there are," responded AveHiie. 
 " They have a right to value their — kisses — as highly 
 or as lightly as they please." 
 
 " Hm ! Possibly they are worth as much as your 
 own," he retorted. 
 
 " Then go and take them ; that is, if any feel inclined 
 to give you the privilege." 
 
 She turned full upon him. They were crossing the 
 bridge. He gave his whip free play and they were over, 
 the chaise rolling dangerously. 
 
 The drive was a failure — for Geysbert. Aveline sat 
 very proud and still, as far away from him as she could 
 get. Merry shouts of laughter came back to them from 
 the leading chaises. There was no further word spoken. 
 Aveline could hardly have told why she was so angry ; 
 Geysbert had simply followed the example of every 
 other youth in the party. She had seen Helmer draw 
 his companion towards him as he reached the bridge, 
 though it must be confessed the sight had not pleased 
 her. She had not smiled just at that moment. And 
 yet — so illogical at times is the human mind — she had 
 not felt that the dignity of his companion was wounded. 
 She had been busy wondering whether or not he found 
 the carrying out of the programme pleasant. But 
 Geysbert ! That was another matter. He should have 
 known better. If he did not, he must take the conse- 
 quences. 
 
 They were nearing their destination, a small, rough 
 hut in the woods, where the wood-choppers found shel- 
 ter. Here they were to have breakfast — rather a late 
 one, as the sun was but an hour from the zenith — and 
 then enjoy a ramble in the woods before the drive home. 
 The alacrity with which Aveline sprang from the chaise 
 was a new stab to Geysbert's pride. 
 
 There was much laughter and joking while the maid- 
 ens prepared the meal, and Aveline's laugh mingled
 
 196 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 with the rest. Yet, as she went outside to fetch some 
 needed article, Helmer's voice said gently : 
 
 " You are not pleased with our Dutch merry-making." 
 
 " I neither deny nor plead guilty to the charge," she 
 said. " You have not established it." 
 
 " In my mind it needs no establishing but that which 
 a look into your eyes will give," he said. " We are a 
 homely race, and our sports are perhaps rough." 
 
 " Yes. You drive furiously," she answered, and there 
 was no suggestion of a smile, yet a slight quiver of 
 Helmer's lips betrayed the thought that found no other 
 expression. 
 
 " It is a sin," he said. " If you will trust yourself to 
 me, I will prove on the return journey that even a Dutch- 
 man can be gentle." 
 
 There was certainly a relaxing of the muscles of her 
 face. A conceited swain might easily have fancied that 
 she was relieved. 
 
 After all, the day was not unpleasant. It was because 
 the sun shone so brightly. It is well-nigh impossible to 
 be altogether unhappy when a spring sun warms the air, 
 and the world shows those tremors of life that come only 
 once in a year. Helmer took possession of Aveline, and 
 did for her the honours of the forest. At first the sound 
 of voices was always near, but little by little the party 
 separated, till Aveline found herself alone with Helmer. 
 It was then she felt that the sun was shining so brightly, 
 and that the warm earth was pleasant. 
 
 The outward journey had been arranged by the 
 hostess ; the return trip was brought into order by the 
 manipulations of the pleasure-takers themselves. As a 
 matter of course, it followed that in more than one case 
 there was a change of partner. If Helmer had expected 
 to be obliged to use a little skill in safely bestowing 
 Aveline in the particular chaise of which he had charge, 
 he found himself mistaken.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 197 
 
 Geysbert had to all appearance more than recovered 
 his spirits. He was paying devoted attention to a maiden 
 who was ready to appreciate his efforts. She looked 
 satisfied and triumphant, and though Geysbert's coun- 
 tenance could not be said to be a complete reflection of 
 her own, it was at least full of gayety. 
 
 There was more hilarity on the second trip. The 
 wine, that had not been spared at the meal, had loosened 
 tongues and inspired wit. It is not even certain that 
 everybody waited for a bridge at that time. Little 
 screams, which were not of fear, and loud expressions 
 of masculine satisfaction, were the order of the day. 
 
 Helmer had intentionally started last in line. 
 
 " It is pleasanter to watch than to be watched," he 
 said, and Aveline agreed with him. 
 
 He kept his word as to driving soberly. The line 
 of rattling chaises was always well ahead, though Helmer 
 drove fast. He did not find it necessary to keep strictly 
 to Dutch etiquette on that homeward journey. Once 
 his hand touched Aveline's as he asked whether she felt 
 cold, — a soft, spring breeze having arisen, — and once 
 he found it necessary to assist her to a more comfort- 
 able position on the narrow seat. The hand he took 
 in his was not cold. It was warm and soft — a tempting 
 little hand. But Helmer resisted temptation. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of a chaise-party? " asked 
 Pieter Feljer, as he came out to welcome them back, 
 and held out his hand to help Aveline to the ground. 
 
 " That is a stolen privilege," cried Helmer, when she 
 put her hand into the old man's. 
 
 Aveline laughed. 
 
 " It is pleasant — and unpleasant," she added truth- 
 fully. 
 
 " Well done," said the owner of the manor house. 
 " You have learned something."
 
 198 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 HI ! Yah ! Toot ! Toot ! " 
 The small Tyte waved the empty drinking- 
 horn with a shaking hand. He had removed 
 the stopper from the small end of it, for the purpose 
 of blowing the shrill blast which was a sign of triumph, 
 telling that the drinker had emptied the horn and 
 was yet sober enough to apply his lips to the other 
 end. Tyte was unsteady about the legs, and so generally 
 unstable in his movements that the three young men who 
 lay stretched on the grass set up a shout of raillery. 
 The negro boy interpreted the shout as a compliment, 
 and attempted a caper in response. His subsequent 
 efforts to preserve his balance called forth peals of 
 laughter, which reached a climax when the boy fell 
 heavily, rolling on the ground in unsuccessful attempts 
 to pick himself up again. 
 
 " Impudent little beggar that ! " said one of the three. 
 "But he's down for good this time." 
 
 " About had his fill," replied Geysbert. " Myndert, 
 you've lost your bet. He's dead drunk." 
 
 " Not he," said the third youth, who was the son of 
 the most well-to-do tenant on the estate. " Let the 
 blackamoor alone. He's good for two horns more yet. 
 Here, you, Tyte ! Up with you, and fill your horn." 
 
 He put out his foot and gave the boy a slight kick as 
 he spoke. There was danger that he would sink into 
 slumber. 
 
 Tyte made renewed attempts to rise. The contor- 
 tions of his face, and the absolute refusal of his limbs to 
 act in concert, provoked from the young men roars of 
 laughter.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 199 
 
 " You've lost your wager. He'll never drain that 
 horn again, to say nothing of emptying it a second 
 time," said Geysbert, eying the struggling boy criti- 
 cally. 
 
 " Won't he? That's all you know about it," retorted 
 Myndert. " Don't be too sure. A bet's not lost till it's 
 won, and you haven't won yet." 
 
 He got on his feet, reached down, took the negro boy 
 by the clothing, and deposited him by the corner of the 
 barn. 
 
 " Hold on to that, youngster, and take your drink like 
 a man," he said, and he turned to refill the horn from a 
 big pewter can by his side. 
 
 He had laid a wager that turned on the capacity of a 
 negro boy to swallow liquor, and unless he succeeded in 
 getting Tyte to drink two more horns of the fiery liquid, 
 his wager was lost. 
 
 The shouts had drawn to the spot a small group of 
 spectators, consisting of three grown slaves belonging 
 to Myndert Hooghland's father, and some half-dozen 
 negro children, all of whom took care to keep well be- 
 yond young Myndert's reach. His temper was known 
 to be none of the mildest, and the slaves kept one eye 
 on the fun and the other on the danger. 
 
 " Now, then ! Catch hold, and let's hear you blow 
 that horn again." 
 
 Myndert held out the brimming horn. A meaning- 
 less grin overspread Tyte's face. He stretched out his 
 hand. That movement had a strange effect on the barn. 
 Tyte felt it reel and stagger under his grasp. 
 
 " Dis — barn's — drunk ! " he ejaculated, and loosed 
 his hold, to fall a helpless heap at Myndert's feet. 
 
 The young man's foot spurned him savagely. 
 
 " Get up, you fool ! " he said. 
 
 The negro group drew nearer, making a half circle 
 around the actors in the scene. Geysbert raised him-
 
 200 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 self on his elbow, and looked quizzically on. He had 
 little fear of losing his wager. 
 
 " Here ! Sit up if you can't stand, and take this. 
 Now then, toss it off." 
 
 The young man held the horn towards the boy. He 
 was determined not to be beaten. Pride, more than the 
 desire of winning his bet, was at the bottom of his per- 
 sistency. He had said he would win, and it would go 
 hard with him to lose. 
 
 He propped up the boy in a sitting position. It was 
 very evident that he was past standing. His head fell 
 heavily forward on his breast, and his eyes closed and 
 unclosed spasmodically. Tyte was struggling against 
 the slumber that overpowered him. The young man 
 jerked the victim's head back roughly. 
 
 " Wake up, you black rascal ! " he shouted. "Now 
 then, drink ! " 
 
 " He's drunk as a pig," squeaked a childish voice 
 from among the spectators. 
 
 That speech was a revelation to one of the on-lookers. 
 She had come to a stand behind the encircling group, 
 wondering and horrified, hesitating whether or not to 
 interfere. Now she understood. Before even the ex- 
 cited negroes had noticed her, she pushed one of them 
 aside, swept down on Myndert Hooghland as he tipped 
 the horn to pour its contents down the boy's throat, and 
 gave the vessel a blow sharp enough to send it with its 
 contents to the ground. 
 
 " How dare you treat a child like that? " she cried 
 indignantly. 
 
 Myndert looked up with an oath on his lips. 
 
 " Stand back there," commanded Aveline, her face 
 ablaze with indignation. " Do you want to kill the 
 child?" 
 
 " What is it to you whether I do or not? He's not 
 your negro," responded Myndert angrily.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 201 
 
 " Nor yours. But if he were, it would make the case 
 no better." 
 
 " Makes it a little the worse that the black rascal's 
 the property of Helmer Feljer, doesn't it?" asked 
 Myndert with a leer. " You naturally feel a little more 
 interested in his property than in that of — say Geys- 
 bert here — or any of the rest of us, eh ? " 
 
 Aveline gave him a look of scorn, but she found it 
 unnecessary to answer. 
 
 " Take that liquor away, and set one of your slaves to 
 help the boy home," she said. " You have done the 
 mischief, and the least you can do is to remedy it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, surely. Your commands are as welcome as 
 they are peremptory. Would you like to wait and see 
 them carried out, or will you leave that to me? I shall 
 be mightily pleased to receive any number of them." 
 
 He had picked up the horn, and was refilling it as he 
 spoke. With a quick sweep of his arm he pushed 
 Aveline aside, and once more held the liquor to Tyte's 
 lips. The negro boy, partially roused by Aveline's 
 voice, was trying in a bewildered fashion to understand 
 what was required of him. 
 
 " No, no, Tyte ! Don't drink it," commanded Ave- 
 line, struggling to get past the outstretched arm. 
 
 Myndert tipped the horn. But the girl's words had 
 cut their way into Tyte's stupefied brain. He set his 
 teeth, and gave his head a weak jerk. It was enough 
 to spill the liquor and to anger Myndert. 
 
 " Open your mouth, you fool ! " he cried. 
 
 " No — Missy Av'line — say — no. . Dis — boy — 
 do — as Missy — Av'line — say." 
 
 It was an effort almost beyond the muddled brain and 
 the uncertain tongue, but the words were said. 
 
 " What, you won't? Then take that to sober you ! " 
 
 The young man gave the boy a brutal kick, and had 
 lifted his foot again when he felt a hand at his collar,
 
 202 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 pulling with a strength not to be despised. He turned 
 and encircled Aveline with his arm, holding her from 
 him. 
 
 "How now, little fury!" he said. "What next? 
 Better go and tell Helmer. This is no place for ladies." 
 
 " It would be a good place for a man — if there were 
 one," said Aveline, and she glanced towards Geysbert. 
 
 He seemed not to see that look. He was waiting 
 until she appealed to him for protection. His pride 
 was yet sore over yesterday's rebuff. The chaise-party 
 was but a day old. Presently he might forget — but 
 not to-day. When she wanted his help she could ask 
 for it. She could have it readily enough then. But as 
 long as she was too proud to ask, he was too proud to 
 offer. Let her take the consequences of her actions. 
 It would be wholesome for her. 
 
 He did not interfere when Myndert lifted Aveline 
 from her feet, and with an angry " Get out of the way 
 there, the whole lazy pack of you ! " sent the negroes 
 scurrying to right and left as he carried the girl beyond 
 the group. 
 
 " There, go home to your mistress," he said brutally. 
 " Truly, for a serving-maid, and in bondage at that, you 
 are a bold wench, to interfere with men that are your 
 masters." 
 
 Aveline's face turned very white. It was the first 
 time she had met the taunt. 
 
 "Men, do you say? Verily, it has a strange sound 
 when thus applied. Willingly would I cease from such 
 association," she said, slowly and distinctly. "But I 
 must see justice done to the boy." 
 
 " You must? Then I am bound to dispose of you 
 first, and take my will on the black rascal later." 
 
 " No. You will take that first ! " 
 
 The movement was so sudden and unexpected that 
 Myndert was sprawling on the ground before he had
 
 FREE TO SERVE 203 
 
 thought of danger, and Helmer's dog Kip was growl- 
 ing and sniffing over him, half disposed to take a turn 
 in the fray by applying his teeth to the leg of the pros- 
 trate enemy. 
 
 " Come off, Kip," commanded Helmer sharply, and 
 the dog slunk round to Aveline's heels. 
 
 The blow had been given so quickly and dexterously 
 that Helmer had succeeded in disengaging Aveline from 
 the young man's grasp at the very moment when he 
 staggered to his fall. Now he kept his arm about her. 
 
 " I apologize for our race as a set of brutes," he said 
 savagely, bending down to look into her face. " Yet 
 they are not all such specimens as these." 
 
 His sweeping nod took in the three young men, 
 including them all in the accusation. 
 
 " Are you hurt? " he asked anxiously. 
 
 " No — but Tyte — " 
 
 " I'll attend to Tyte later. Now, if you are not hurt, 
 you — had better stand back." 
 
 The last words came quickly. Helmer sprang aside, 
 putting Aveline by that act in a place of safety, just as 
 Myndert, blind with rage, jumped to his feet. The blow, 
 given with the strength of a young arm nerved with 
 indignation, had for the moment stunned him. Now he 
 rushed at Helmer with murder in his face. 
 
 The young man braced himself to meet the shock. 
 It would not have been a minute before Myndert would 
 have felt again the reactionary power of the solid earth, 
 for Helmer was ready for the attack. But Geysbert had 
 already risen to his feet. He had foreseen the result of 
 that first blow, and he set himself to prevent a second 
 by planting himself in Myndert's way. Not that he 
 cared whether his companion received his deserts or 
 not, but he was averse to seeing Helmer the victor, and 
 that he would be the victor was a foregone conclusion. 
 Any triumph for Helmer was gall to Geysbert at this
 
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 moment. Moreover, Aveline was looking on, her face 
 white with excitement. She should not see Myndert 
 beaten in the encounter, for in a measure he himself was 
 involved in it. For the time he and Myndert were on 
 the same side. 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Myndert," he said. " You've had 
 your turn, and Helmer's had his. The boy's his negro, 
 and you took the risk when you meddled with him. 
 We've about had enough of this business. Better be 
 moving, and leave the rest to do as they please." 
 
 Myndert hesitated. Wild as he was with passion, he 
 knew that he was no match for Helmer. He glared at 
 the young man for a moment, and then turned towards 
 the house. 
 
 " I'll be even with you yet, Helmer Feljer," he said, 
 and there was hatred enough in his tone to cause Aveline 
 a sharp twinge of fear. 
 
 " All right. I'm ready any time," said Helmer scorn- 
 fully. " Better stand up now, like a man, and take the 
 thrashing you'll get if I have a chance at you. The 
 thrashing you deserve is a bigger matter." 
 
 Then he turned to Aveline. 
 
 " I will see you safely out of this ruffianly neighbour- 
 hood, and then send one of the negroes to look after 
 Tyte," he said. 
 
 She made no attempt to thank him. She grew shy 
 and quiet the moment the others had disappeared. For 
 a time neither spoke. Helmer was thinking of Myn- 
 dert's taunt. Aveline had become so much one of the 
 family that the very mention of any other relationship 
 made him set his teeth together savagely. He was 
 repenting of letting the young man off so easily. 
 
 " I should not have interfered," said Aveline suddenly, 
 " but he was behaving like a brute to poor Tyte." 
 
 " He is a brute," interrupted Helmer. " He had no 
 right to touch the boy. And as for daring so much as
 
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 to look at you — I wish Geysbert had let things alone. 
 The thought of it makes my fingers itch to punish him 
 as he deserves." 
 
 " No, no," said Aveline eagerly. " Let him alone. 
 He is revengeful, and might take some unfair means of 
 injuring you." 
 
 " I am not afraid," said Helmer quietly. 
 
 "But I am." 
 
 "For me?" 
 
 There was a ring in his voice not to be mistaken. He 
 tried to look into her face, but did not succeed very well. 
 His anger had suddenly vanished, dispersed before the 
 warmth of this new emotion. Myndert's transgression 
 dwindled. What did it matter who dared to sneer? If 
 Aveline would only let him, he would soon show the 
 world what was her position in the household. 
 
 They were nearing the house. 
 
 " I shall be safe enough now," said Aveline, " and 
 some one ought to look after Tyte." 
 
 "I will see to it at once," he replied. "And — you 
 will not allow any of Myndert Hooghland's insolence to 
 annoy you ? " 
 
 " That is a promise which I can only give condition- 
 ally," she said. " You will not allow his insolence to 
 provoke you into punishing him?" 
 
 " You are too merciful." 
 
 " No. I think I do not care for his side of the ques- 
 tion at all. But I should be anxious if I thought — " 
 
 She looked up at him, and he did not ask her to finish 
 the sentence. 
 
 Strange to say, Aveline's thoughts that night were not 
 of Myndert Hooghland's insulting words, nor of the 
 wrongs of the youthful Tyte, but of the look that met 
 hers before Helmer turned away. The next day she 
 started with Pieter and Madam Feljer for New York.
 
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 CHAPTER XX 
 
 "f M ^HERE, my dear, look well at him. It is not 
 I every new governor who can boast of being 
 A own cousin to a queen." 
 
 Pieter Feljer's admonition was surely unnecessary. 
 Not only Aveline, but all New York, was " looking well 
 at him " — the new governor. Lord Cornbury. On this 
 day in May, of the year 1702, the little city had turned 
 out to do him honour, personally, by that particular 
 form of loyalty which consists in patiently waiting for 
 the privilege of " looking well" at its object, and offi- 
 cially, by entertaining him through its corporation at a 
 grand banquet. 
 
 Not two months before, the province had exhibited 
 its fellowship with the English land by mourning the 
 death of William III., and his successor had yet to be 
 officially proclaimed in this part of her dominions. 
 Viscount Cornbury was the personal link which was to 
 unite them to the new sovereign, being not only her 
 representative, but also her kinsman. 
 
 Aveline's eyes were a little brighter than usual as she 
 stood to see him pass. She was very happy to-day, 
 with Fulke on one side of her, and good Pieter Feljer 
 on the other. It was no wonder that the new govern- 
 or's gaze rested approvingly on the group. So marked 
 was the notice that Aveline blushed and courtesied low 
 in reverence to the queen's representative, and madam 
 remarked complacently : 
 
 " As handsome a gentleman as one could wish to see, 
 and evidently a man of taste and sense." 
 
 It is possible that the taste might have been shown in
 
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 a yet more emphatic manner had not the six fine horses 
 attached to the viscount's carriage drawn him past the 
 party which had attracted his attention. The banquet 
 was to come, and the homage of the city magnates, but 
 while he hstened to their speeches of loyahy, Lord 
 Cornbury was thinking of a girl's blushing face, and 
 trying to place it satisfactorily in relationship to its 
 surroundings. 
 
 " Neither the boy nor the girl calls that fine old 
 Dutchman father, Til wager," he said, and the next 
 moment rose to reply to the address of welcome. 
 
 The city was in gala attire. Aveline could have 
 chosen no better time to make its acquaintance. It 
 would have been impossible to feel anything but pleased 
 with it, with its mixture of imposing buildings recently 
 erected, and quaint old Dutch houses standing gable 
 end to the street, adorned, as to the gables, with checks 
 of red and yellow and black bricks. The shade-trees, 
 which, a few years later, made a traveller remark that 
 walking through the streets of New York was like walk- 
 ing through a garden, had just burst into leaf, and under 
 them was to be seen a mixed people, who had brought 
 some of the good from each land its individual members 
 represented. Already New York had become a city of 
 many races, though just now it was a city of but one 
 idea, and that idea was to give a fitting welcome to the 
 representative of Queen Anne. 
 
 It was not solely for this purpose that Pieter and 
 Madam Feljer were here. " We may as well join busi- 
 ness with pleasure," Pieter had said, " and since we 
 must go to the city, time our visit so that we may wit- 
 ness the governor's arrival." 
 
 To Pieter and his wife the great event of the journey 
 was the buying of a large tract of land just outside the 
 city; to AveHne it was the coming of Fulke. He 
 arrived on the very day on which they set foot in New
 
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 York, and from that moment the attraction of New York 
 for AveHne was secure. 
 
 The last time she saw those quaint Dutch streets she 
 had been sure that Sir JuHan and Joan were right, and 
 that the venturing to America was a mistake. To-day 
 she was willing to reserve her judgment. For Fulke 
 was prospering, and was looking forward with eager 
 anticipation to the trading that would come in the 
 summer months, when he would have his first dealings 
 with the Indians. Already there was a change in him, 
 a reflection of the sturdier life he was leading. He was 
 not more self-reliant than before, but Aveline found him 
 more reliable. 
 
 The happiness in her heart was mirrored in her face, 
 and it was no wonder that Pieter Feljer beamed proudly 
 on her when he saw the inquiring glances cast in her 
 direction, or that madam looked well to the details of 
 her toilet before she introduced her as — "A young 
 English maid whom I have taken under my wing while 
 her brother is engaged in trade. She is fast making 
 me forget that I have no daughter." 
 
 It was thus she introduced her in the house in which 
 she and her husband were guests during their stay in 
 New York, and it was thus she spoke of her on the day 
 when Pieter and Madam Feljer had the honour to meet 
 the governor in one of the more palatial dwellings of 
 the city. 
 
 There was a little awe in Aveline's heart when she 
 found herself one of the brilliant company gathered 
 together in this colonial mansion to meet Lord Corn- 
 bury. She tried to remember all Lady Betty's instruc- 
 tions, and look well to her ways, that that good lady 
 might have no cause to be ashamed of her could she 
 see her to-day. The immense rooms, the heavy carved 
 furniture, the wealth of plate, and the abundance of 
 servants, were all imposing, and a trifle bewildering,
 
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 after her quiet life at the manor house, but if she feared 
 a Httle, the fear only added grace to her manner. 
 
 Pieter Feljer found the new governor an affable and 
 pleasant gentleman on that occasion. Later on, men 
 called him haughty and arrogant, but if some tinge of 
 pride appeared in his demeanour, it was not allowed to 
 be too pronounced as he discussed with the old Dutch 
 gentleman the affairs of the province as they presented 
 themselves to a large land-owner. He did not disdain 
 even to take an interest in Pieter Feljer's personal con- 
 cerns. He asked of the extent of his possessions, and 
 the status of his tenants, and informed himself of the 
 character of the land in the mountain-bound district 
 above Kingston at Esopus. 
 
 "And yonder maiden," he continued, "should be 
 your daughter, for, if I mistake not, your eyes follow 
 her with a glance that is not less than paternal." 
 
 " All in good time, your Excellency," said Pieter, the 
 old twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " Ah, I see. There is a scion of the good old Dutch 
 stock who has taste equal to that of his father." 
 
 " Nay, but there are two," said Pieter, with a chuckle. 
 " A dangerous combination," replied Lord Cornbury, 
 and there was a little extra light in his own eye. " And 
 the maid? She is not of Dutch birth? " 
 
 " No, she comes of a fine old English family. The 
 youth, her brother, is to be thanked that she is not still 
 in her own land." 
 
 Of the character of the English maiden Lord Corn- 
 bury seemed disposed to judge for himself, for he 
 deigned to make the acquaintance of Madam Feljer, 
 and that good lady found him no less affable than her 
 husband had done. It was noticed that he talked 
 longer with Aveline than with any other lady present. 
 It was a distinction which caused a few of the stately 
 dames of New York to look askance at the youthful
 
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 stranger, and confirmed Madame Feljer in her high 
 opinion of Lord Cornbury's taste. 
 
 Aveline herself found her fears vanish when she was 
 actually in conversation with the great man of the prov- 
 ince — the cousin of Queen Anne herself. He knew 
 how to make himself agreeable, and how to draw the 
 shy smiles to his companion's lips. She found herself 
 telling him of Sir Julian and Lady Betty, and even of 
 Fulke's prospects, and her own joy thereat. But when 
 he remarked : " Your good uncle stands little chance 
 of welcoming back his niece and ward, if rumour speak 
 the truth," the colour dyed her face, and the smile on 
 her lips changed to a nervous quiver. The change did 
 not escape the governor's eye. 
 
 " Nay, nay, fair maid. I swear that none shall cause 
 you distress," he said kindly. "We will issue our man- 
 date against any undue coercion of the will of the maid- 
 ens of our domain. These young Dutchmen shall win 
 the treasure in all fairness before they dare to seize it, 
 and if either should take unfair advantage, I will myself 
 acquaint him with the rights of English maidenhood, 
 and with our pleasure that these rights should be re- 
 spected." 
 
 The tremulousness had gone from Aveline's face. 
 She had feared that his words had another meaning. 
 The flush was not as quick to depart. It is not certain 
 that Lord Cornbury judged it to detract from her 
 charms. He was studying her face closely, and he 
 seemed in no hurry to banish that ruddy glow, or his 
 next words would surely have been left unsaid. 
 
 " Which of the two, think you, will be the first to 
 come under the ban of our displeasure? " he asked, and 
 his eyes smiled, though his lips were grave. 
 
 " Neither, your Excellency," said Aveline demurely, 
 
 "What? You would shield both?" 
 
 The smile broke about her lips again.
 
 FREE TO SER^VE 211 
 
 " No, your Lordship. It were safer to order myself so 
 that neither shall transgress," she said. 
 
 " You will have need to order that face of yours that 
 it may be less witching then," he replied, and laughed 
 as she dropped him a courtesy, and let her eyelids veil 
 her eyes from his gaze. 
 
 It was no wonder that in one family opinion was 
 unanimous in favour of the new governor. 
 
 Once again, during the time which intervened be- 
 tween his reception by the city and the official procla- 
 mation of the successor of William III., did Aveline 
 have the opportunity to see a little more of the new 
 ruler than fell to the lot of the ordinary citizen. The 
 meeting was a chance one, for she had set out to see, 
 not the governor, but the fort. On this occasion she 
 was under Fulke's protection, and was so much like the 
 Aveline of old times that the young man drew more 
 than one long breath of relief. 
 
 It was to the inner life of the fort that he was about 
 to introduce his sister, having made the acquaintance of 
 one of the garrison, who had promised to show him all 
 there was to see. The old fort did not take long to 
 inspect, and they were passing into one of the main pas- 
 sages when their guide exclaimed hastily : 
 
 " Stand aside ! Here comes the governor." 
 
 " The governor ! " said Fulke, with a derisive laugh. 
 *' Truly yon comer is stately enough for my Lord Corn- 
 bury himself, and might well be mistaken for him, were 
 it not that the form of this majestic promenader is that 
 of the weaker sex." 
 
 " Stand back there, and keep a still tongue in your 
 head," was the sharp response, and the soldier thrust the 
 two into the doorway, and took a becoming military 
 attitude himself. 
 
 The imposing dame advanced with measured step and 
 head held high. The face, haughty and handsome, was
 
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 lengthened in appearance by the tall " tower" or " com- 
 mode " worn by ladies of the period, an elaborate struct- 
 ure of silk and lace, more than a foot in height, from 
 each side of which hung broad ends, also of lace. 
 
 " Surely 'tis none other than the Princess Anne — I 
 crave her pardon — Her Most Gracious Majesty, Queen 
 Anne herself," muttered Fulke, as in the wearer of the 
 richly wrought gown, gathered up over a flounced petti- 
 coat, he discerned the well-known features of the royal 
 personage who had yet to be proclaimed queen in New 
 York. 
 
 The apparition, for it was scarcely less, was level with 
 the door, but instead of passing it, and going forward, 
 the new-comer stopped, and looked for a moment in 
 silence at the two. 
 
 "It is the governor," whispered Fulke, and at the 
 same instant Aveline recognized the features of Lord 
 Cornbury. Both becomingly acknowledged the pres- 
 ence of royalty's representative. The governor broke 
 the silence. 
 
 "Ah, I have not forgotten this fair face. How goes 
 the world with you, my dear ? " 
 
 Aveline answered him timidly. This dual character 
 confused her. As for Fulke, he hardly knew whether to 
 regard the speaker as the governor — Lord Cornbury — 
 or as the august lady he resembled. 
 
 " And this is your brother, I doubt not," said the gov- 
 ernor, " the young man of whom you spoke. I trust he 
 will prove an acquisition to the province, and a loyal sub- 
 ject of that most gracious lady, Her Majesty, Queen 
 Anne." 
 
 Fulke bowed low, and the governor continued : 
 
 " You are welcome to the fort, and more especially 
 on the present occasion. You have now the opportu- 
 nity to behold, not simply the representative, but in 
 some measure the impersonation, of my royal cousin,
 
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 that Most Gracious Sovereign, Queen Anne. In looking 
 upon me it requires but a slight stretch of the imagina- 
 tion to conceive that you look upon the august features 
 of the Queen of England. It is truly said of me that I 
 bear a striking resemblance to my revered cousin, and I 
 would quicken your loyalty, and the loyalty of the 
 people of this province, by presenting your sovereign 
 before your eyes in a manner as nearly suggestive of her 
 actual presence as is compatible with the distance of this 
 from the motherland." 
 
 He bowed graciously to the brother and sister, and 
 passed on, to quicken the loyalty of other sojourners 
 in the fort. 
 
 " Of a truth, this is a strange maggot," said Fulke, 
 when the governor was well out of hearing. 
 
 " Hush, he is the governor. Surely it is a species of 
 treason to speak other than respectfully of so kind a 
 gentleman," said Aveline warningly. 
 
 " It is not as new to us as to you," remarked the sol- 
 dier. " 'Tis an odd sight, but he would be a bold man 
 who would dare to smile when my Lord Cornbury was 
 passing." 
 
 The eighteenth of June was a second great day in 
 the city of New York. On that occasion travellers from 
 all parts of the province poured into the town to wit- 
 ness the ceremonies attending the official proclamation 
 of Queen Anne. The solemnity was attended with a 
 great display of loyalty, and much state, such as the 
 drawing out of all the forces, the appearance of that 
 august body. Her Majesty's Council, and of the gover- 
 nor himself, attended by the mayor, the aldermen and 
 common council, the clergy, and all the principal citizens. 
 It was a time of rejoicing and festivity, but to Aveline 
 it was not as gay as the day on which the governor was 
 welcomed. Then Fulke was with her, but to-day only 
 Pieter and Madam Feljer were her companions.
 
 214 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " It is a brave sight enough, but the manor house 
 suits me better," madam said. " I doubt my eyes are 
 getting over-old for much sight-seeing." 
 
 " To-morrow the governor starts for New Jersey," 
 said Pieter, "'and in a few days we will follow his ex- 
 ample, and set out for home. The last arrangements 
 about the land shall be made at once. Then Geysbert 
 will have cause to be content. His portion will be 
 broad enough to meet his expectations, and next year 
 we will come back, and he shall build him a house 
 to suit his taste. After that there will be nothing 
 for him to do but find himself a mistress for his 
 dwelling." 
 
 He looked a little sharply at Aveline as he spoke. 
 Geysbert was his eldest son, and there was in the old 
 man's heart a little leaning towards giving him an elder 
 son's privilege, the pick of his father's possessions. It 
 was Geysbert's own desire to have an estate in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the city, and let the manor house fall to 
 Helmer. He had always had an inclination towards 
 trade, and he wanted to be near the business heart of 
 the province. Perhaps the thought that he could there 
 offer Aveline attractions not to be found in the quiet of 
 the old manor house had something to do with his 
 determination. Pieter would have liked to have been 
 a little surer that the mistress Geysbert wanted for his 
 home would consent to preside over it. 
 
 " Well, little sight-seer, have you had enough of the 
 city? " he asked. 
 
 " Quite," replied Aveline firmly. 
 " And you are ready to go back? " 
 " Of course I am, with you and madam." 
 " Oh, the old folks are the attraction, eh?" 
 He gave her cheek a pinch, and then noted the colour 
 that swept over it. It was not all due to the action ot 
 his fingers.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 215 
 
 " Wait till next summer," he said. " Then we will see 
 which answers best as escort, the old man or the young." 
 
 Madam Feljer said nothing, but she too was watching 
 Aveline. Perhaps her conclusions did not differ mate- 
 rially from those of her husband. Whatever they were, 
 they did not bring a frown to her brow. Pieter had 
 a deep crease between his eyes just now, but madam's 
 face was smooth and calm. 
 
 It was not many days later when Aveline accompa- 
 nied Pieter on his final expedition to inspect the land, 
 and complete the purchase of the same. The old man 
 was in high spirits. 
 
 " There will be a Feljer to take part in city ceremo- 
 nies soon," he said. " The governor wants able young 
 men around him. There are offices to be filled, and 
 duties to be done for the province. The Feljers have 
 been too long buried among the mountains." 
 
 " Such a life will suit Geysbert well," said Aveline, 
 willing to give the old man pleasure. " And the gov- 
 ernor seems a kindly gentleman." 
 
 "And how would it suit you, my dear?" he asked, 
 ignoring the last remark. 
 
 "Oh, I think I love the mountains too well to part 
 from them," she said lightly. "You and madam have 
 made the manor house home to me." 
 
 " You are a grateful little lass," he answered. 
 
 They were returning from their expedition, and near- 
 ing the outskirts of the city, having come to a thorough- 
 fare known as Maiden Lane, or as the Dutch people 
 called it, Maagde Paetje, the Virgin's Path. It was a very 
 new neighbourhood, only laid out in recent years. That 
 the path was well-trodden was due" less to the fact that 
 the population was stretching outwards towards the coun- 
 try, than to the presence of a little stream of spring water 
 running through the valley. To this spring the laun- 
 dresses of the city came forwater, and their coming an-
 
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 swered the double purpose of treading a firm path to 
 the spring, and of giving to the road its name. 
 
 For a minute Pieter drew rein, and sat looking 
 towards the city. Further citywards a procession 
 could be seen moving with slow, mournful step, its 
 central objects the figures almost covered by a heavy 
 pall. 
 
 " That is the second funeral I have seen to-day," 
 said Pieter, and after that he talked no more of Geys- 
 bert or the future. 
 
 " Is it all right, and have you completed the pur- 
 chase?" asked madam eagerly, as the two entered the 
 house. 
 
 "Yes. It's our land now," answered Pieter, rubbing 
 his hands jubilantly. 
 
 " That is well. Now I can rest content," she said. 
 
 But she did not rest content. There was a strange 
 uneasiness about her. Though it was past the middle 
 of June, she complained of cold, and Aveline lighted a 
 fire of small wood on the hearth in her bedroom, and 
 persuaded madam to draw her chair close to it. 
 
 " I am surely getting old for sight-seeing," she said. 
 " I have never known it tire me thus before." 
 
 Her hostess came to sit with her, and recommended 
 certain potions good for a chill, but when she was well 
 out of madam's sight she shook her head. 
 
 " I should not be surprised if she were taken with the 
 same ailment that has laid Lisbeth Govertsen low," she 
 confided to her husband. 
 
 " I'm fairly tired — tired right into these old bones," 
 madam said to Pieter in the morning. " Go you and 
 see all that is to be seen, and hear all that's to hear. 
 For me, my head will stand no more city noises. It 
 aches as if those rattling wagons were being driven 
 clear through it." 
 
 "You don't think there's anything really wrong?"
 
 FREE TO SERVE 217 
 
 Pieter asked, as he met Aveline without the door. He 
 looked at her appealingly. 
 
 " No, I hope not. Just a chill, in all probability," she 
 replied, and she smiled at him reassuringly, 
 
 Pieter went out. When he returned he looked ten 
 years older. 
 
 " How is she?" he asked quickly. 
 
 " Neither better nor worse, I think," said Aveline. 
 
 The old man dropped into a chair. 
 
 " I would give all I possess not to have come to New 
 York," he said. 
 
 Aveline looked at him in alarm. 
 
 " The city is stricken. Fully a dozen are down, and 
 she — I doubt it is the fever too." 
 
 " Nay, nay, Pieter Feljer. What is this for a begin- 
 ning to a sickness?" said his hostess, coming in on him 
 suddenly. " How is the good vrouw to pull through if 
 you meet her with a face that long? If so be it is the 
 fever, all the more need of determination to fight for 
 her life. 'Twill take more than a long face to do that." 
 
 He was on his feet instantly. " You speak truth, 
 Ragel Vanderhorn," he said. " I'm a selfish old man. 
 Wyntie made but a bad bargain in me, I fear. Yet I 
 have not been altogether inactive. I sought out a 
 doctor as I returned, and left notice for him to follow. 
 The good man had gone elsewhere." 
 
 " Pieter ! Was that Pieter's voice? " 
 
 Madam's restlessness had increased instead of dimin- 
 ishing. She heard her husband below. 
 
 " Yes, Wyntie. I'm coming." 
 
 And he did come, with the speed of a young man. 
 He drew breath heavily when he reached the top of 
 the stairs. Aveline waited for a minute, to speak with 
 Mrs. Vanderhorn. 
 
 " What is it?" she asked, in a frightened whisper. 
 
 '* Fever, so they say. There has been more than one
 
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 death already. 'Tis a distemper the sailors bring from 
 the islands of the West Indies. It was a sailor brought 
 it this time from St. Thomas." 
 
 " Do you think madam has caught it? " 
 
 " Heaven only knows, child. It looks amazingly 
 like it." 
 
 Before the day was over Aveline could have answered 
 the question for herself. Madam lay tossing in fever 
 and pain, and Pieter watched by her side like a faithful 
 dog, ready to spring up at her slightest request. Two 
 days later one of the negro servants in the house was 
 smitten. With her the disease took but a short course. 
 There was little care required. She succumbed at once, 
 and a coffin was almost the only necessity. When the 
 body had been carried out, Ragel Vanderhorn sought 
 Pieter. 
 
 " You are welcome to stay here as long as you like," 
 she said. " For me and my man, we are going to his 
 sister's over on Long Island. There's no sense in more 
 of us dying than are called upon. I'll leave you Nance 
 to wait on you. If she should take the fever, you'll 
 have to look out for yourselves." 
 
 The household was a very silent one when its mistress 
 was gone. Black Nance went in a frightened way about 
 her work in the kitchen, and Aveline and Pieter watched 
 above. The doctor came and went with anxiety on his 
 face. He had many patients now. The city, which a 
 fev»' days before had been jubilant, was in mourning. It 
 was not simply that sickness was there, but that death, 
 in the great majority of cases, followed close on the 
 heels of sickness. 
 
 It was a dread visitor that had come to greet the new 
 governor. He shrank from it, not altogether on his 
 own account. Pieter Feljer met him after his return 
 from New Jersey. The old man stopped. He must 
 needs tell of his sorrow.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 219 
 
 " How goes it with you in these times?" asked the 
 governor, himself aroused from troubled thoughts. 
 
 " Sorely, your Excellency, sorely," said Pieter. " It 
 was a sad day when I left the manor house. My wife 
 is laid low." 
 
 The governor's brow contracted. The words touched 
 a responsive chord. 
 
 " I extend to you my sympathy," he said. " I see 
 your anxiety in your face. I myself am not without 
 similar care. Lady Cornbury is not like your good 
 lady. She knows nothing of the vigour of health. 
 Were the breath of this accursed disease to touch her, 
 she would succumb at once. I am even now on my way 
 to make arrangements for removing her from the city." 
 
 " Whither will you go?" asked Pieter, for the moment 
 losing the sense of his own sorrow in the troubles of the 
 governor. 
 
 "To Jamaica, on Long Island. I have had an offer 
 that speaks much for the loyalty of its originator, the 
 pastor of the Presbyterian Church in that place. The 
 worthy gentleman has behaved uncommonly well. He 
 has offered to take his family from the parsonage, and 
 leave the place — which I understand is a new structure, 
 and therefore may well suit my purpose — at my dis- 
 posal until such time as Lady Cornbury and my children 
 can safely be brought back to the city. I am on my 
 way to inspect the house. If it turn out satisfactory, I 
 shall lose no time in removing my family thither, for it 
 is near enough for the business of the province to be 
 transacted there instead of here." 
 
 "Your Lordship will be acting wisely," said Pieter. 
 " It was very thoughtful of the good man." 
 
 All the way home Pieter was bus}'- with thoughts of 
 the invalid wife of the governor. 
 
 " Poor lady," he said. " I trust the precaution may 
 not be too late. '
 
 220 FREE TO SERVE ^ 
 
 But when he came in sight of the house where madam 
 lay, Lady Cornbury was forgotten, and the old man 
 dropped into his place in the ranks, and helped to 
 carry on the fight for life that was being waged 
 there. 
 
 He rarely left his wife's side, except on some neces- 
 sary errand. He would sit and watch her and Aveline 
 with a dumb faithfulness that never overlooked a want, 
 or neglected the smallest opportunity to be useful. 
 Aveline did not know how many steps he saved her, I 
 nor realize how he planned to meet her every need, 
 until she found ready to her hand just the article she 
 wanted at the moment. His thoughtfulness took off 
 her shoulders all the heavier tasks, and left her free for 
 those more delicate ministrations which his clumsy 
 fingers performed but awkwardly. His face grew very 
 old and careworn, and there was a tired look in his 
 eyes that would not have escaped Aveline's notice had 
 she not been so much engrossed with madam. 
 
 The fight was a hard one, but the watchers were win- 
 ning. Aveline was beginning to be sure of it now. She 
 told Pieter so one day, and he laid his trembling hand 
 on her arm. 
 
 "The Lord be thanked," he said. " I think you are 
 right." 
 
 He tried to smile, but his lips quivered instead, and 
 Aveline noticed that his face did not lighten. 
 
 " He is tired," she said, and turned to attend to 
 madam.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 PIETER FELJER had taken the fever. He knew 
 it himself long before Aveline found it out. His 
 bones ached, and his head seemed nothing but a 
 centre of weariness and pain. 
 
 " I won't let her know yet," he said. " I must keep 
 up to the last moment. The poor little lass has enough 
 on her hands. Wyntie must not be neglected." 
 
 He did keep up, saying no word of his pain and 
 weariness, going patiently back and forth between his 
 own room and his wife's every half hour, as he had 
 taken to doing for the last day or two, forcing into his 
 voice a forlorn imitation of cheerfulness, and carefully 
 noting everything that needed to be done before setting 
 about the tasks that were never more scrupulously per- 
 formed than now, though when they were completed he 
 staggered away to throw himself heavily upon his bed, 
 and with pathetic patience try once more to rest those 
 weary bones. 
 
 " Geysbert, my boy, I doubt you'll never see your 
 old father again," he said drearily, as for the twentieth 
 time he dragged himself across the room, and buried 
 his aching head in the depths of the pillow. " But the 
 land's yours, my boy. I've seen to that." 
 
 " Why, what is it? You are not sick? " 
 
 He had forgotten to shut the door, and Aveline, 
 crossing the upper hall, could see him where he lay. 
 She had heard his words. Now she looked anxiously 
 into his face. 
 
 " Nay, sir, but you have hidden it from me," she 
 said, in a chiding tone. " You should have been cared 
 for long ago. When did it first come on? "
 
 222 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " I don't know. I forget. It seems as though my 
 bones had ached forever," he said, a weak attempt at 
 a smile disturbing the heavy Hues into which his face 
 had fallen. 
 
 Tears filled Aveline's eyes. She had learned to love 
 the old man, and the pitiful loneliness of his suffering 
 sent a sharp pang to her heart. She had been so taken 
 up with madam that she had forgotten him. 
 
 " You must not leave her," he said imperatively. " I 
 can get along as I have done before. Did she want 
 anything? I'll go and fetch it. I was only resting a 
 bit." 
 
 He raised himself wearily as he spoke. She laid her 
 hand on his. 
 
 " No, no. She is asleep. I came to tell you. She is 
 sleeping quietly and naturally. I am sure she is better." 
 
 " God be praised," he said fervently, and two big 
 tears rolled down his careworn cheeks. " Take care of 
 her, child. Never mind me." 
 
 "I wish I had minded you sooner," said Aveline 
 penitently. " I will not go another step until you have 
 let me do for you all that the doctor ordered for her. 
 You must go to bed at once." 
 
 " No, that I will not. She will want me. She must 
 not know. It would put her right back again. Promise 
 that you will not tell her." 
 
 He put out his hand and held her fast. 
 
 " Not as long as she will rest content. There is no 
 danger at present. Now, while she is sleeping, you 
 must let me care for you." 
 
 Until he was lying between the sheets, and Nance 
 had been dispatched in haste for the doctor, there was 
 no persuading her to go back to madam. When she 
 did go, it was only to peep in and return. 
 
 " She is sleeping still," she said hopefully. " I am 
 sure you may be at ease about her now."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 223 
 
 " Yes, yes. It is good news. But I must not lie 
 here," he expostulated. " She will miss me." 
 
 " I will tell her what is the truth, that you have run 
 hither and thither until you have wearied yourself," said 
 Aveline. " She will desire that you should rest. Then 
 I will bring you her message, and when she knows it is 
 obeyed she will be satisfied." 
 
 " You are a good maid," he said. " Go, child, and 
 see to madam." 
 
 "Tired, is he?" asked madam, with a httle of the old 
 ring in her voice. " Surely it is not to be wondered at. 
 And you might well be accounted tired too, to judge by 
 your face. Go and tell him to rest, and do you lie 
 down and sleep. I want nothing more now." 
 
 There was more life in her voice than had been there 
 since the fever came. Avehne gladly took advantage 
 of the permission to hasten to Pieter's side with her 
 message. His face was flushed, and his breathing 
 laboured. 
 
 " How is she? " he asked. 
 
 '• Better, and she bids you rest." 
 
 "Tell her I will. Ah, Wyntie, lass, it's about the 
 only thing I could have obeyed you in. These old legs 
 have failed me. I can wait on you no longer." 
 
 He buried his face in the pillow, and Aveline heard 
 two or three heavy sobs. 
 
 " I'd have given much to have had one more look at 
 her," he said. " But I'm down for good. I tried it 
 when you were gone. There's no strength left in me." 
 
 Then he uncovered his face. 
 
 " My lass," he said, " I wanted to hear you call me 
 father before I went. You've been a daughter to Wyn- 
 tie and me in our need." 
 
 " But you were a father to me first, when I came to 
 you a stranger, and — " She stopped. He did not 
 notice that the sentence was unfinished.
 
 224 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " Would you have given me the right to call you 
 daughter in the end?" he said. 
 
 " Perhaps," she replied shyly, and he asked no further. 
 
 " I am glad the land is all secure for Geysbert," he 
 said. " You will learn yet to love the city. As for 
 Helmer, he is happier at the manor house." 
 
 She made him no reply. His words were not easy to 
 answer. 
 
 " She will recover," said the doctor briefly, when he 
 had seen madam. " Only keep her very quiet." 
 
 Then he went to Pieter. 
 
 "You'll not pull me through, doctor," said the old 
 man wistfully. " But you've done a bigger work than 
 that. You've saved her^ 
 
 "Saved her? Of course I have. What am I here 
 for but to save my patients? " he replied, but he gave no 
 opinion as to Pieter's condition, and he met Aveline's 
 inquiring look with a stony gaze that did not encourage 
 further questioning. 
 
 Aveline's heart was heavy when she saw him depart. 
 Madam must be kept quiet, and Pieter insisted on being 
 left alone so that her every want might be anticipated. 
 He made no complaint himself. 
 
 " ril just He still here," he said. " I'm no more use. 
 You'll have to do for her all by yourself, my poor lass." 
 
 " It is not that," said Aveline, " but I cannot bear to 
 leave you. It looks as if nobody cared, and I do care. 
 You have been so good to me." 
 
 That night madam insisted that she should rest, and 
 she crept softly to Pieter's side. He looked up in a 
 dull way as she entered. She put her hand in his. His 
 fingers closed about it. 
 
 " It is warm with life," he said. " I am too old to 
 have any more warm life. She II get well. She's 
 younger than I am. I'm cold, child, deadly cold. Life 
 and warmth are gone from me,"
 
 FREE TO SERVE 225 
 
 He looked at her pitifully. His fingers were stifif and 
 chilled. She hurried to put hot coals in the brass 
 warming-pan, and raise some artificial heat in the bed. 
 She warmed woollen clothing and laid it against him. 
 In spite of her efforts no warm blood rose to send the 
 blue, chill look from his hands. 
 
 " Never mind, my lass," he said, " Life and warmth 
 are good, but they won't last. Don't try any more. 
 It's no use. Sit here and put your hand in mine — so. 
 It is warm, and — it is not so hard to die without 
 Wyntie." 
 
 Her tears were falling fast. One dropped hot on his 
 hand. 
 
 " You'll comfort Geysbert — and Helmer. Helmer's 
 a good boy — the best of the two. His mother knows 
 it — but somehow — Geysbert has been his father's- 
 boy always." 
 
 There was a sound in madam's room. 
 
 " Go ! She needs you," he said, and the feeble hand 
 tried to loose its grasp. It was almost too stifif for the 
 task. 
 
 " It was only the cracking of a stick in the fire," said 
 Aveline, returning. 
 
 "And Wyntie? " 
 
 " She is asleep." 
 
 " Don't tell her till you are forced," he said. " She 
 must get better now." 
 
 Then he was silent for a long time. Once or twice 
 his lips moved, but when Aveline bent her head to listen, 
 no sound came. He was speaking, but not to her. She 
 kept silence reverently. Suddenly he spoke again. 
 
 " I'm cold — deadly cold," he said. 
 
 "Wyntie — " But the voice failed. The chill of 
 death swept resistlessly over the warm old heart, and 
 froze it into stillness. His wife's name was the last 
 he spoke.
 
 226 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 When madam woke and called for her, Aveline could 
 leave him without fear. She went about her duties for 
 the invalid, scarcely knowing that she did them. She 
 was stunned by the shock. Yesterday morning he had 
 taken his share of the burdens. Aveline remembered 
 how slowly and wearily he had struggled through them. 
 Her heart ached as she realized the bravery of that 
 lonely fight with pain and exhaustion.. She had hard 
 work to hide her agitation from madam, but for Pieter's 
 sake she fought off the weakness. 
 
 " He kept up for her to the very last," she said. " I 
 will not fail him now, and undo his work." 
 
 " You must keep it from her for another day or 
 two," said the doctor when he came, " I will arrange 
 for the funeral. Even a day may mean everything to 
 her." 
 
 Aveline shrank from the moment when she must tell 
 madam, and the dread of it grew upon her as the day 
 passed. Madam watched her closely. She did not 
 once ask after her husband, but she kept her eyes upon 
 the door, and her ears were open to every sound. Every 
 minute Aveline was expecting the question that did not 
 come. But as the light was fading out of the sky, and 
 she was returning from a journey downstairs, madam 
 greeted her with — 
 
 " If Pieter had the fever you would stay away longer 
 than you do." 
 
 The girl stood still in the doorway. Her heart also 
 stood still on its own account. 
 
 " I did not mean to stay," she faltered. 
 
 " That is neither here nor there, child. You have not 
 stayed. Why did you not, if Pieter were taken? " 
 
 " He has not the fever," said Aveline faintly. 
 
 " No. I know that." 
 
 There was silence. Aveline came in and shut the 
 door. A sense of the presence of death on the other
 
 FREE TO SERVE 227 
 
 side of the hall prompted the action. She felt as if she 
 must shut that presence away from madam. 
 
 " Come here, child." 
 
 There was a change in the voice. It had lost hope. 
 
 Aveline obeyed. 
 
 "Pieter would come to me if he were well, and if he 
 were sick you would go to him. What follows? " 
 
 " Oh, madam ! " 
 
 Aveline bent her head, and softly put her lips to the 
 white forehead. Madam put up her hand — a hand so 
 weak and thin — and drew the face into a position where 
 she could see it well. 
 
 " Tell me," she said, 
 
 " It was just like Pieter." It was the only comment 
 she made when all was told. 
 
 " Go away now, and leave me to myself," she said, 
 after a long silence. 
 
 Aveline went, fearful and trembling. Had the sudden 
 shock rendered futile all Pieter's efforts? She knew it 
 had not when she returned. 
 
 " I am going to get better to look after Pieter's boys 
 and Pieter's possessions," madam said firmly, and she 
 kept her word. 
 
 From that moment progress was rapid. She had set 
 her will on the side of recovery, and madam's will was 
 not to be despised. To get well was a duty she owed 
 to Pieter, and she got well. She would not allow Geys- 
 bert or Helmer to be sent for. 
 
 " Coming into the air of this doomed city would be 
 fatal for them," she said. 
 
 For the same reason she decided that Pieter should 
 be buried in New York. The usual funeral pomp 
 amongst tenants and acquaintances must be omitted. 
 Another solemn procession passed through the streets 
 of the city. A funeral was a common sight now. Death 
 was coming to be an every-day acquaintance. Through
 
 228 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 that summer he never allowed men to forget his pres- 
 ence. He was the town's uninvited guest, and he 
 stayed . 
 
 Over in Jamaica, Long Island, Lord Cornbury admin- 
 istered the affairs of the province, and the city was left 
 to its desolation. When it was over, men called that 
 summer the time of the great sickness. It left the city 
 as a whole five hundred souls the poorer, and robbed 
 individual homes of their best treasures.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 229 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 "^"TT TELCOME to the manor house, my child, 
 
 ^/\/ though of a truth it is hardly fair to show it 
 ▼ ▼ to you thus for the first time." 
 
 Madam Feljer was at home again. She entered the 
 house quickly. The summer sun fell full on the figure 
 of the girl who awaited her, standing in the hall with 
 her face turned towards the light. Involuntarily madam 
 stopped. It was five years since she had seen this girl, 
 and the years between fifteen and twenty are potent to 
 evolve the woman from the child. Madam was bewil- 
 dered. Was this the little Puritan maid whom she had 
 gone to comfort when Catharine, madam's only sister, 
 died? The conditions were reversed now. 
 
 " The house of mourning is better than the house of 
 feasting." 
 
 The voice was low and musical. It had in it a sug- 
 gestion of the music of wind and water, but it was the 
 wind sighing among the winter boughs, and the rhyth- 
 mical moan of the sea before a storm. It was the 
 harmony of sadness rather than the melody of joy. 
 
 The girl advanced towards madam as she spoke, and 
 held out both her hands. Then she stooped and kissed 
 the face that was lifted to hers. 
 
 " Dear Aunt Wyntie," she said softly, " the waters of 
 affliction are deep and cold." 
 
 Madam did not reply. For a minute she folded the 
 girl in her arms, then she held her off and looked at her. 
 Those big, dark, sad eyes were the child Probity's eyes, 
 but the face was changed. It had more than fulfilled 
 its promise of good looks, but it had prepared some 
 surprises. The mouth, over-large for the oval face, was
 
 230 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 too firm for the softer testimony of the eyes. The feat- 
 ures belied each other. The nose belonged to the 
 mouth, but the chin and forehead claimed affinity with 
 the eyes. Just now the whole face was agreed. It was 
 tender and sympathetic. 
 
 "You have grown amazingly, child. You must be — 
 yes — you are taller than Aveline." 
 
 She was standing very straight and still, her lithe, 
 slight figure looking taller in madam's presence. Possi- 
 bly she drew herself up a trifle higher at the words, but 
 the movement was scarcely perceptible. 
 
 " You have seen her — Aveline Nevard ? " 
 
 Madam asked the question a little eagerly. Her 
 niece had been awaiting her when she returned from the 
 house of a tenant. She had removed her out-door gar- 
 ments, and looked as if she had already become at home 
 in the manor house. Madam judged that her wants had 
 been attended to, possibly by Aveline herself. 
 
 " I have been here fully half an hour. Yes — I have 
 seen your maid." 
 
 " My daughter," said madam quickly. "Aveline has 
 performed the duty of a loving daughter to me and 
 Pieter. She was as a daughter to us even before." 
 
 " I understood from your letter that she had well 
 learned her duty, and had not shrunk from performing 
 it," said the girl. " It is well that one brought up amidst 
 the vanities of the world, as I doubt not she has been, 
 had grace enough so far to forget self." 
 
 The mouth was predominant now. 
 
 " You do not know Aveline," said madam quietly, 
 but she looked keenly at her niece. " How did you 
 find your way up from the landing?" she asked, after 
 a moment's silence. 
 
 " My cousin Geysbert perceived the yacht before she 
 neared her stopping place, and was at the lauding to 
 meet me. I did not lack the kindliest of welcomes."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 231 
 
 " That is well, for we are sufficiently glad to see you. 
 I must send my thanks to your father for sparing you to 
 us for an indefinite period. I take it kindly of Strive- 
 well." 
 
 " My father was not unwilling to spare me," said the 
 girl. " He bade me stay as long as I could be of ser- 
 vice, or until he himself should recall me." 
 
 There was a gleam in madam's eye that was not called 
 forth by the actual words of her niece. She was think- 
 ing that she understood Strivewell Thaxter's willingness 
 to bereave himself of the companionship of his only 
 child. There was a part of madam's letter to the old 
 Puritan that had not been intended for Probity's eye. 
 Aye, and it had not reached Probity's eye. Strivewell 
 Thaxter was a father of the olden type, a type that even 
 in those earliest years of the eighteenth century was 
 already the old. Strivewell had trained his daughter 
 for another world than the one in which he thought he 
 beheld nothing but vanity, yet he believed firmly that 
 the saints should possess the earth, and there was a 
 decent little piece of the earth that would eventually 
 fall into the hands of Wyntie Feljer's sons. Strivewell 
 was no hypocrite, but he was very human. 
 
 " What ! My cousin Probity? And you came when 
 none was looking for you ? " 
 
 Helmer threw wide open the door, and strode in with 
 a pleased smile on his face. 
 
 "Not so," said Probity. " There was one who was 
 looking. Geysbert was at home to receive me." 
 
 " Lucky Geysbert," said Helmer, and he claimed a 
 cousin's privilege, and kissed the soft cheek that for the 
 moment lost its ivory tint. 
 
 As he lifted his head, he saw Aveline standing in the 
 open doorway. There was a flush on her face, and a 
 look in her eyes that brought the quick words to Hel- 
 mer's lips.
 
 232 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " What is it? There is something wrong." 
 
 *' Kip," she said ; and the muscles about her month 
 worked sympathetically. 
 
 Now, if there was anything on earth that Helmer held 
 especially dear, it was his dog Kip. Ever since Kip 
 was a puppy, five years ago, the two had been insepa- 
 rable. It would have been hard to tell which would have 
 stood the greater test, the love of the young man for the 
 dog, or the love of the dog for the youth, his master. 
 
 "Where is he? " he asked hurriedly. 
 
 " By the Near Field. The reapers are at work there. 
 His leg is broken." 
 
 The words came with a smothered sob. Aveline too 
 loved Kip. 
 
 "Who did it?" 
 
 Helmer was already outside the door, taking rapid 
 strides in the direction of the Near Field. 
 
 " Geysbert." 
 
 Her voice was low, but it reached his ears. He 
 stopped, and turned towards her. 
 
 " Go," she said. " He is in need of you." 
 
 Helmer went without another word, but his lips were 
 pressed tightly together. 
 
 He did not know that Aveline's sympathies drew her 
 feet in the direction his own were taking, nor that Prob- 
 ity turned to her aunt when he was gone, and said : 
 
 " If you see no harm in the action, I will follow my 
 cousin Helmer. There were signs in his face of that 
 heat of spirit which may kindle strife." 
 
 "Nonsense, child," said madam. "You may go 
 where you like, but Helmer and Geysbert understand 
 each other well enough to be in no danger of being put 
 materially apart, though once and again they may find 
 cause to quarrel in brotherly style." 
 
 But when her niece was gone, madam stood in the 
 hall and looked out at the bright sunshine. Her hands
 
 FREE TO SERVE 233 
 
 were, for a wonder, unoccupied, and her face was troubled. 
 It was older-looking by years than when she left the 
 manor house for New York. Her neighbours said the 
 fever had told on her. Madam said : '* Pieter and I have 
 lived too long together for either to take up the whole 
 of life again without the other. You are looking for 
 Wyntie Feljer, the wife of Pieter. You see Wyntie 
 Feljer, the widow, and you give the fever the credit for 
 the change." 
 
 Probity had no difficulty in finding her way to the 
 Near Field. It lay just back of the barn, and she could 
 see the reapers at work there as she came nearer, and 
 hear the voice of her cousin Geysbert. 
 
 " Better shoot the brute and be done with it." 
 
 Geysbert stood inside the field, looking over the 
 fence. On his knees in the roadway Helmer was bend- 
 ing over Kip, his movements now and then eliciting a 
 quick yelp of pain, which was instantly atoned for by 
 an attempt to lick the hands that were pressing into the 
 torn and crushed flesh of the dog's leg. Helmer was 
 trying to bring the edges of the broken bone together. 
 
 " Which brute do you mean? I recognize but one 
 just now. The law doesn't allow that kind of brute to 
 be shot." 
 
 Helmer did not look up as he spoke. He was intent 
 on getting the bone in position. Geysbert understood 
 the tone, however. 
 
 " You want a bandage." 
 
 It was Aveline's voice. Helmer had not known that 
 she was there. He looked up surprised, but there was 
 no surprise on Geysbert's face. 
 
 " It was good of you to think of it," said Helmer, 
 and their eyes met as he took the strip of soft linen, 
 and the splint she had hastily procured. Tyte had 
 placed himself at Helmer's elbow to watch proceedings. 
 Nothing escaped his sharp eyes. He had already en-
 
 234 . FREE TO SERVE 
 
 lightened Mars'r Helmer as to the particular crack in 
 the rough logs by the gate where Kip had caught his 
 foot when Geysbert urged the oxen forward. 
 
 " Dat where he catch himself. Mars'r Geysbert make 
 the oxen go, for sure," said the small Tyte. 
 
 Helmer's face darkened as he listened, but all the 
 time he was examining Kip's leg. Now, as he drew the 
 bandage tight, he found time to look up. Something 
 in Geysbert's eye exasperated him, 
 
 "The next time you want to hurt me, don't do it 
 through a dog," he said, in a tone that, low as it was, 
 reached Probity's ears where she stood, out by the cor- 
 ner of the barn. " It is a method that is not altogether 
 safe." 
 
 " Anger is never safe, cousin Helmer." 
 
 She drew nearer. 
 
 " Well said, fair cousin. You must teach Helmer 
 here to look at life through your eyes. According to 
 your motto he is often in danger." 
 
 Geysbert laughed aggravatingly, and then stood and 
 noted the flush his words brought to another face than 
 Helmer's. 
 
 " It is worth running over a dog to attract such fair 
 sympathizers," he added, after a moment's silence 
 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 
 There was a ring in Aveline's voice that was not un- 
 noticed by Geysbert, though he chose to ignore it. 
 
 " Surely," he replied. " Nothing less would have 
 called together the present company." 
 
 " Or have given so good an opportunity for character 
 to display itself," said Avehne, the colour in her cheeks 
 deepening. 
 
 Geysbert looked annoyed, but he stood his ground. 
 
 " Kip is a lucky dog," he remarked. 
 
 The dog's great sorrowful eyes were turned upward at 
 the sound of his name.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 235 
 
 " Come, Kip," said Helmer shortly. " Better try 
 and get out of the way, old boy. It might be found 
 inconvenient to avoid driving over you when the oxen 
 return." 
 
 '* You're a peppery fellow," said Geysbert, and turned 
 away whistling. 
 
 Probity laid her hand on Helmer's arm. 
 
 " Cousin," she said, " the avoidance of unjust judg- 
 ment is as shining a virtue as compassion itself. The 
 rarely beautiful gift of brotherly love is worth seeking 
 for." 
 
 " That's right. Probity. Give him a little cousinly 
 advice. He is in sad need of it," said Geysbert, over 
 his shoulder. 
 
 He nodded familiarly to his cousin, including Aveline 
 in the action, and went whistling across the field to 
 where the oxen stood yoked to the big wagon. He 
 chuckled a little to himself. 
 
 Probity had proved very helpful. He began to see 
 that cousins might be useful on occasion. 
 
 He was not sorry for Kip. Had it been any other 
 dog than Kip he might have been sorry. Had it been 
 any other dog than Kip he would probably have been less 
 impetuous. He had seen the animal, and carelessly 
 noted his movements as he caught his foot in the rough 
 bridge by the gate. A negro on the other side had even 
 called — " Look out, Mars'r Geysbert ! " but the warning 
 was late. Geysbert had already urged on the oxen. 
 The wagon rolled forward. Of course he had expected 
 that the brute would look out for himself, and if not — 
 why, he must take the consequences. Thus he had 
 reasoned, when that sharp scream of pain told him that 
 Kip had not been able to look out for himself. He did 
 not reason now ; he smiled, and exulted a little. 
 
 Pieter Feljer was right. One plum for two mouths 
 was a tantalizing morsel. It had proved more tantaliz-
 
 236 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 ing than he had realized, and the mouth that was Hke 
 to get the least of it found in itself a bitter taste. 
 
 Since the day of the chaise-party feeling had not been 
 as of old between Geysbert and Helmer. The quarrel 
 with Myndert had further widened the breach. Neither 
 Helmer nor Geysbert could quite get rid of the idea 
 that the latter was involved in the quarrel, and when, 
 one day, Helmer found himself called upon to give 
 the savage insolence of young Myndert an effectual les- 
 son, Geysbert chose to take the matter as a personal 
 affront. 
 
 As for Myndert himself, he could never forgive Hel- 
 mer for laying him low in the presence of his own 
 slaves, and though, after the further development of the 
 case, he had a wholesome dread of the strength of Hel- 
 mer's arm, he watched for an opportunity to get even 
 with him without danger to himself. 
 
 The weeks during which Pieter and Madam Feljer 
 were in New York were not, on the whole, peaceable ones 
 at the manor house. Pieter Feljer's death, and madam's 
 return, had for the time caused all differences to be for- 
 gotten, but the breach was not healed. 
 
 Aveline and Probity walked from the Near Field 
 together. They could hardly help walking together, 
 because it was the most natural thing to do. But just 
 now it was not the easiest. There was some difficulty 
 in being non-partisan. Aveline had herself witnessed 
 the affair of the oxen, though from some distance, and 
 her sympathies were with Kip — and Kip's master. 
 The flush had not yet left her cheek. She did not know 
 how that warmer hue, and the fire in her eyes, lent brill- 
 iancy to a face that Probity had already decided pos- 
 sessed too much carnal beauty to be of anything but the 
 earth. Probity turned her head to gain a good view of 
 the face under its present aspect. She even leant for- 
 ward, ever so slightly, the more effectually to compass
 
 FREE TO SERVE 237 
 
 her purpose. The charm of that face deepened the 
 disapproval in Probity's eyes. She concluded that the 
 flush of anger unmistakably betokened an earthward 
 tendency. 
 
 " You have not yet entered upon the blessed office 
 of peacemaker in my aunt's household," she said, and 
 the music in her voice was less soothing than when she 
 greeted her aunt. 
 
 Aveline darted an interrogatory glance at her. 
 
 " No — possibly because hitherto there has arisen no 
 strife-maker," she said, after a perceptible interval. 
 
 " My cousin Helmer has, I think, less control of his 
 passions than has Geysbert," said Probity. " It is a 
 great thing to so discipline the will that it shall not 
 yield before the onslaughts of temptation," 
 
 Aveline made no answer. Possibly she found her 
 own passions not completely under control at that 
 moment. 
 
 "Well, did you find your kind offices necessary?" 
 asked madam, as the two entered the house. 
 
 " Yes — very necessary, I think," said Probity slowly, 
 while Aveline, who supposed the question to refer to 
 the splint and the bandage with which she had pro- 
 vided herself, replied quietly : 
 
 " The splint came in useful." 
 
 Madam looked keenly from one to the other. 
 
 " Physicians for the mind and the body," she said 
 drily.
 
 238 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 )> 
 
 " "^ "T TELL, what is the judgment? 
 
 %/%/ Probity turned her face suddenly towards 
 ▼ T her aunt. There was a sHght flush on it, 
 caused by the unexpected question. She removed her 
 eyes from the two figures disappearing in the gathering 
 darkness. Probity had not known that it was a case of 
 double study. Ever since Geysbert and Aveline ascended 
 the hill she had been watching them with an intent ear- 
 nestness that meant more than mere curiosity. Now she 
 knew that madam had been watching her. 
 
 She hesitated a moment before answering. Then her 
 words came slowly. She was weighing each one. 
 
 "About Aveline? She is winsome — surely — and 
 good — in a measure. But I think, dear aunt Wyntie, 
 that when you bought her for your maid, you bought 
 much trouble along with her. She is over-winsome, 
 and not good enough." 
 
 "Where will you find a better?" Madam spoke 
 curtly. 
 
 " Truly that were no light task." 
 
 Probity paused. Her eyes had gone back to their 
 watching. The two had turned now, and were coming 
 back, lingering to look at the brightening red of the line 
 of fire down the river, ostensibly the reason for their 
 evening stroll. Probity had been generously asked to 
 share the walk to the point where a better view of the 
 fire was to be obtained. That she decided to stay with 
 madam on the wide piazza was not altogether due to 
 thoughtfulness for her aunt Wyntie. 
 
 " Looked at through your eyes," she resumed — " and 
 perchance through other eyes than yours — she has
 
 FREE TO SERVE 239 
 
 much, you would possibly say everything, to recom- 
 mend her. Yet, dear aunt, even to you it must appear 
 that peace is better than strife." 
 
 " What has peace to do with it? The child is peace- 
 able enough, in all truth." 
 
 " And peace-destroying enough." 
 
 Madam sighed. It was a short, impatient sigh. 
 
 " That is no fault of hers," she said. 
 
 " May I speak plainly, aunt Wyntie ? " Probity asked 
 the question doubtfully. 
 
 " Surely, child. What is the use of beating about the 
 bush?" 
 
 "Then, dear aunt, is it not fault of yours?" 
 
 " Scarcely," said madam shortly. 
 
 " Would it be an injustice to the girl if you should 
 give her, or allow her to purchase, her freedom, with the 
 understanding that she seek her brother's protection?" 
 
 "Banish the sun because the plants turn their faces 
 too persistently towards it, eh? " 
 
 Madam's eyes shone a little in the growing darkness. 
 
 " Better so than that the plants should be deformed 
 by overmuch turning," said Probity gravely. 
 
 " You never liked Aveline," commented madam. 
 
 Probity hesitated. 
 
 " Possibly your accusation is just," she said. " Such 
 attraction as hers, mere carnal beauty, does not of itself 
 appeal to me. Yet I would not be unfair to her. With 
 more heart-training, with the discipline that such a spirit 
 as hers sadly needs, I doubt not she might yet become 
 an estimable character, and her external beauty be the 
 symbol of inward loveliness." 
 
 " You are gracious." 
 
 The tone was sarcastic. It brought a deeper tint to 
 Probity's cheek. She had thought she was speaking in 
 moderation and fairness ; she was certainly trying to be 
 just.
 
 240 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " I would not willingly be ?/;/gracious," she said softly. 
 " If my words seem harsh, it is because of the weight of 
 earnestness behind them. My heart is sometimes heavy 
 by reason of that to which I cannot shut my eyes. It 
 is six weeks since I came to this house of mourning, 
 and not one has passed in which it has not become the 
 house of strife." 
 
 " You take things too seriously," said madam ; but the 
 words struck home. 
 
 " It may in truth be so. I was ever of a serious dis- 
 position," began Probity; but her speech was cut short 
 by the appearance of a small negro boy, running as if 
 life depended on his expedition. 
 
 Geysbert and Aveline were at that moment coming 
 near again. The boy hesitated, went a step towards 
 them, and then changed his mind and mounted the piazza 
 steps. His rapid run toned down to a solemn walk as 
 he approached madam. He made a grotesque attempt 
 at a bow. Tyte was always very ceremonious to Mars' r 
 Helmer's mother. 
 
 "Well, Tyte, what is it?" 
 
 " Mars'r Helmer say will Missy Av'line and Missy 
 Pro'ty go down to de landing? He get a boat and take 
 dem to see de fire. Mars'r Helmer say it very fine 
 to-night." 
 
 "So! And have you no invitation for me?" asked 
 madam. 
 
 Tyte shook his head gravely. 
 
 " No, mad'm. Mars'r Helmer only say Missy Av'line 
 and Missy Pro'ty. He tell me bring him word so he 
 know." 
 
 Aveline had drawn near. 
 
 "To see the fire?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, missy. Mars'r Helmer want you and Missy 
 Pro'ty." 
 
 Tyte was overflowing with importance.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 241 
 
 " Tell him we will come — that is, if — " 
 
 She broke off, and looked at Probity. 
 
 Probity did not speak. She was searching Geysbert's 
 face. 
 
 " That is, if you so desire," continued Aveline, in a 
 less energetic tone. " For myself, I have wished to see 
 the fire more closely since it first began to grow big 
 and imposing." 
 
 " What think you, cousin Geysbert? Will the sight 
 be worth the making up of a party to go and see it?" 
 asked Probity. 
 
 " Possibly you might think so," said her cousin. 
 " From the water it is often grand." 
 
 " Then I will go, provided you engage to do the 
 honours," she replied. 
 
 Long after their voices had died away madam sat 
 watching the line of light a short distance down, on the 
 other side of the Hudson. The new owners of the land 
 had borrowed from the Indians the custom of settins: 
 the underbrush of the woods on fire in the autumn. 
 The clearance thus effected facilitated hunting and made 
 the grass grow better in the spring. Madam's eyes 
 were turned towards the bright glow, but her thoughts 
 were not with them. 
 
 " I was a foolish old woman to flatter myself that I 
 could mend matters," she said to herself at last, and 
 again there was that impatient sigh. 
 
 Madam was just now in the position of one who, seek- 
 ing to guide events, finds that the steeds have the bit 
 between their teeth. She had imagined her hand to be 
 very effectually on the reins when she sent that letter to 
 Strivewell Thaxter. The letter had not failed of its pur- 
 pose, as Probity's presence testified, but events were 
 none the less refractory. 
 
 " Six weeks since she came, is it? " mused madam. 
 " Six weeks, and no whit the forwarder with either the
 
 242 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 one or the other. It is not the fault of her face, for 
 truly 'tis but a question of taste which is the handsomer 
 of the two." 
 
 The purpose which had given strength to madam's 
 determination to get well was to-day as firm as ever. 
 To carry out Pieter's wishes, and see Pieter's lads happy 
 and prosperous according to his ideas, was the task to 
 the accomplishment of which she set herself with her 
 usual energetic decision. Everything was in her hands, 
 for Pieter had never doubted that madam's wisdom was 
 greater than his own, and madam herself had never had 
 the smallest doubt of that wisdom — until now. Now, 
 with two lads and two lasses on her hands, she was 
 unwillingly convinced that there were not enough lasses 
 for the lads, and perchance, also, not enough lads for the 
 lasses. 
 
 " She is a good maid, and Catharine's own girl. I 
 would gladly welcome her as a daughter," said madam. 
 " If Geysbert had only eyes to see — but he is strangely 
 blind." 
 
 She rose and walked the length of the piazza. She 
 did not notice how the time was passing. A brighter 
 light shot up into the sky from the neighbourhood of 
 the river. 
 
 " The tree-tops are catching fire," said madam. " The 
 sight will be worth seeing." 
 
 She sat down again, and her thoughts wandered to 
 Pieter. His heart had been set on seeing Aveline Geys- 
 bert's wife. To madam it would have been greater joy 
 to know that Helmer — Well, never mind. Pieter's 
 desire must be accomplished, if possible, only — was it 
 possible? Geysbert should have every facility to win 
 Aveline — if he could — and Helmer might yet solace 
 himself with Probity. She had hoped that Geysbert's 
 desire would change, that he would have the wish of his 
 heart, and that wish be — Probity. Now she was wiser.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 243 
 
 " Surely it is getting late." 
 
 Madam passed into the house to consult Pieter's big 
 silver watch, Pieter had been proud of that watch, and 
 madam made it the standard of time at the manor house. 
 Now, as she approached it, it lifted up its voice, as if 
 in reproach, and solemnly struck ten musical strokes. 
 From the holes in the massive silver case, purposely 
 made to let out the sound, each stroke 'came with a 
 note of warning. 
 
 " Ten o'clock, and they are not back yet ! Nor com- 
 ing," added madam, as she hastily returned to her post 
 of observation, and bent her head to listen. 
 
 Crickets chirped, and frogs croaked with exasper- 
 ating loudness, but there was nothing else to be heard. 
 The world of the manor house was asleep, but Pieter's 
 watch was awake and working. Once again it made its 
 voice heard, proclaiming that it lacked but an hour of 
 midnight. Madam was becoming alarmed. 
 
 " Surely something must be wrong," she said aloud, 
 and as if in answer came the words : " All right ! Here 
 we are." 
 
 " Helmer ! What can you have been thinking about 
 to stay out so late? " she called sharply. 
 
 Helmer and the two girls were coming rapidly tow- 
 ards her. 
 
 " Thinking of ? Being caught in the fire. At least 
 that was the fate that threatened my cousin," replied 
 Helmer. " Here she is. I give her back into your 
 hands safe and sound. It is not Geysbert's fault that 
 I am able to do so." 
 
 He spoke lightly, but there was an undertone that 
 made madam ask imperatively : 
 
 " What do you mean? Where have you all been? " 
 
 " In the boat, so far as half the all are concerned," 
 said Helmer. " Aveline and I were wise, and kept to 
 safe ground, but my cousin here was led astray."
 
 244 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Probity stepped up to her aunt, and the light from 
 the open door fell on her face. It was paler than usual. 
 
 " Dear aunt," she said, " the story would be more 
 calmly told after it has been slept over. We were in 
 some danger, but we were mercifully preserved. Will 
 you give permission to leave all remark upon the occur- 
 rence until the morning?" 
 
 Her voice was not as full and rich as usual. There 
 was a tired ring in it that did not escape Helmer's notice. 
 
 " Poor cousin," he said, " it was unduly hard on you. 
 You were more frightened than you acknowledged. 
 Yet, if you will be so brave, you must not be surprised 
 that you meet with little sympathy." 
 
 " I am tired. I think I will go in — and to rest," said 
 Probity. " Cousin Helmer, I would fain ask you to do 
 the same." 
 
 He was silent for a moment. Then he held out his 
 hand. 
 
 " You may cry victory, fair preacher," he said. " I 
 will keep the peace." 
 
 " I take it kindly of you that you give the promise so 
 readily," she said. 
 
 There was a slight gasp at the end of her words. 
 Helmer's right hand had lightly touched her left as he 
 moved away. She passed quickly into the house, and 
 upstairs to her own room. 
 
 "Helmer! " 
 
 In all his life Helmer had never disregarded that tone. 
 He stopped and faced round. 
 
 "What is all this about?" 
 
 " Ask Geysbert." 
 
 " I asked you." 
 
 " Nothing but a bit of foolhardiness on Geysbert's 
 part. He could best explain it himself. I have prom- 
 ised to keep the peace." He broke off with an awkward 
 laugh.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 245 
 
 " There is none to quarrel with here," said madam 
 coldly. " I desire an explanation." 
 
 " It is easily given. We ran down below the fire, 
 and sat looking at it. Then Geysbert wished to per- 
 suade the maidens to go ashore. He declared it to be 
 safe, and promised them the sight of many fire-driven 
 creatures escaping for their lives. I warned him the 
 wind was turning to north. If I had held my peace, 
 perchance he would not have been so determined." 
 
 Helmer spoke bitterly. 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " Aveline stayed, but Probity decided to run the risk. 
 And she ran it. A sudden rising of the wind sent the 
 flames sweeping round the bit of marshy land to which 
 they had made their way, and before they were aware of 
 it, they were almost hemmed in. We shouted, and put 
 in to shore, but Probity had a fall, and the heat of the 
 flames was intense before the boat was reached," 
 
 " And Geysbert? What excuse did he give?" 
 
 " He vouchsafed none." 
 
 " That will do. It would be as well for you to follow 
 Probity's advice." 
 
 Madam's voice was hard, but she put her hand on her 
 younger son's arm. 
 
 He stooped and kissed her, and that night he care- 
 fully avoided meeting with his brother. 
 
 " Aunt Wyntie ! " 
 
 Madam was passing her niece's door. It stood ajar. 
 
 " What, child ! Not yet abed ? " 
 
 " I desired greatly to spare you anxiety, but my 
 efforts to properly arrange this bandage have been with- 
 out avail. I must even ask your help," said Probity. 
 
 "Help? You are not hurt?" 
 
 " Not seriously. I had a fall — " 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 Probity looked at her inquiringly.
 
 246 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " No. There has been nothing of what you call strife. 
 What about the fall?" 
 
 " I saved myself with my left hand. The wrist re- 
 ceived a twist." 
 
 "And you said nothing about it. Foolish child ! " 
 
 But madam bandaged the sprained member with skil- 
 ful fingers, and stayed by her niece until she saw her 
 safe in bed. 
 
 " There, go to sleep, and leave the knots of life to be 
 straightened out by more clever fingers than yours," 
 she said kindly. 
 
 It seemed that other minds than Probity's were exer- 
 cised about those same knots. It was only the next 
 day that Madam Feljer stood in the cool dairy watching 
 the filling of a tub with butter. To all appearance she 
 was intent on the butter-making, yet when Ryseck 
 Schredel suddenly lifted her head and began to speak, 
 the words seemed but an echo of madam's own thought. 
 
 " I don't call myself quite a fool," she said, " and 
 what I can't do, I don't reckon any other body's going 
 to do either. And / never found it any use yet to ofi'er 
 a child a bit of a lighted candle when it was crying for 
 the moon. It's nothing but a wicked waste of the 
 candle." 
 
 Ryseck allowed her eyes to wander from the tub of 
 butter over which she was pouring the fresh pickle. 
 Then she straightened herself and faced Madam Feljer 
 as she added : 
 
 " You may send all the way to New England, or to 
 Old Nederland, or anywhere else, to get the finest and 
 best of candles, but the lad that wants the moon will 
 take nothing less." 
 
 Madam looked at her fixedly. 
 
 "There is only one moon," she said. 
 
 " To be sure. And while it shines on both, neither 
 the one nor the other will be content with less."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 247 
 
 She bent over the butter again. The pickle did not 
 yet fill the tub. For Ryseck to take her eyes off a tub 
 of butter when it was not yet properly salted and pre- 
 pared, was so unusual a circumstance that it might in 
 itself account for madam's silent gaze. Ryseck had 
 not come all the way from Holland for the express 
 purpose of attending to the Feljer dairy, to have the 
 butter anything else than worthy of herself. She gave no 
 further sign that any subject save that of butter-making 
 was capable of attracting her attention. It was not 
 until the tub was filled to her satisfaction, and carefully 
 bestowed in the cool tile-lined press where it could by 
 no possibility come in contact with any odour, or — that 
 greater abomination — any uncleanliness, that another 
 word was spoken. Then madam said: 
 
 " The moon will shine, though all the world should 
 cry for it." 
 
 " Not on every spot at once," replied Ryseck sagely, 
 and her inquisitorial eyes had time now to return 
 madam's scrutiny. 
 
 " I was foolish enough to think there might be found 
 another moon," said madam, with a smile that was not 
 without some bitterness. 
 
 Ryseck shook her head. 
 
 " 'Tis not in Mistress Probity that the fault is to be 
 found," she said. " Eyes that are dazzled with over- 
 much light are not to be blamed if they fail to see 
 clearly. Neither the one nor the other has an eye to 
 spy out her virtues. If she had come first, they might 
 have been fighting for her now, though, to be sure, they 
 are neither of them fools." 
 
 Which latter statement rather clearly indicated that 
 Ryseck's own eyes were a little affected in the matter of 
 partial vision. 
 
 Madam looked at her intently. 
 
 " Better be content with butter-moulding, and leave
 
 248 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 events to mould themselves, or there may perchance be 
 two foolish women instead of one," she said. 
 
 But when, on that same day, there seemed to come 
 an opportunity to do a little moulding on her own 
 account, madam did not follow out her own advice. 
 
 Probity was set aside from active duty to-day. 
 Madam insisted on it, and Aveline, with a little com- 
 punction for her lively partisanship of the night before, 
 was very tender and attentive to her. Her ministra- 
 tions lasted until just before the noonday meal, and 
 then she was surely to be excused if the sprained wrist 
 was only remembered spasmodically, and with little 
 penitent efforts to atone for the forgetfulness. For with 
 Fulke present, watching his sister's movements, and 
 winning for himself a nod or two of approbation from 
 madam, as he discoursed on his plans, and incidentally 
 gave proof of his successes, Aveline's attention was 
 necessarily much divided. 
 
 Fulke's last winter's experiment of trading to the 
 West Indies was to be repeated, and he was on his way 
 to take practical charge of the same sloop, her skipper 
 being already in New York awaiting his arrival. The 
 yacht in which he had descended the river was loaded 
 with Albany flour, than which there was no better — 
 and scarce as good — to be found in the province, and 
 a few horses had been added as a further venture. 
 
 The young man was the Fulke of London days con- 
 siderably modified. The dash which had made him 
 one with some of the most reckless youths of the city, 
 was still clearly discernible. In truth, it was this dash 
 — bordering on recklessness — which had first attracted 
 Roger Bennet's attention. 
 
 " The lad is as capable of putting himself into the 
 accomplishing of a dangerous bit of business, as of 
 putting his soul into the turn of a bow or the hang of a 
 rag of lace," he had decided.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 249 
 
 At the present time Roger was taking to himself no 
 small amount of credit for discernment. His partner 
 was making money for both, and was justifying Roger's 
 action in bringing him over the sea. 
 
 Madam was benevolent — decidedly so. The lad 
 was prospering, and prosperity was a sign of wit and 
 worth. She welcomed him cordially, and took con- 
 siderable interest in the news he brought from Albany. 
 
 " And my Lord Cornbury? You have, I think, had 
 the good gentleman in Albany this summer," she 
 said. 
 
 " Yes, and he has shown much dignity and discretion. 
 I have not heard that he has once personated his illus- 
 trious cousin. Queen Anne, or done aught that could 
 detract from an honourable name," said Fulke. " He 
 was good enough to show me some kindness, and to 
 give me one or two small commissions to execute for 
 him in his dealing with the Indians whom he came to 
 meet." 
 
 "Ah, a great conference, I doubt not," replied madam, 
 " and the good governor has surely done much to keep 
 the natives in their duty and allegiance to their sover- 
 eign." 
 
 " Oh, the covenant chain is exceptionally bright just 
 at present," responded Fulke, laughing. '* It will not 
 grow rusty so long as the powder and knives and rum 
 of the governor's present are on hand to brighten it. 
 When they are done with, it may suddenly become 
 dimmed." 
 
 " Yes, it requires much wisdom to keep them from 
 going over to our French enemies," said madam. " Yet 
 they of the Five Nations have been to us a wall against 
 the foe." 
 
 " Far be it from me to quarrel with my bread and 
 butter," said Fulke, with mock earnestness. " Truly 
 they are not altogether a foolish people. At times
 
 2 50 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 their actions show them to be veritable courtiers. At 
 this very conference the sachems of these nations 
 honoured his Excellency by appearing before his lodg- 
 ing and singing a mournful song which they had made 
 upon the death of his late Majesty, King William the 
 Third, of blessed memory." 
 
 " Did they so? " said madam. " It was well meant. 
 Such a spirit of loyalty must have made the conference 
 an easier matter to my Lord Cornbury." 
 
 " Aye, but if these wily natives can flatter, they can 
 speak plainly too," returned Fulke. " The governor 
 had an opportunity of judging of the astuteness of the 
 Indian mind when Onuchenanorum, a sachem of the 
 Maquase, stood up and solemnly informed his Excel- 
 lency that one of the reasons why so many of their 
 brethren traded with Canada was that the Albany 
 weights, with which we weigh the bear and other skins, 
 are too heavy withal, and that they did not consider 
 themselves fairly treated by the traders. He further 
 affirmed that the best way to draw their Indians back 
 again from Canada was to let the goods be cheaper, a 
 means of attracting them which would doubtless prove 
 effective," 
 
 " The good man was in earnest about the cheapening 
 of the goods," commented madam. " Unquestionably 
 the subject lay near his heart." 
 
 "That did it," replied Fulke, "for it went so far as 
 to affect his religious views. He declared the willing- 
 ness of his people to consult about having ministers in 
 their castles, to instruct them, in the place of the French 
 priests. But this too was conditional on the cheapness of 
 the goods, for when the goods were cheaper Onuchenano- 
 rum argued that the Indian could afford to buy a good 
 honest coat to go to church withal, for it would be 
 scandalous to come to church with a bear-skin on his 
 back."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 251 
 
 " Not a bad argument for the red man," said madam, 
 laughing. 
 
 « " Their sachems are surely not without worldly wis- 
 dom," said Fulke, " or one of them would not have 
 gravely proposed to my Lord Cornbury that his gener- 
 ous gift of fifty kegs of rum should be bestowed in some 
 safe place until the conference was over, since they 
 were but now just begun, and if their people should fall 
 a-drinking they would be unfit for business. The pro- 
 posal was worthy of a statesman." 
 
 "Truly. And was it listened to? " 
 
 " It was. Mr. Livingston's cellar was appointed as 
 the place of custody for this dangerous gift. Yet did 
 not the conference end without disaster. A sachem 
 of the River Indians perished at the hands of those 
 dastardly negroes, and four black necks were sentenced 
 to wear the halter." 
 
 Madam nodded. 
 
 " 'Tis right that the Indian should learn that our 
 nation values his life," she said. " It was well that the 
 murderers were executed." 
 
 Aveline shuddered. 
 
 " Poor creatures," she said. " Possibly they knew 
 but little more than the red men themselves." 
 
 " The halter would teach them," replied Fulke 
 
 lightly. 
 
 " Truly, Justice is a hard teacher," said Probity slowly, 
 " yet the transgressor must needs learn her lessons." 
 
 " In this case he did not so learn. At least only one 
 of the transgressors came under the rod," said Fulke, 
 turning to Probity. " Mercy stepped in, and in no less 
 strange a guise than an Indian sachem. The River 
 Indians declared themselves satisfied that our people 
 had done all in their power for their wounded brother, 
 even going so far as to be willing to avenge his death, 
 but they desired no more lives to be lost, and they
 
 252 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 pleaded that death should not overtake the mur- 
 derers." 
 
 "And my Lord Cornbury? What answer did he 
 make to that?" demanded madam. 
 
 " The answer of clapping the halter about the neck 
 of the ringleader, and reserving the rest for the royal 
 judgment," replied Fulke. " He mingled stern justice 
 with mercy, and duly impressed the savage mind there- 
 with, and further healed the wounded spirits of the 
 Indians by promising that the friends of the murdered 
 man should be compensated for their loss according to 
 Indian usage. Oh, the new governor is a sufficiently 
 discreet man, and well instructed in his dealings with 
 the natives." 
 
 " I do not doubt it. I thought him a kindly gentle- 
 man and a wise governor when we met him in New 
 York," replied madam. 
 
 And then she sighed, and relapsed into silence, and 
 the young men talked together of Fulke's movements. 
 
 "You're a lucky fellow," remarked Helmer. "No 
 droning in the country for you this winter, but change 
 of scene and fresh adventures all the time." 
 
 " Better take a trip with me," suggested Fulke. 
 
 "Not I. I'm a drone by nature. The manor house 
 and the snow suit me," replied Helmer, laughing. 
 
 Yet when Fulke's yacht left the landing-place on the 
 following morning, Helmer was on board, having turned 
 his back on the manor house for a period of three 
 months. It came about as a result of madam's mould- 
 ing, and was intended to bring that peace on behalf 
 of which Probity's mind was exercised. 
 
 There was at the back of the manor house a room 
 opening into a narrow passage. The tenants knew it 
 well, for here Pieter Feljer first, and now madam her- 
 self, transacted all business connected with the estate. 
 It was when passing the door of this room that Helmer
 
 FREE TO SERVE 253 
 
 heard his mother's voice calling him, and turned in. 
 Then it was that madam did an unheard-of thing, and 
 one that few who knew her would have given her credit 
 for. She frankly owned herself unequal to the occa- 
 sion that had arisen, and appealed to her son for help. 
 There was a long and hot argument, but madam came 
 off the victor. And what was more, the vanquished was 
 not altogether dissatisfied. 
 
 '* The present position is anything but satisfactory," 
 he said. " I will go, and when Yorke booms with New 
 Year's guns, I will start for home. And then I will 
 stand aside for no one." 
 
 " You will not need to stand aside. Geysbert shall 
 understand that he has three months in which to win 
 or lose. After that the field is open." 
 
 It was not all magnanimity that prompted Helmer 
 to leave the manor house and Aveline at this junc- 
 ture. He thought he was so far sure of his ground 
 that he had less to fear from going than from stay- 
 ing. Aveline might or might not love him, but she 
 did not love Geysbert. Madam did not deny the 
 assertion. 
 
 " Let him find it out his own way," she said. " He 
 will take it less hard when you are out of sight. He is 
 the elder, and in a manner he is entitled to the first 
 chance. So your father thought. Let him have it. 
 Afterwards, should he find that the prize is not for him, 
 he cannot blame you. Your father's sons cannot afford 
 to quarrel, even for Aveline." 
 
 •'But you will not attempt to coerce her? She is 
 to be allowed fair play?" 
 
 Helmer spoke hastily. It was a contingency that 
 had not occurred to him before. 
 
 " It is full time you left home, when it comes to 
 doubting my honour," said madam. " Neither of my 
 sons is the lad his father knew. Truly, love is a strange
 
 254 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 thing, since it brings enough hatred in its train to set a 
 whole household by the ears." 
 
 And that was her last word on the subject. 
 
 Helmer could not have sworn that he was not glad 
 to bring matters to a crisis. He would have spoken to 
 Aveline before, but it seemed no time for wooing. 
 Then, when Geysbert's animosity showed itself vigor- 
 ously, he feared to distress his mother by the outburst 
 that must follow any avowal on his part. He waited 
 impatiently, chafing at the restraint. It would be better I 
 to go anywhere than to be always living over a mine 
 that might any day explode. He did not fear Geysbert's 
 influence — much. But he would have been glad if the 
 three months' probation had been over.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 255 
 
 W 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 INTER was belated, or the fifteenth of Decem- 
 ber would never have found the Hudson open, 
 and the ground unblanketed. And something 
 beside winter was belated. Geysbert had felt it for a 
 long time — the tardiness of his wooing of Aveline. It 
 surely was not his fault. His ardour was strong enough 
 to overcome any obstacle but one — and that a girl's 
 will. 
 
 Geysbert had been very amiable for the past ten weeks, 
 and very gay. Probity had felt the charm of his manner, 
 and yielded herself to it. Since Helmer's departure 
 there had been no more " strife " at the manor house. 
 Madam watched events, and sighed once or twice as she 
 realized that the departure of her younger son had 
 brought peace. She had expected it, and yet — it did 
 not quite please her. 
 
 Geysbert was at his very best during those weeks. 
 Madam could see no cause for complaint, and she did 
 not complain. But she looked more than a little 
 anxiously for the crisis. It would have come sooner, 
 had not Aveline scented danger. She was shy as a 
 wild bird, and as hard to catch, in those days. She had 
 never been so gentle to madam as now, nor so quiet 
 and sisterly to Geysbert, but the impossibility of getting 
 near her drove him almost frantic. Probity, too, found 
 her attentive. She insisted on Probity's company when- 
 ever the same was practicable, and almost succeeded in 
 making Geysbert hate his cousin. 
 
 Probity had not learned to approve of Aveline. Per- 
 haps she could have found it in her heart to approve of 
 her more had Geysbert approved of her less. But she 
 
 I
 
 256 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 saw no good ground for censure, though she watched 
 her with far-seeing eyes. 
 
 The crisis might have been yet further delayed if 
 madam herself had not come to the rescue. She sent 
 Aveline on a commission to a house some two miles off, 
 and detailed Geysbert to see to her safety. And she 
 expressly provided for the employment of Probity 
 within doors on that clear December day. When the 
 two returned, the crisis had come, and passed. Madam 
 knew it by the nervous, half-penitent air with which 
 Aveline passed Geysbert and ran up the steps, and by 
 her eagerness to get away to her own room. She did 
 not succeed in escaping. Madam called her into the 
 big fire-lighted living room, and over to herself. 
 
 " You should have something to tell me, child," she 
 said. " Is it not so? " 
 
 " Madam, I think not," replied Aveline, with a little 
 flash of pride. " Geysbert had something to tell me, 
 but we should both have been happier had it been left 
 untold." 
 
 " Are you sure of that, child ? " 
 
 " Quite sure, madam." 
 
 " There have been foolish maidens who have not 
 known their own minds, and who have learned to mourn 
 for that which their hand turned away," said madam. 
 " You would do well to have a care lest you become one 
 of their number." 
 
 Aveline made no answer. 
 
 " Hearts are not offered every day," continued the 
 lady reproachfully. 
 
 Then Aveline's calmness gave way, and she fell on 
 her knees by madam's side, and buried her face in 
 her lap. 
 
 " Madam, I am sorry. But I could not take that 
 which Geysbert offered, and I could not give that which 
 he desired to take," she whispered. " Why does he not
 
 FREE TO SERVE 257 
 
 see that — that — there is another who could give him 
 what I — I have — " 
 
 " Already bestowed. There, child, dry your eyes, 
 and let your mind be at peace. I am satisfied. I ask 
 not for my son Geysbert an empty heart. He him- 
 self will yet learn that it would be a poor gift." 
 
 She put her hand tenderly on the girl's head. 
 
 "Be patient, my daughter," she said. " It is a virtue 
 more needed than any other, and never more needed 
 than now." 
 
 Madam sighed, and the firelight danced, and the 
 minutes passed. 
 
 " There, child, go upstairs and take off those heavy 
 wraps," said madam at last, in a different tone, " and 
 leave the troubles behind you. They'll right themselves 
 none the better for fretting over them."
 
 258 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE sun, which on that December day shone on 
 AveHne and Geysbert as they neared the manor 
 house, was doing his best to dazzle the eyes of 
 two men who paced the deck of a vessel headed for 
 land. The coast of Long Island lay in the distance, 
 and there was the bustle of preparation on board. Now 
 and again the two men lifted their faces to the sharp 
 December air, and one, the younger of the two, drew 
 in the breath of it as if he could not have too much. 
 
 " I'm glad as a homesick child to be back again," he 
 said. " Warmer climes are good enough in their way, 
 but New Nederland for me, now and always." 
 
 The other laughed. 
 
 " You have not been away long enough to cure you 
 of your provincial proclivities," he said. " Better con- 
 tinue the experience by returning with me." 
 
 " Not I. I stay in Yorke until the New Year, join in 
 Christmas festivities, eat New Year's cookies, and such 
 like, and then back to the manor house." 
 
 " You are the same plodding old Helmer you used to 
 be when I spent those glorious boyish days with you 
 and Geysbert," said the other. " Well, every man to 
 his taste, but give me a life that has in it some spice of 
 adventure." 
 
 " You have more than the spice here," replied Hel- 
 mer gravely. " Do you intend in all soberness to run 
 in this cargo to-night?" 
 
 "Do I intend? I should say I do," responded his 
 friend gaily. " Have you any idea how many thousand 
 pounds' worth of prohibited goods — good Dutch manu- 
 factures, all of them — are under your feet? "
 
 FREE TO SERVE 259 
 
 " No, and don't want to have," replied Helmer. 
 *' Better take them back where they came from." 
 
 " You have no head for business, and no burning 
 sense of injustice urging you forward," was the reply. 
 " How is commerce to go on, I pray you, if Dutch- 
 men may not deal in Holland, and every pound's worth 
 of continental produce must first be landed in England, 
 that the Englishman may secure his picking before our 
 merchants so much as look at the goods? Taxes, and 
 duties, and dues — a merchant hears of nothing else. 
 We, who brave something worse than the fury of the 
 seas, are righters of the public wrongs, martyrs to the 
 cause of the people. Our countrymen need Dutch 
 goods, and East India goods, and our merchants must 
 have them at prices that will allow of their being bought 
 by the honest men and women of the province. What 
 would you have? He who supplies the public need is 
 a public benefactor." 
 
 Helmer shook his head. 
 
 "There are many who think with you," he said, 
 " and few who would be hard on your trade ; but for 
 myself, I would even rather pay the dues or go without 
 the goods," 
 
 His friend laughed. 
 
 " You are straight-laced enough for a Puritan and 
 Quaker combined," he said. "To-night we will con- 
 vert you to our side. The man who can resist the soul- 
 stirring excitement of running a cargo ashore is not of 
 your age or build, I'll wager." 
 
 He walked briskly away. There were many orders 
 to be given, and much preparation to be made before 
 nightfall. 
 
 Helmer stood alone, looking towards the shore. His 
 heart was light. In two more weeks the Dutch resi- 
 dents of New York would resort to their favourite pas- 
 time of firing guns on New Year's day. That was to
 
 26o FREE TO SERVE 
 
 be the signal that Helmer's" probation was ended. 
 Then, if the river were open, he would go up the 
 Hudson, and if not, he would follow an Indian trail, 
 with a native for a guide, and in due time reach home 
 — and Aveline. 
 
 It was of Aveline he was thinking when the sun shone 
 in his eyes and made them misty. It was mainly be- 
 cause he could not bear to stay away one day longer 
 than the prescribed time, that Helmer had shipped with 
 an old friend, Marcelis Wendell, now engaged in the 
 carrying trade between Surinam and New York. 
 
 The " Liberty" was a large vessel for the times. She 
 carried onions, flaxseed, peas, and flour, and sometimes 
 oysters and lobsters, from New York, and returned to 
 that port in ballast. What she carried between the time 
 when she left Surinam, and the time when she reached 
 her anchorage at the port of New York, was another 
 matter. The owners of certain warehouses in convenient 
 situations upon the coast of Long Island were in the 
 habit of looking out for the " Liberty," and so glad were 
 they to welcome her, that many a dark night their boats 
 danced over the waves to meet her, and greet her, and 
 help lighten her. At a time when no European goods 
 could be imported otherwise than through England, and 
 when Dutch and fine East India manufactures were in 
 special demand, it was little wonder that the " Liberty" 
 found ways and means of carrying something more re- 
 munerative than ballast during the greater part of her 
 homeward journey, though she sailed into the port of 
 New York in all the innocence of a vessel guiltless of 
 return cargo. Transfers of goods in the open sea, or 
 upon some convenient island, were transactions not 
 unheard of, and in any case the " Liberty " had to-day a 
 full and valuable cargo, no part of which was destined 
 to enter the port of New York. 
 
 The night was clear and moonless, and the wind fa-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 261 
 
 vourable, and good-humour and joking prevailed aboard 
 the " Liberty " as she bore down on the shore. 
 
 "We've a full night's work before us," said Marcelis, 
 as he passed Helmer, " and another on top of that, unless 
 we get more help than usual." 
 
 "You put out to sea before daylight?" asked 
 Helmer. 
 
 " Surely. We must run out of the reach of danger. 
 The loss of ship and cargo is an alternative that may 
 well incite to caution." 
 
 It was only in accordance with human nature that the 
 manifest risk in the undertaking should warm every 
 sailor's blood, and set him to carrying out orders with 
 a dash and promptitude not seen on ordinary occasions. 
 Two boats were early loaded, in one of which Helmer 
 took an oar. He was bent on seeing the development 
 of this characteristic bit of trade. 
 
 " Bear away," commanded Marcelis. " There is no 
 time to lose. Our friends will soon be coming to our 
 aid, but it is not necessary to wait for them. Every 
 moment is precious." 
 
 He himself stayed for the present on board, superin- 
 tending the removal of the cargo. Every man was 
 armed, and the boats kept well together. No word was 
 spoken. Speech was an unnecessary hindrance. Pres- 
 ently a sound was heard in the distance. 
 
 " Yonder comes Jansen to the rescue," said one of 
 the sailors. " The old man is slow to-night." 
 
 They rowed silently. The on-coming boat approached, 
 and a voice was heard giving a command. 
 
 " That's not old Jansen's grunt," burst out one of the 
 men. 
 
 " Silence ! " whispered the mate, the suppressed growl 
 putting every one on the alert. 
 
 The sound of oars came nearer, and a dark spot 
 showed where the boat rode the waves.
 
 262 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " No friend that ! " declared the mate under his 
 breath, and at the same moment a figure arose in the 
 advancing boat. 
 
 " In the name of the queen, stop where you are ! " 
 
 For a moment Helmer listened to the voice, bewil- 
 dered. Then — 
 
 " Myndert Hooghland ! " he whispered. " 'Tis the 
 custom officer's boat." 
 
 " Aye, aye," responded the mate, in the same low 
 tone. Then aloud : " The sea is wide ; we dispute not 
 your passing." 
 
 " Aye, but I dispute yours. Dip an oar at your 
 ■peril ! " shouted Myndert, as the boat drew near, 
 
 " Make ready for action ! " commanded the mate, and 
 the men's eyes gleamed in the darkness. 
 
 "What have you on board? " demanded the officer, 
 or officer's assistant, for this was the position at present 
 occupied by Myndert Hooghland. 
 
 " Two boat-loads of armed men. Have you aught to 
 say against the importation of such? " 
 
 The boats were alongside now. Myndert ignored the 
 question. 
 
 " You carry merchandise," he said, peering down into 
 the nearest boat. " It is against the Laws of Trade to 
 land any otherwhere than in the port of New York. In 
 the name of the queen I declare your goods and your 
 vessel, together with these boats, confiscated, and call 
 upon you to surrender." 
 
 " You mistake. Our proceedings are regular — very 
 regular," replied the mate sarcastically. 
 
 "Then why this night journey? Where are your 
 cocquets? " 
 
 "Where are my cocquets? Here they are, my fine 
 fellow. See if they suit you." 
 
 He gave the signal, and the sharp crack of guns 
 sounded over the water. No one was wounded, for the
 
 FREE TO SERVE 263 
 
 demonstration was but to show the strength of the 
 expedition. 
 
 Myndert hesitated. He had hoped to meet but one 
 boat at a time, and had trusted that the capture of the 
 first boat would overawe the rest of the ship's crew. 
 He had been sent here to watch the coast, and though 
 in this case the attempt was foolhardy, he thought to do 
 more than watch. He was ignorant of the name or rank 
 of the vessel to which the boats belonged, and at first 
 thought them to pertain to one of the shallops that 
 plied in and out of the bays, and were helpful enough 
 in running merchandise across to the mainland. The 
 game he had tackled was too large for his strength. 
 Therefore he hesitated. 
 
 "Made a little blunder, my friend, haven't you?" 
 demanded the mate. " There's no harm done, how- 
 ever. We're friendly chaps enough. You've but to 
 put yourselves under our protection, and we'll take 
 good care of you, and though we may find it necessary 
 to make blind men of you for a few hours, we will hurt 
 not a hair of your heads. What say you ? " 
 
 Myndert wavered, but at that moment there was a 
 change of position, which gave him a better view of the 
 mate's boat, and he caught a glimpse of a figure he had 
 not before seen, a young man, tall and commanding. 
 
 " Helmer Feljer ! " he ejaculated. " By all that's evil, 
 I've got you now ! " 
 
 He drew his sword and lurched forward. For the 
 next few moments there was a clashing of weapons, 
 and shouts enough to warn Marcelis that something 
 was wrong. 
 
 The fight was short. It was over as suddenly as it 
 began. When Myndert cried surrender there was but 
 one of his crew that had not been disarmed, a big hulk- 
 ing negro who had escaped capture by keeping well 
 behind his leader. Now, as Myndert held his sword
 
 264 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 aloft, preparatory to passing it over to his captors, the 
 black form crouched as if to hide itself from view. None 
 was at liberty to note the gleam of hatred in the man's 
 eyes, or the glitter of the teeth between his parted lips. 
 The attitude was that of a wild beast crouched for a 
 spring. 
 
 " All right. Sorry to have to appear anything but 
 polite," said the mate, with something like a sneer, " but 
 necessity knows no law. A rope there, some of you 
 fellows. Free hands are dangerous." 
 
 Helmer stooped to disentangle a rope near his feet. 
 It was caught under some of the merchandise. 
 
 " Cut it ! Cut it ! " commanded the mate. " We've 
 no time to lose." 
 
 Helmer's knife was in his hand almost before the 
 words were spoken. It was a big strong knife, and one 
 the young man always carried. To draw the rope up 
 preparatory to cutting it he leant over the side of the 
 boat, the movement bringing him close to and almost 
 behind Myndert, whose hands were in the mate's grasp. 
 At that moment there was a surging movement, by what 
 prompted nobody could explain. Myndert was pushed 
 almost off his feet, and the mate's arm struck Helmer's 
 hand, knocking the knife out of it into the other boat. 
 With an angry exclamation Helmer leant further over 
 to reach it, and then — 
 
 " Traitor ! You've done for me ! " 
 
 The words rose to a shriek, and effectually drowned 
 a low murmur of sound, scarce articulate, accompany- 
 ing the stab which buried Helmer's knife almost up to 
 the handle in Myndert's back. 
 
 "There — pig — Dutchman! Cato not forget the 
 flogging you get him. You not forget this." 
 
 There was a moment of complete confusion. Myndert 
 shrieked and writhed with pain, tearing his hands free, 
 and turning on Helmer. At the same moment the
 
 FREE TO SERVE 265 
 
 negro pulled the knife out of the wound, and blood 
 trickled down in the boat. 
 
 " You would stab me behind my back, would you, you 
 murderer ! " 
 
 The negro crouched low in the blood-spattered boat, 
 his face livid with terror. It was not to him, however, 
 tiiat the words were addressed. 
 
 " I saw you, you fiend ! " screamed Myndert, shaking 
 his trembling fist at Helmer. " I saw you bend over to 
 do it. You — you shall hang for this." 
 
 He staggered, and would have fallen, but by a great 
 effort he steadied himself Passion and excitement were 
 lending a short respite from death. 
 
 "What do you mean? " demanded Helmer. "The 
 knife was knocked out of my hand." 
 
 "You lie!" shouted Myndert, but his voice was 
 failing. He made a mighty effort, and turned on 
 the trembling negro, whose features worked convul- 
 sively. 
 
 "You saw him do it? You saw the fiend stab me? " 
 he cried. 
 
 " Yes, yes. Me see." 
 
 The negro drew himself together. The muscles of his 
 face ceased to work. He stood up and faced the com- 
 pany. 
 
 " He stoop so," he said, pointing to Helmer, " and 
 then push so," and he imitated the action of stabbing. 
 
 Myndert cast a look of intense hatred on Helmer. 
 
 " I have you now. You'll not escape me," he said, 
 and fell fainting. 
 
 There was consternation among the sailors. None 
 knew the truth of the story. The mate had seen Helmer 
 stoop, and thought he had seen him recover the knife. 
 He turned to him now. 
 
 " The best thing you can do is to get ashore as soon 
 as possible, and make yourself scarce till this blows
 
 266 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 over," he said in a low voice. " It has an ugly look, 
 anyhow." 
 
 " It is a lie," cried Helmer hotly. " The knife was 
 never in my hand from the moment I dropped it until it 
 was torn from Myndert's back." 
 
 The mate shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " There was nobody else to do it but the negro," he 
 said, " and he was on the fellow's side. Take my advice 
 and put a few miles between yourself and these parts 
 before morning. If I make no mistake, the wounded 
 man has not many hours to live. He was stabbed with 
 your knife. It looks bad enough. 
 
 " We are all in a bad fix," he added, as he stepped 
 back after taking the precautions he deemed necessary 
 in connection with Myndert's crew. " We shall have to 
 get our cargo ashore in double-quick time, and put out 
 to sea for a week or two. Luckily none of these fellows 
 know who we are." 
 
 He spoke in a low tone. Helmer looked at him 
 blankly. 
 
 " Do you think I stabbed him? " he asked, in tones 
 of concentrated horror. 
 
 "What else can I think? There was bad blood be- 
 tween you, as was shewn by his words. At any rate 
 you owe it to us to keep out of the way. We've got to 
 get out of this somehow" 
 
 "What will you do with him?" Helmer nodded 
 towards Myndert. 
 
 " Bind up his wound as well as we can when we get 
 to shore, and send him to the nearest dwelling, in charge 
 of his own men, as soon as it is safe. But it'll be no 
 use, mark my words. He's a dead man."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 267 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 " ^ T'OU desire to speak with me?" 
 
 \ Madam Feljer entered the room where she 
 A usually gave audience to her tenants. 
 
 " Speak with you? Aye, but it would be something 
 more than speech, if desire went for anything." 
 
 Arent Hooghland came a step or two towards Madam 
 Feljer, his hand clinched, and his face purple with pas- 
 sion. 
 
 She looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 " What is it you would say? " she asked quietly. 
 
 " What would I say? A curse on you, and a curse 
 on the day I set foot on your land ! Ruin take you 
 and yours for a set of sneaking cowards, fit only to stab 
 an honest lad in the back ! " 
 
 Arent Hooghland's voice was hoarse with rage. He 
 shook his fist menacingly at Madam Feljer. If he 
 thought his fury could daunt the little woman, or make 
 her fear his great burly presence, he soon learned his 
 mistake. She came closer to him. 
 
 " These are strong words, Arent Hooghland," she 
 said. 
 
 " Strong ! Are they too strong for the occasion, 
 think you? Would jo?(r words be weaker if one of my 
 race should cruelly and sneakingly take the life of a son 
 of yours? A fair fight I could abide, but to kill a man 
 who has put himself at your mercy — it would take a 
 Feljer to do that." 
 
 " Arent Hooghland, what you have to say, say 
 openly, and remember that you will be held respon- 
 sible for your words."
 
 268 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Madam's face had grown white, but her eyes were 
 shining. 
 
 "I'll take the responsibility," said Arent savagely. 
 "You'd call me to account in a court of justice, would 
 you? You think you're hugely influential. But what 
 think you I can do? I can Jiang a son of yours." 
 
 He lowered his head to bring his face close to Madam 
 Feljer's as the last words were hurled from his lips. 
 They came with a force of passion that caused her to 
 recoil. 
 
 "Yes, and I'll do it." 
 
 " I have not the slightest doubt that you will, if you 
 can — but can you ? " 
 
 Madam spoke in Dutch, as did her visitor. Her 
 voice shook a little, yet her eye was as firm as ever. 
 
 "Can I? Yes, I can, while there's law in the land. 
 I can hang a Feljer high as a murderer, and force you 
 to hide your accursed faces." 
 
 "If empty sound would do it, I doubt not it would 
 soon be done," said madam. " But more than mere 
 talk is needed to accomplish that of which you speak. 
 Whom do you accuse, and of what?" 
 
 "Whom do I accuse?" shouted the enraged Dutch- 
 man. " Whom but that scoundrel of a son of yours, the 
 villain who followed my boy at home and abroad, till 
 he had a chance to do him to death in the very act of 
 performing his duty to his country? Who but one 
 would do such an act, and that one Helmer Feljer? " 
 
 Madam put out her hand, as if she would stop the 
 outburst of words. The Dutchman noted the act. 
 
 " Aha ! That's got you, old woman," he said brutally. 
 " It's the first blow, and it's told. And now you may 
 look out, for I swear I'll never stop till I've battered 
 and bruised that old heart of yours as my woman's 
 heart, yes, and my own heart too, has been battered by 
 that murderous son of a Feljer."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 269 
 
 " There are but two sons in the Feljer family. To 
 which do your words apply? " 
 
 The clear young voice rang through the room. It 
 was haughty and indignant. Arent turned at the 
 sound. 
 
 " What have you to do with it, an upstart of a slave 
 at best? " he said. 
 
 Aveline's eyes flashed, but she left the remark unan- 
 swered. 
 
 " If you would not have uncomfortable proof that 
 madam is well protected from ruffianly attack in her 
 own house, it might be as well to answer the questions 
 that are put to you," she said. 
 
 "Answer? I can do that fast enough. You asked 
 me who I called a murderer. It is Helmer Feljer. 
 Now what do you make of that? " 
 
 '• That it is either a wicked lie, or that your brain is 
 crazed," said Aveline instantly. " There is nothing else 
 that could be made of it." 
 
 "A lie, is it?" roared the man. "It's a he that 
 Helmer was aboard some vessel that headed on the sly 
 for Long Island, and that he helped run a cargo ashore 
 without paying the custom dues, I suppose? And it's 
 a He that my Myndert had got his eye on the rascals, 
 aye, and come to close quarters with them? And it's a 
 He that he found them too much for him, and gave him- 
 self up into their hands, and then, when he was at their 
 mercy, and trusted to their honour, he found out what 
 the honour of a Feljer was worth? That's a lie, is it? 
 But it's no lie that my boy is at death's door to-day, 
 stabbed in the back by a cowardly thrust that the mur- 
 derer daren't have attempted to his face. It's no lie 
 that my woman is crying her heart out at the house, 
 and that I am a childless man to-day, or as good as one, 
 through the act of a Feljer. That's no lie, though you 
 may refuse to believe it as you please."
 
 270 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " My good friend, your story may be correct, — in 
 truth it seems to me that you beheve it, — yet is the 
 heat of your manner unjustifiable. You have need to 
 seek the virtue of moderation. Wrong was never yet 
 put down, nor right advanced, by the aid of an undis- 
 cipHned temper." 
 
 Probity's voice was low and deep. It arrested the 
 Dutchman, even in the moment of passion. 
 
 " Believe it? " he said, and this time he did not 
 shout. " I believe it so thoroughly that I start in an 
 hour for Yorke, in the hope of being in time to close 
 my son's eyes, and to see to it that before he dies 
 the murderer is denounced, and full proof of his 
 guilt obtained. I go to bury my son, and hang his 
 murderer." 
 
 "You have a sad duty to perform," said Probity, 
 still in the same deep, full voice. " Yet it were well to 
 see that justice be linked with mercy. The bed of 
 death is a right appropriate spot for the practice of that 
 forgiveness which every sinner needs." 
 
 " He showed no mercy, and he'll get no more than 
 he gave," was the answer. 
 
 " It is easy to make assertions," broke in Aveline. 
 "What proof have you that what you say is true?" 
 
 " Proof? The word of one who saw it done, and of 
 Myndert himself. There came to me to-day a messen- 
 ger from my son, bidding me come and avenge him. 
 And I am going." 
 
 " Who saw it done? " 
 
 Aveline's tone was still incredulous. Her question 
 was a challenge. 
 
 " A black slave belonging to Myndert's crew. He 
 saw the coward lift the weapon, and it was he who 
 pulled the cruel knife — Helmer Feljer's knife, mind 
 yon — from out the wound. He saw it done. And 
 Myndert saw Helmer stoop as he made the lunge that
 
 FREE TO SERVE 271 
 
 dug the knife well-nigh to my boy's heart. Oh, there's 
 evidence enough to hang him, no fear ! " 
 
 " Arent Hooghland, if what you say be true, then is 
 the pride of the Feljers laid in the dust. Go you to 
 Yorke. See your son, and — mine. Right will be done, 
 I doubt not, but until it be proved, I refuse to credit 
 your story." 
 
 Madam's voice was hard and strained. She showed, 
 however, no sign of flinching. She bestowed on the 
 Dutchman one long, searching look, and turned to leave 
 the room. In a moment Aveline was at her side. 
 
 " It is a cruel falsehood, madam," she said, in a low 
 tone. " He could not do it." 
 
 " I trust you are right, my child, but — he has grown 
 strangely passionate of late." 
 
 Madam traversed the narrow passage into which the 
 door opened, and walked towards the staircase. It was 
 noticeable that in this hour of fear and doubt she did 
 not turn to Geysbert. He was not far away, but she 
 did not ask for him. Some instinct of the heart warned 
 her that he too would think there might be truth in the 
 accusation. 
 
 " I may come in? " 
 
 Aveline spoke pleadingly. 
 
 " Yes. You — have faith in him." 
 
 " Madam, I know him. If the deed were done, 'twas 
 not of craft or malice, but of self-defence or necessity. 
 Why, madam, his hand could no more strike a cruel 
 blow than could your own." 
 
 Madam uttered no word, but she drew the girl's head 
 down and kissed her. 
 
 " Truly the beginning of strife is like the letting out 
 of water. I fear that my poor cousin was ever wilful 
 and passionate." 
 
 Probity stood by Geysbert's side, with her hand laid 
 affectionately on his arm. She had been talking with
 
 272 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 him of the charge against Helmer. When her aunt left 
 the Dutchman to go or stay as he chose, she remained 
 behind. 
 
 " For my aunt's sake and for yours," she told her 
 cousin, "I felt that I must do what I could. Poor Aunt 
 Wyntie was in no fit state to question this unfortunate 
 father. Therefore, I attempted, as far as in me lay, to 
 perform the duty for her. I learned that there was 
 much resistance to the efforts of the officials to seize 
 some goods being brought ashore on Long Island, and 
 that the boats' crews were too well armed for the repre- 
 sentatives of the law, at the head of whom was this 
 good man's son. Finding himself overpowered, and 
 seeing no use in holding out further, Myndert Hoogh- 
 land yielded to superior numbers, and gave himself up. 
 It was then, when a prisoner, and one who had laid 
 down his arms, that Helmer drew a knife and stabbed 
 the poor man almost to the heart. Truly it is a sad 
 story, and yet — I fear me the heart of my cousin is 
 sorely prone to be influenced by passion. I would fain 
 believe him guiltless, but I fear — I fear." 
 
 " Aye, and so do I." 
 
 Geysbert was looking moodily in front of him. He 
 did not need the information Probity had imparted. He 
 had already visited Hooghland's dwelling, and person- 
 ally interrogated the messenger who brought the news. 
 He had met the Dutchman when he left the house, and 
 heard the story from his lips. Hooghland was not 
 bitter against Geysbert — except for being a Feljer. He 
 could talk to him more calmly. And Geysbert had not 
 exasperated him by throwing doubt on his story. 
 
 Hooghland did not quite know what to make of Geys- 
 bert. He seemed shocked, almost stunned, but he made 
 no violent effort to confute the evidence. The Dutchman 
 did not understand it. Not that this was to be wondered 
 at. Geysbert did not understand himself. There was
 
 FREE TO SERVE 273 
 
 a strange commotion going on within. He was shocked, 
 unnerved by the charge, but he found .within himself no 
 overpowering impulse to deny it. The horror and dis- 
 grace touched him strongly, but beneath was a feeling 
 he did not stop to analyze. Thoughts of Aveline, and 
 of the possible consequences of this disclosure, intruded 
 themselves. He was powerfully affected, but the story 
 had not struck home to his heart as it had done to the 
 heart of Madam Feljer. 
 
 " Alas, that my aunt should have one sorrow close on 
 the heels of another." 
 
 Geysbert started. He had not been thinking of his 
 mother. 
 
 " Poor mother. It is hard on her," he said, and he 
 said it uneasily. 
 
 " Yes. Affliction is laying its hand heavily upon her, 
 and her heart is bowed with sorrow. I will go again 
 and seek to comfort her, but first I thought it best to 
 see you, that I might impart to you the knowledge I 
 had gained. What think you it will be best to do? 
 My cousin Geysbert will, I am sure, be no laggard in 
 doing all that is right." 
 
 " No. I intend to waste no time," said Geysbert. 
 " I shall start for New York before night. Then I must 
 be guided by circumstances, but I think — if the accu- 
 sation be true — that flight alone will save Helmer. He 
 was yet at liberty when the messenger started." 
 
 " Then you have seen this Hooghland?" 
 
 Probity looked a little crestfallen. Her information 
 was but stale news after all. 
 
 " Yes, and his informant also. I have lost no 
 moment of time. I must see my mother, and then 
 away." 
 
 Gevsbert's mind was in a whirl. He felt as if action 
 alone were bearable. He mounted the stairs two steps 
 at a time.
 
 274 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " Have you heard? " 
 
 Madam asked it eagerly. She was looking for some 
 sign of hope. 
 
 " Yes. I am going to Yorke," 
 
 " And you think — " 
 
 " I don't know what to think." 
 
 " He did not do it. Helmer is not capable of mean- 
 ness." 
 
 Her voice was appealing. 
 
 " No. And yet — he has of late shown himself in a 
 new light. No, it does not seem as if Helmer could do 
 a dastardly deed; but a violent deed — I am not sure." 
 
 Geysbert spoke hesitatingly. In a great measure he 
 was speaking according to his convictions. His rela- 
 tions with Helmer had not of late brought out the softer 
 side of his brother's nature, and possibly Geysbert's 
 eyes had not been as keen to discern the good as to 
 pick out the evil. In those first moments he felt rather 
 strongly convinced of Helmer's guilt, but if he had 
 known how much the conviction depended on the 
 antagonism between himself and Helmer, he might have 
 been startled. 
 
 " How soon will you start? " 
 
 "In half an hour." 
 
 " Very well. I shall be ready." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " Certainly. Helmer must have the counsel of one 
 who is not prejudiced against him." 
 
 "But, mother, it is impossible. Everything depends 
 on a hasty journey. I shall take a canoe. Your pres- 
 ence would hinder materially. I shall let no risk stop 
 me from pushing on day and night. With you I dare 
 not hurry thus. Helmer's life may depend on my 
 being in time. Surely it is foolishness to risk it." 
 
 Madam Feljer wavered. There was wisdom in Geys- 
 bert's words.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 275 
 
 " You will do all that can be done," she said, " as if 
 
 — as if you believed in him thoroughly?" 
 
 " I will do everything possible, as much as you could 
 do yourself." 
 
 " And as soon as you reach the city, and have seen 
 
 — my boy Helmer — you will dispatch a messenger? 
 Then, if there be need, I can come." 
 
 " I will," said Geysbert. 
 
 He stooped to kiss her, and then hurried away. 
 
 Madam herself prepared all that was necessary for 
 the journey. She was very quiet, but she grudged 
 every moment that passed. 
 
 " Spare nothing, neither yourself nor your money," 
 she said. " It is for your brother." 
 
 " You may trust me," replied Geysbert, and he kissed 
 her again and was gone.
 
 276 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 "r~l~~^HEY don't know him, Kip, — not one of them 
 I — only you — and me." 
 
 JL AvcHne buried her face in the dog's rough 
 coat, and put her arms about his neck. Out here, in 
 the shelter of the leafless trees, there was no one to see. 
 Even the sun was not looking. He had drawn a cur- 
 tain of cloud between himself and the girl kneeling on 
 the frozen ground to caress the dog — Helmer's dog, 
 and the only one in the family, beside herself, that had 
 no doubt of Helmer's honour. 
 
 " Even madam cannot trust him. She says he is 
 passionate, and might have been driven on before he 
 realized what he was doing. As if he could be either 
 mean or cruel! You know, don't you, Kip?" 
 
 There was a catch in her voice. Kip heard it, and 
 wriggled himself free until his great wistful eyes could 
 look into hers. Then he gave vent to a low whine. 
 Something was wrong. This girl, to whom Kip had 
 surrendered all that was left of his heart when Helmer's 
 share was taken out of it, — this girl whom Helmer him- 
 self had bidden the dog serve, — was in trouble. Kip 
 knew it by that catch in her voice, and the sorrowful 
 droop of her lips. He whined again. He must needs 
 say something to comfort her. The effort after expres- 
 sion gave movement to every joint of his body. Kip 
 was talking all over, from the tip of his restless tail to 
 the big mournful eyes, and the red tongue that touched 
 Aveline's face lovingly. 
 
 " Oh, Kip, Kip, they hate him so ! " 
 
 Kip's frame shook with his efforts to respond, and 
 his eyes grew deeper with sympathy.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 277 
 
 "And that dreadful man said — oh, Kip, they — 
 they daren't — hang him ! " 
 
 It had found voice now, the fear which Aveline had 
 hidden even from herself, ever since Arent Hooghland 
 uttered his horrible threat. It was only a whisper, 
 almost too low for Kip's sharp ears, for it seemed to 
 Aveline that to say it was to give it reality. Now, at 
 the whispered word, she broke down, and a passion of 
 sobs overpowered her. She buried her face again in 
 Kip's shaggy coat, and the dog stood trembling with 
 sympathy, uttering now and again a low plaintive whine. 
 The sorrow was becoming too deep for expression. His 
 great honest heart was heaving with his desire to com- 
 fort this girl — his mistress. Kip knew she was his 
 mistress, for Helmer had told him so, that day — so 
 long ago that to the dog it seemed a lifetime — when 
 his master turned the big loving head towards his own 
 face, and bade him go to her, and obey her, while he, 
 Helmer, was away. It was not expected that Kip would 
 comprehend every word of that half-whispered farewell, 
 some of which was addressed to himself, and some to 
 this girl, whose face was buried in his coat. Possibly 
 he was not meant to comprehend. 
 
 " Will you let him be yours while I am gone? " Hel- 
 mer had said. " I should not like to feel that his loyal, 
 affectionate heart would be starved for three whole 
 months — however his master's heart may fare. Kip 
 is nothing but a follower," he had added with a laugh. 
 " It is part of his nature to be one with me. Where his 
 master loves, Kip adores, and — he long ago gave his 
 heart into your keeping." 
 
 There certainly was a resemblance between Kip and 
 his master at the moment when Helmer said that. Both 
 were trying to say more with their eyes than they could 
 put into words. And they both succeeded.
 
 278 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " She ought to know him better, Kip, she ought, and 
 she — his mother! " 
 
 The whine increased to a short yelp. 
 
 " Hush, doggie ! We don't want to be found. We 
 are not going to cry — not at any other time. It would 
 be like saying he — did it." 
 
 And then the tears trickled into the shaggy hair, and 
 the sobs came faster again. 
 
 It was a whole day since Geysbert started for New 
 York, and a silent horror hung over the manor house. 
 Madam had shut herself in her room, admitting even 
 Probity and Aveline but seldom. The very slaves felt 
 that trouble brooded over the house, and they moved 
 about with wide solemn eyes, and portentous shakes of 
 the head. 
 
 The general solemnity exasperated Aveline. She 
 could not believe, she would not believe, that there was 
 any necessity for it. The story was all a wicked fabri- 
 cation of Myndert Hooghland's, and would explode as 
 soon as it was investigated. It was a cruel injustice to 
 Helmer to deem it even possible that he could commit 
 murder in cold blood. Aveline could have excused 
 strangers for crediting it, though that was preposterous 
 enough, but that madam should waver, and admit the 
 possibility, was beyond her comprehension. How could 
 madam help knowing that the accusation was false? 
 Though all the world should assert its truth, Aveline 
 would not waver. 
 
 " Dear child, you have yet to learn that the heart is 
 an unsafe guide, and that its evidence is to be accepted 
 with misgivings," Probity had said gravely, when some 
 such thought found voice. 
 
 And Aveline had replied that in her opinion there 
 was less danger in listening to the testimony of a warm 
 heart than in following the guidance of a cold head, that
 
 FREE TO SERVE 279 
 
 saw enough faults, and missed enough virtues, in one 
 day, to stamp it a faithless counsellor. 
 
 Ryseck Schredel was the only sensible person about 
 the place — in Aveline's estimation. 
 
 " Myndert Hooghland says Helmer's killed him, does 
 he? " she asked, with a sniff, and she snapped her fin- 
 gers defiantly. " That for what Myndert Hooghland 
 says ! I wouldn't believe the rascal if he up and told 
 me when he was dead and buried, let alone listening to 
 him on what he chooses to declare is his death-bed. 
 Death-bed ! Not it. It's not the first time an angel has 
 come into too close contact with the devil, and the devil 
 has cried 'Murder! ' but when the hullabaloo is over, 
 it's never the devil that is dead. You can't kill that 
 sort. I doubt the lad is too much a chip of that block 
 to be kicked out of this world easy. Old Arent Hoogh- 
 land needn't go wailing round bemoaning his childless- 
 ness. He'll find he's in no such luck as that yet, or I've 
 lost my mark." 
 
 Thoughts not altogether opposed to Ryseck's view of 
 the case passed through Geysbert's mind as he pushed 
 his canoe through the waters of the Hudson. It was 
 fortunate for his purpose that the winter was unduly 
 late, for it was no ordinary thing to be able to reach 
 New York by water at this season — not a week before 
 Christmas. 
 
 The mode of travel gave abundant opportunity for 
 thought. Geysbert had hardly thought at all since 
 Arent Hooghland made his accusation. His brain had 
 been in a whirl, and intense excitement had found vent 
 in action. The excitement was not diminished, but the 
 action was now little more than mechanical. In such a 
 position thought crowded in upon him, and all the pos- 
 sibilities of this crisis presented themselves in review — 
 arrest, trial, perhaps death, for Helmer, and disgrace 
 for the name of Feljer. Geysbert was a proud man>
 
 28o FREE TO SERVE 
 
 and the prospect of being the talk of the province made 
 him set his teeth together savagely. Why could not 
 Helmer keep out of mischief, or if he must needs go in 
 for adventure, why should he so far lose control of him- 
 self as to attack Myndert personally? 
 
 Geysbert's anger was hot against his younger brother. 
 Was there no end to the loss he must suffer through 
 Helmer? A few days ago he had been called upon to 
 give up the desire which had been gaining strength from 
 the moment when he stepped aboard the " Bullfinch," and 
 saw the sweet sorrowful face that had never yet departed 
 from his dreams. Now his good name was to follow, 
 unless, as perchance might prove to be the case, Arent 
 had magnified the danger, and he should find Myndert 
 less seriously injured than he had been led to expect. 
 It was possible, too, that there might be another version 
 of the story, a version in which the positions would be 
 reversed, and Myndert instead of Helmer be proved to 
 have been the aggressor. Almost without will of his 
 own Geysbert contrasted the two, Myndert, the accuser, 
 and Helmer. Myndert he knew well, and Helmer bet- 
 ter, and in view of his knowledge of the two characters 
 some such thought as Ryseck had expressed entered 
 his mind, and he acknowledged the charge to be a strange 
 one. 
 
 When his thought turned thus to his brother, it was 
 always to the boy Helmer, the young brother whom he 
 bad protected and loved in the days when there was 
 no rivalry between them. That this Helmer could be 
 guilty of baseness, of deliberate treachery and cruelty, 
 was impossible. The old affection struggled to the front, 
 fought to push aside the new bitterness, to sweep away 
 resentment and ill-will. It would surely have succeeded, 
 but between the memory of his brother and his own 
 softening heart came the face of a girl, and as often 
 as it came affection was worsted, and the hard grudge
 
 FREE TO SERVE 281 
 
 returned. Helmer was his rival, and would succeed 
 where he had failed, would win the good he himself 
 coveted. It was for him only a question of time, unless 
 — well, there were many contingencies just now. 
 
 Geysbert did not seek to persuade himself that Hel- 
 mer's suit would end as unsatisfactorily as his own. His 
 failure proved some antecedent success. Aveline must 
 care for Helmer, because she had declined to care for 
 him. She had been very determined, very definite in 
 her refusal to listen to his plea, and he had accepted 
 her decision as final, for would not Helmer soon be 
 back to try his luck? But now, with Helmer out of the 
 field — 
 
 Ah, but was Helmer out of the field? He was going 
 to New York to vindicate his brother, to prove Myn- 
 dert a liar, and make it possible for Helmer to return and 
 wed Aveline. Aye, was he? Something of this he had 
 been proposing, or his heart had been proposing; but 
 what of the consequences? Could he bear to see Ave- 
 line Helmer's bride, and know that his own hand had 
 given his rival the prize? He uttered an impatient 
 exclamation, and urged his boat the faster. This jour- 
 ney was interminable, and thought — thought was mad- 
 dening, and worse than useless. Where was the sense 
 in thinking? He did not know yet whether Helmer 
 might not be guilty of the charge brought against him. 
 He could but wait and see, leave the question open, 
 and be ready to weigh the evidence when any presented 
 itself. 
 
 Thus it happened that when Geysbert reached New 
 York he was in a receptive mood ; that is, he was open 
 to charges against his brother. Bit by bit jealousy had 
 been triumphing over love, and though he was thor- 
 oughly prepared to defend his brother should he find 
 him guiltless, and to aid in his escape if he should in- 
 deed be guilty, none of the softer feelings were to the
 
 282 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 fore when he paid his first visit to Myndert, for the pur- 
 pose of learning as much as possible of the encounter. 
 
 He experienced a distinct shock when he stepped 
 into the room where Myndert lay. After that first 
 glance he did not attempt to deny that murder had been 
 committed. Was it Helmer's hand that had dealt the 
 fatal blow? 
 
 The wounded man roused himself at Geysbert's en- 
 trance. His hollow shining eyes looked into the face 
 of his former friend. 
 
 " I was as full of life as you a week ago," he said, in 
 a fierce, weak voice. "Now look at me. Dying! And 
 through him ! " 
 
 It was his only greeting. 
 
 " Nay, but you will get better," said Geysbert, fas- 
 cinated by the hatred in those gleaming eyes. 
 
 "You know better, Geysbert Feljer. And I know 
 better. I'm a dying man. The blow was aimed to kill, 
 and it has not failed of its work. Dying ! Aye, but 
 by all that's holy I swear I'll not die till I've set in mo- 
 tion that which shall hang him for the murderer he is." 
 
 Geysbert recoiled from the exceeding rancour of the 
 speaker. His eyes shone as if they were the outlets for 
 the fire of hatred burning within. He put forth his 
 hand and clutched that of Geysbert. 
 
 "What have you come for? " he asked suspiciously. 
 " To cheat me of my revenge? A curse on you if you 
 defraud justice of her right, and me of the joy of know- 
 ing he will hang ! " 
 
 The hand which clasped Geysbert's seemed to scorch 
 through the cool healthy flesh. It held him with the 
 nervous grip of weakness. 
 
 " Where is he? " asked Myndert, his hold tightening. 
 " Are you hiding him up there till I am dead and 
 buried? " 
 
 " Hiding him? No. I know nothing of my brother,
 
 FREE TO SERVE 283 
 
 or of this — accident," replied Geysbert. " I came to 
 hear from you all that you could tell me." 
 
 "And for what purpose? To thwart me in the end, 
 and snatch that dastardly wretch, that murderous villain, 
 from the punishment he deserves? Aha! You'll not 
 do it. I shall die easy yet." 
 
 His hold relaxed, and he lay exhausted, passion yet 
 quivering in the nerves of the death-like face. It took 
 time and much patience to draw from him the particu- 
 lars of the night encounter, and the sudden stabbing. 
 Again and again his anger blazed up, and he raved 
 until exhaustion put a stop to his invectives. 
 
 His passion reacted on Geysbert. He had been wait- 
 ing for some influence to confirm his mind's attitude 
 towards his brother. He had thought to keep himself 
 impartially from judgment, and in truth he had decided 
 before ever he set foot in New York. Professing to 
 hold the balance even, he had allowed the memory of a 
 girl's face to turn the scale. Nowhewas unconsciously 
 looking for confirmation of his decision, and he found 
 it. In the shattered life before him he saw Helmer's 
 handiwork. He was ready to see it so, and since the 
 will has much to do with the judgment, it was not long 
 before Geysbert's judgment was convinced, and his heart 
 hardened against Helmer. 
 
 There were not many additional facts to be learned 
 from Myndert. Of the vessel to which the boats 
 belonged he could tell nothing. No suspicious bark 
 had come into port, and in the darkness and the confu- 
 sion of the fray he had recognized none of the crew. 
 When he recovered conciousness he found himself in a 
 place of safety, whither he had been carried by his own 
 men. 
 
 Neither then nor since had there been any trace of 
 Helmer. 
 
 " Let him hide," said Myndert vindictively. " Let
 
 284 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 him lead the life of a rat in a hole. He cannot hide for- 
 ever. There'll be a day when he'll come out of his 
 burrow, and as soon as he shows his head he's a dead 
 man." 
 
 Geysbert had no better success with the negro. He 
 interrogated him closely, but could not make him swerve 
 from his statement. There was no trace of guilt in the 
 manner in which he described the fight, and its tragical 
 ending. Geysbert could find no flaw in his evidence. 
 Things looked black for Helmer. His absence spoke 
 strongly for the truth of the accusation. To Geysbert 
 there seemed little reason to doubt that his hand had 
 guided the knife. 
 
 On the whole, Geysbert was relieved that he found no 
 trace of his brother. Since he was guilty, the best thing 
 that could happen would be his complete disappearance. 
 Geysbert had his own opinion as to the mode of that 
 disappearance, and in accordance with that opinion he 
 covertly watched all in-coming vessels. Not that he 
 expected to see Helmer on any one of them. It was only 
 a fear lest his brother should return that kept him in the 
 city. He wanted to warn him, if such should be the 
 case. He was convinced that Helmer was guilty, but he 
 was none the less resolved to spare him the punishment 
 of his crime — up to a certain point. But Helmer must 
 keep away. His own life depended on it. Yes, and 
 there was something else that depended on it too. Once 
 again came the thought of Aveline, and now there was 
 'with it a distinct feeling of triumph. The prize was not 
 Helmer's — never would be Helmer's now. 
 
 A smile hovered about his lips when he thought of 
 the light in which his report would place Helmer, and 
 of how the news would be looked upon by Aveline. 
 That smile was not a pleasant one. It did not soften, 
 even at memory of Aveline. Why should it? She had 
 preferred Helmer to himself, now she would have the
 
 FREE TO SERVE 285 
 
 opportunity of seeing the folly of her choice. He would 
 spare her none of the pain — it would be better that 
 she should feel it all. The sharper the pang, the more 
 wholesome the discipline. But when it had done its 
 work, when she had suffered sufficiently, he would com- 
 fort her, and teach her to love again, more wisely than 
 before. 
 
 It was with this thought in his mind that he wrote 
 and sent off the letter he had promised to dispatch to 
 his mother. He spared no detail that might convince 
 his readers of Helmer's guilt. He pictured Myndert's 
 dying condition, and gave the slave's testimony. And, 
 consciously or unconsciously, he put into every word 
 the colour of his own feeling. When that special dis- 
 patch reached her hand, madam shut herself in her own 
 room. Geysbert had meant that the bitterness of that 
 letter should eat into a woman's heart, and it did — but 
 it was the heart of an old woman, and the corrosion went 
 deep. Old hearts sometimes grow frail beneath the 
 troubles of life, and possibly madam's heart was not as 
 tough as her elder son believed. 
 
 Geysbert did not hasten his return. He stayed to 
 watch events, and possibly to allow his letter to work. 
 The more he thought of Aveline, and of all he would 
 say to her, the more he elaborated the case, and sought 
 in his own mind to meet the objections she would be sure 
 to raise, the stronger he became in his position. He had 
 at first simply accepted the guilt of his brother, allowed 
 his opinion on that point to become settled ; now he had 
 gone further, and assumed the function of prosecuting 
 attorney. He was personally interested in working up 
 the case. He grew hot on the side of justice. 
 
 When he left New York, Myndert was still alive. It 
 seemed as if his hatred of Helmer prevented his death. 
 His wound had not healed, and he was slowly sinking, 
 but he held on to life with wonderful tenacity.
 
 286 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " He'll not escape me," he said to Geysbert, by way 
 of farewell. 
 
 The young man did not return by the way he had 
 come. Winter had swooped down on the province, 
 and the Hudson was frozen. By the route that Helmer 
 had expected to take, and only slightly later than the 
 time when Helmer should have returned, he made his 
 way homeward. 
 
 It was when less than a day's journey from the manor 
 house, and after he had discharged his Indian guide, 
 that he halted to satisfy his hunger. Behind a tree, not 
 more than a stone's throw away, a silent-footed traveller 
 halted too. From tree to tree that figure had followed 
 Geysbert for hours. Now, as the young man threw 
 himself down to rest, the Indian stepped out into the 
 trail. Geysbert looked up in some surprise, but in no 
 alarm, for the Indians of the neighbourhood were all 
 friendly. The stranger advanced. 
 
 " You are he they call Geysbert, son of the good 
 white brother of the house on the hill," he said in Dutch. 
 
 " Yes. What do you want with me? " asked Geysbert. 
 
 " I bring this from the hand of the young white 
 brother. He say, let it speak of him, and when it has 
 spoken, drop it into the fire that brothers burn as we 
 burn our fires of friendship. Let it go to ashes. Ashes 
 have no tongues." 
 
 Geysbert started, and changed colour. 
 
 " Where is the white brother? " he asked. 
 
 The Indian turned slightly, and with a sweep of his 
 hand indicated the whole broad land. 
 
 " Where is the deer that fed here yesterday, or the 
 wolf that passed last night? Under the great sun, and 
 above the hard earth. He is there." 
 
 He looked fixedly at Geysbert for a minute, saw him 
 untie the packet, and departed as silently as he had 
 come.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 287 
 
 For fully half an hour Geysbert sat with the paper 
 in his hand, his eyes bent on the closely written lines. 
 Hunger was forgotten. In that half-hour he had the 
 opportunity to remodel his opinions. He heard the 
 story of the night encounter from the other side. 
 Helmer kept nothing back. He told all the facts, 
 reserving only the name of the vessel in which he sailed. 
 He announced his intention of keeping in hiding for a 
 time, in the hope that Myndert would recover, and 
 promised to communicate, if possible, with his family. 
 He begged Geysbert to watch the issues closely, and 
 when his messengers came to let him know how things 
 stood. And he sent a loving message to his mother, 
 and to Aveline and Probity. He did not spend much 
 time in protesting his innocence. He simply asserted 
 it, having no doubt that his assertion would be believed. 
 In the end he advised the burning of the letter as soon 
 as it had been read at home, or before, if necessary. 
 
 Geysbert read from end to end of the epistle, and then 
 turned back and read again. His face did not soften. 
 His lips were pressed tightly together. For the third 
 time he read. Then his lips opened. 
 
 "It is a lie," he said; "cleverly constructed, truly, 
 but a he." 
 
 And then he carried out the Indian's directions. He 
 gathered together a few dry sticks and kindled a fire. 
 Then in the midst of " the fire of friendship such as 
 brothers burn " ? he dropped the packet, and watched 
 it go to ashes. The light sticks blazed themselves out, 
 and the embers grew cold and dead. Geysbert knocked 
 them apart, and pursued his journey. He reached the 
 manor house before nightfall.
 
 288 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 MISSY AV'LINE!" 
 Tyte's voice was sunk to a mysterious whisper. 
 He lifted a woolly head just high enough from 
 behind a snow-bank to disclose a pair of eyes. Aveline 
 started violently, and gave a little gasp. 
 
 "What are you doing, hiding behind there?" she 
 asked sharply. 
 
 She was angry with herself for being startled. She 
 was getting uncomfortably nervous in these days. 
 
 " Missy Av'line," whispered Tyte again, still in that 
 mysteriously low tone, " I got someting 'portant to tell, 
 but " — and here Tyte's voice sank until the sound 
 fairly stuck in his throat — " Mars'r Geysbert better not 
 see me tell it." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Aveline, still somewhat impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Someting 'bout — Mars'r Helmer." 
 
 Aveline's face grew white. Tyte dropped down be- 
 hind his snow-bank. 
 
 " Dere's Mars'r Geysbert," he whispered, and lay 
 perfectly still. 
 
 Aveline was wise enough not to turn her head. She 
 continued her walk towards the slaves' quarters. When 
 she reached them she stopped, gave some directions to 
 the first negro woman she met, and ended by instruct- 
 ing her to send Tyte to the house when he was next 
 seen. She had something for him to do. 
 
 " Just so, missy," was the answer, in Dutch. " And 
 how goes it with madam? Ah, it's sore times we've 
 had since the good master was taken."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 289 
 
 " Madam is feeling better, I think," replied Aveline 
 kindly. " The orders I bring came from herself." 
 
 "Bless you, missy, that's good news," replied the 
 woman heartily. 
 
 The slaves at the manor house were all old servants, 
 and had watched the growing up of the young people 
 alongside that of their own progeny. To them the 
 house was desolate, now that the old master was gone, 
 and one son away, nobody knew where. Madam 
 seemed their only stay, and from the day when a certain 
 messenger arrived from New York bearing to her a 
 sealed packet, madam had perceptibly failed. 
 
 The presence of Aveline and Probity was a necessity 
 now, for the care of the household had fallen almost 
 entirely upon them. Aveline's days had become a con- 
 tinual conflict between loving tenderness and impatient 
 resistance. The silent sorrow that looked out of mad- 
 am's eyes made the girl feel a constant impulse to 
 caress her, to coax the old light back, but the deepen- 
 ing lines about her mouth, the close pressure of the 
 lips, that said as plainly as words could have done that 
 madam's heart was cold as well as sore, awakened all 
 the antagonism in her. She wanted to hurl defiance at 
 those set lips, and the judgment they embodied. Be- 
 tween the conflicting emotions she hovered about madam, 
 sometimes exhibiting flashes of temper which madam 
 was at no loss to interpret, but more often allowing the 
 pitying love to master the upspringing opposition, and 
 show itself in tender care that made madam depend 
 upon her more than ever. 
 
 Geysbert had not found his plan work quite as he 
 had expected. He had none of those arguments with 
 Aveline for which he had prepared himself while yet in 
 New York. When he first spoke of his brother, she 
 fixed her eyes inquiringly upon him, and listened, now 
 and then throwing out a question that broke the thread
 
 290 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 of his recital, or uttering a word or two of comment, 
 always at a point where there was a flaw in the argu- 
 ment, or where he had unconsciously betrayed his own 
 lack of earnestness in his brother's cause. But when he 
 had told all, she had nothing to say. It was Probity 
 who spoke pitying words of Helmer, and counselled 
 charity. 
 
 " Alas, the heart of man is sadly deceitful," she said. 
 " It surely becomes us to be pitiful towards the sinner. 
 My poor cousin has but followed the guidance of an 
 unregenerate heart, and now, I doubt not, he is finding 
 that the way of transgressors is hard." 
 
 "To which of your cousins do you refer?" asked 
 Aveline, with a heightened colour on her cheeks. 
 
 Probity turned a calm, surprised gaze upon her. 
 
 "My dear child, what does your question mean?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Nothing, to you," replied Aveline, looking past 
 Probity to Geysbert. 
 
 He uttered an exclamation that was not polite, and 
 departed hastily. 
 
 As time passed, he had none of those quiet talks with 
 Aveline to which he had looked forward. If he had 
 inflicted wounds upon her heart, he was not called upon 
 to bind them up. 
 
 " You may believe what you like," she said, " under- 
 stand me — what you like — about Helmer. You have 
 found out nothing that necessarily criminates him. You 
 have simply listened to his enemies. To one who knows 
 him your words are empty. You do not know him — 
 nor yourself." 
 
 The last two words were uttered very distinctly, and 
 made Geysbert bite his lip, and look at her as if he 
 would have liked to do something more than look. 
 
 There was only one person before whom Aveline 
 quailed, and that was Arent Hooghland. One part of
 
 FREE TO SERVE 291 
 
 his mission had been accompHshed before he left New 
 York. He had buried his son Myndert. The other 
 part, the thought of which made AveUne's heart beat 
 with fear every time she encountered him, he was yet 
 watching and waiting to fulfil. 
 
 " Tve come back to keep guard over the Feljers till 
 I've hunted one of them to the ground," he announced, 
 when he returned to his farm. 
 
 Aveline never saw him without a cold horror steal- 
 ing into her heart. It was the thought of him that 
 turned her cheek pale when Tyte spoke of Helmer. 
 What did the boy know? Was Helmer near, and in 
 danger? 
 
 She hastened homeward, avoiding the bank where 
 Tyte might yet be in hiding. Not ten minutes after 
 she had entered, a negro came to summon her. 
 
 " That Tyte say you want him, missy." 
 
 " Yes, I left word for him to come. I want him to 
 fetch something for me. Send him up here." 
 
 Aveline disappeared in her own room as she spoke, 
 and waited until the solemn face of Tyte appeared at 
 the door. 
 
 " Come in, Tyte. I want you to go to the barn with 
 a message for me," she said. 
 
 Tyte came in cautiously, the importance of the news 
 he had to communicate proving almost too much for 
 the steadiness of his legs. 
 
 " Shut the door, and come over here." 
 
 Tyte obeyed. 
 
 "Now! " 
 
 " Missy Av'line, he's never disappeared same as dey 
 say. He write letters to Mars'r Geysbert, and Mars' r 
 Geysbert write to him." 
 
 Aveline stared at him. 
 
 " How do you know? " she asked at last. 
 
 " Big Injun bring de letter, and tell Mars'r Geysbert
 
 292 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 he want to know why dere no more letter dan one last 
 time he send." 
 
 " How do you know this, boy? " 
 
 Aveline's hand grasped Tyte's shoulder. Tyte fairly 
 trembled with eagerness and importance. His eyes 
 grew bigger than ever. 
 
 " Dis boy out in de forest," he said slowly, " 'way out. 
 Den dis boy see Mars'r Geysbert comin' and hide." 
 
 "What for?" interposed Aveline. 
 
 " Mars'r Geysbert kick dis boy once for bein' out 
 dere. Want no more kicks." 
 
 "Well? What then?" 
 
 The hand that pressed Tyte's shoulder was not very 
 steady. 
 
 " Den Mars'r Geysbert whistle, low and soft like, and 
 de forest all still as night, and dere never a sound." 
 
 Tyte stopped impressively. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " And he whistle again. Den out in de forest, long way 
 off, someting else whistle, and Mars'r Geysbert he stan' 
 still and wait. Den no sound at all till big Injun come 
 out from behind a tree, right 'fore Mars'r Geysbert, and 
 stan' and look at him, and Mars'r Geysbert look at him." 
 
 Aveline's hold tightened. The boy felt it, and his 
 eyes rolled in response. 
 
 " Injun take out packet, and give Mars'r Geysbert," 
 he continued, " and say — ' De white broder say only 
 one packet 'stead of two, last time ; he 'spect two, and 
 say I lose one.' Den Mars'r Geysbert swear, and tell 
 him to hold his tongue, and carry what he get." 
 
 "Tyte, are you sure you heard all this? You are 
 speaking the truth?" 
 
 Aveline's voice trembled as she asked the question. 
 
 " Missy, I sure enough," replied Tyte solemnly. " I 
 close to Mars'r Geysbert in a big hole behind de snow." 
 
 " Go on then. What did Geysbert do? "
 
 FREE TO SERVE 293 
 
 Unconsciously she dropped the " Mr.," forgetting to 
 whom she was speaking. 
 
 " Mars'r Geysbert open de packet and look, and den 
 say — 'To-night, when de moon is down,' and de Injun 
 turn and lose him in de forest." 
 
 Tyte paused, his face upturned to Aveline's, and his 
 eyes staring into hers. She stood over him, waiting 
 almost breathlessly. 
 
 " What then?" she asked. 
 
 " Den Mars'r Geysbert read, and he swear again and 
 say — ' Your anxious broder Helmer ! I vow, by all you 
 hold dear, you no broder of mine.' " 
 
 Aveline's face was pale, but her eyes flashed. 
 •- " Is that all? " she said. 
 
 " Yes, missy." 
 
 Tyte was awed by the effect of his words. The girl's 
 hand still grasped his shoulder. There was a long silence. 
 When she spoke, it was in a low, impressive voice. 
 
 "Tyte, do you love Mr. Helmer? " she asked. 
 
 " Missy, I doesy 
 
 " Then, boy, never let a word of this come out of 
 your mouth again. Better bite your tongue out than 
 tell to any one else what you have told me." 
 
 " Dis boy tink missy want to know." Tyte's tone 
 was crestfallen. It aroused Aveline. 
 
 "Tyte," she said, "you have done Mr. Helmer a 
 kindness to-day that he will never forget. But you do 
 not know the danger. Tyte, his life depends on keep- 
 ing quiet." 
 
 " Dis boy never talk," said Tyte. 
 
 " Not to any one?" 
 
 " Not to nobody. He bite his tongue out first, as 
 missy say." 
 
 " Very well. I trust you, Tyte. Remember, you and 
 I have a secret we must never tell. And we must not 
 even let any one know we have a secret. Go away and
 
 294 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 forget it. And Tyte ! Don't go into the forest again. 
 Mr. Geysbert might see you next time." 
 
 Tyte's face fell. 
 
 " It is for Mr. Helmer I ask," said Aveline gently. 
 
 " Dis boy won't go no more." 
 
 " Thank you. You are Mr. Helmer's own boy." 
 
 He beamed on her. 
 
 " Now tell me exactly where you saw the big Indian." 
 
 When Tyte walked slowly away to the barn he was 
 too full of importance to caper. 
 
 " Mars'r Helmer's boy ! Course I am," he said to 
 himself, but he pressed his lips together, that no sound 
 should escape. 
 
 " Geysbert, does madam's face never reproach you 
 that you have taken no further steps to bring her news 
 of her younger son?" 
 
 Aveline had met Geysbert in the hall, just where the 
 light fell best on his face. She stood and studied it as 
 she spoke. He changed colour perceptibly. 
 
 "You are unjust," he said. "You have ever been 
 that to me." 
 
 "Am I?" 
 
 He looked at her for a moment. Then he caught 
 her arm. 
 
 " Aye, you are," he said. " You are the last to hold 
 out. My mother believes me, but you — " 
 
 " Yes, she believes you — more's the pity." 
 
 He released her quickly, flinging her arm from him. 
 She did not move. 
 
 " Have you never learned aught else of him?" she 
 asked. 
 
 He looked at her sharply. 
 
 " I have never left the manor house. My duty was 
 here," he said. 
 
 " True," she answered, and then moved aside, and 
 let him pass. He went away with a scowl on his face.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 295 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE moon was not down, nor would be for an 
 hour. The wind, sweeping through the bare 
 branches of the trees, was responsible for the 
 bewildering commotion among the shadows of the 
 forest. Yet it was not to be credited with all the move- 
 ment. There was a shadow that advanced independ- 
 ently, starting from the outermost rim of the forest, and 
 moving inward till it fell over a hole left by an uprooted 
 tree. The root of the tree yet lay upheaved towards 
 the track by which the solid body pertaining to the 
 shadow had penetrated, and against it was piled a 
 sheltering bank of snow. It was white, unsullied snow, 
 frozen hard enough to bear the light figure that stepped 
 cautiously upon it. There were prints in which the 
 intruder might set foot, the marks of Tyte's blundering 
 feet when he darted from the track to hide from " Mars'r 
 Geysbert." Aveline looked at them, nodded decisively, 
 and trusted herself to their guidance. They landed her 
 in a spot well out of sight of the path by which she had 
 come, and by which, in all probability, Geysbert would 
 come. 
 
 Even the trained eye of an Indian might be excused 
 if it missed the figure that was white as the covering of 
 the forest in winter, and that sank into the snow depths 
 and waited motionless. Lying there in the snow Ave- 
 line seemed part of it, for not even her head was an 
 exception to the general whiteness she had assumed. 
 She wanted to be free to listen and plan without fear of 
 detection. 
 
 Her heart was in a tumult, though it is fair to say 
 that anger was the predominating feeling. The thought
 
 296 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 of madam's stricken face, and Helmer's weary waiting 
 for letters that never came, made the anger fairly blaze. 
 She would have liked to confront Geysbert with his 
 deceit, but such a proceeding was not safe. Helmer's 
 life was in danger, and until she knew just how far that 
 life was in Geysbert's power she must move cautiously. 
 That Madam Feljer's elder son was capable of treach- 
 ery she had long believed. That he was guilty of treach- 
 ery she had sometimes suspected, but of the extent of 
 the treachery she had not dreamed. Now, justly 
 or unjustly, she classed him and Arent Hooghland to- 
 gether. 
 
 The moon descended slowly, and the wind rattled 
 the branches overhead. Aveline shivered and cowered 
 lower. It was lonely and desolate here in the forest. 
 She was oppressed with a feeling of the bare coldness 
 of the world. Somewhere in that cold world Helmer was 
 a wanderer, and at home, in the warmth of the manor 
 house, the chill yet penetrated to madam's heart. 
 
 The minutes were very long, and the stillness was 
 calculated to work havoc with a watcher's nerves. 
 There may have been stealthy wild creatures creeping 
 over the snow about her, but Aveline did not hear them. 
 It seemed to her that she and the wind were alone. So 
 perfect was the stillness that when, without warning, 
 there came a light touch on her head, she started up 
 with a low cry. A dark face was above her, and eyes, 
 searching and inscrutable, looked down at her. 
 
 " What is the sister of the snow seeking in the forest 
 at night? " said the Indian, in a deep voice, his tongue 
 giving her the name her appearance suggested. 
 
 " The shelter of the white snow," she replied truth- 
 fully. 
 
 He looked at her and grunted. Aveline's startled 
 eyes were fixed upon him, as if fascinated. Was this 
 the Indian for whom she was waiting?
 
 FREE TO SERVE 297 
 
 " The shelter of the snow is cold," he said. 
 
 " But the spirit of the sister of the snow is warm," she 
 answered, " warmer in the forest than under the white 
 man's roof, for somewhere, where the snow lies unbroken, 
 is the white brother whose thought is of her, and of the 
 packet she would send to him if the wings of the wind 
 knew whither to carry it." 
 
 She looked at him as closely as the uncertain light 
 would permit. His face appeared unchanged. 
 
 " From whence comes the sister of the snow?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " From the Feljer manor house, upon the hill." 
 
 He grunted again. 
 
 "Does the white brother desire the packet?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes. He has waited for it long." 
 
 The Indian held out his hand. 
 
 " It shall talk to him of the sister waiting in the snow," 
 he said. 
 
 " Stop ! " said Aveline quickly. " None save the 
 white brother himself must know that it is sent. Only 
 the sister of the snow, and the white brother, and — the 
 wings of the wind — must know." 
 
 " The wind v/hispers no secrets," said the Indian. 
 
 Still she hesitated. She could no longer see the 
 Indian's face. The moon had dipped behind a hill, 
 and the forest was dark. 
 
 " Does the sister of the snow desire that any from the 
 house on the hill should know she sought the shelter of 
 the forest? " questioned the Indian. 
 
 " No, oh, no ! " replied Aveline quickly. 
 
 " Then let her lie still as the moonlight on the snow," 
 he said, and before she understood what he meant she 
 saw his dark figure upon the path beyond. 
 
 Then there came a low whistle, and Aveline's heart 
 beat loudly. In spite of her fear, she lifted her head.
 
 298 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Against the white snow she saw what might be two 
 figures. Her ears served her better than her eyes. 
 
 " Ah, you are waiting. It is well. Here is your 
 packet. Take it to the white brother, and this is to 
 reward you for your pains." 
 
 There was no mistaking Geysbert's voice. 
 
 " Next moon I shall look for you again," he said, and 
 the Indian's answer was too low to reach Aveline's ears. 
 She heard Geysbert's response. 
 
 " It is all he'll get. If he be not satisfied, it is more 
 than he deserves. Tell him so, if so be you can remem- 
 ber the message." 
 
 It took all the self-control of which she was capable 
 to prevent Aveline from springing up and confronting 
 the speaker. Her breath came in short gasps. She was 
 far from obeying the Indian's injunction to be as noise- 
 less as the moonlight on the snow. 
 
 Luckily, Geysbert was thinking only of his own part 
 of the performance, and when that was accomplished 
 he turned on his heel, and made straight for the manor 
 house. The Indian disappeared at the same moment. 
 Had he forsaken her? Aveline waited and listened. 
 Then she raised herself from the snow and uttered a 
 low cooing cry, somewhat resembling the note of a wild 
 pigeon. It was always Helmer's signal to her when 
 they wandered through the forest. Low as it was, it 
 had scarcely left her lips when a shrill squeal, so indic- 
 ative of some wild creature of the forest that she turned 
 her head sharply, sounded near at hand. She dropped 
 back and lay quite still. 
 
 " Will the white squaw trust her packet to the wings 
 of the wind?" 
 
 Again the Indian was by her side, though she had 
 not seen him come. 
 
 She drew it forth, and at the same time proffered a 
 string of wampum.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 299 
 
 " You will deliver it into his own hand? " she said. 
 
 " Into his and no other," replied the Indian. 
 
 Geysbert had been back at the manor house for 
 fully an hour when Aveline crept up to her room, shiv- 
 ering and excited. The white clothing was covered 
 now with a dark mantle, but she was none the less 
 relieved that she had encountered no one. 
 
 Aveline's eyes were bright, and there was hope in her 
 heart. Her letter was even now on its way to Helmer. 
 She did not need to ask herself how it would be received. 
 When the answer came she might be in a position to 
 give Geysbert a taste of the scorn that was burning to 
 reveal itself. She was certain now that Helmer knew 
 as little how matters stood at the manor house as the 
 inhabitants of the manor house knew how it fared with 
 him. When he knew all, who could tell what the result 
 would be?
 
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 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 "^HE upspringing of a great hope is as peace- 
 destroying as the crushing weight of a mighty 
 sorrow. The heart lifts itself to meet the possible 
 joy, ruthlessly overturning, by that one impulse, the 
 gentle virtues that patience has zealously fostered. 
 The upheaval in Aveline's heart was all the more vio- 
 lent for the restraints she had laid upon herself. For 
 madam's sake she had put her tongue in fetters, for it 
 tried her as much to hear Helmer defended as to listen 
 while any condemned him. 
 
 " If he had been innocent he would have found some 
 means of communicating with me," madam said. *' He 
 has not done so. There is but one inference." 
 
 And to all Aveline's hot words of protest she opposed 
 the answer of those tightly pressed, silent lips. Once, 
 when the girl's excitement caused her to go further than 
 usual, she said : 
 
 " My child, the flame of indignation keeps the young 
 heart warm, but the old heart is scorched by it. Spare 
 me, child. I am old, and sorrow has not spared me." 
 
 Aveline could do no less than seek to soothe her by 
 obeying her commands. The girl had grown very 
 tender towards madam, though at heart she cried out 
 against her decision. Now, with this rising up of hope 
 within her, it was harder than ever to keep silence, to be 
 calm and still in madam's presence. She was possessed 
 by a restlessness she could not control. 
 
 " Child, what ails you? The very spirit of unrest 
 seems to have taken possession of you," madam said. 
 
 Aveline looked at her for a moment, and the tears 
 welled up in her eyes.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 301 
 
 " I think it has," she said. 
 
 Madam did not turn away and busy herself with her 
 knitting, as she often did when Aveline's impetuosity 
 overstepped the bounds which madam had set about 
 herself and those who were with her. She looked at the 
 girl long and kindly, and her own eyes grew dim. 
 
 " Keep your faith, if you can," she said, breaking the 
 silence. " A groundless faith is a poor prop, but it is 
 better than none." 
 
 And Aveline could not tell her of the new hope in her 
 heart. It would be cruelty to speak of the treachery of 
 her elder son until she could assure her of the innocence 
 of the younger. 
 
 " Patience, patience," whispered the girl to herself. 
 " In fourteen days the answer will come. It will, for 
 Helmer will not fail her, now he knows." 
 
 She turned on madam an April-day smile, more than 
 half tears. 
 
 " If the prop should prove to be well grounded, even 
 the faithless may yet cling to it," she said. 
 
 After that she tried to school her face to tell no more 
 tales. For fourteen days she must awaken neither hope 
 nor fear, however much she herself was distracted by 
 such emotions. Madam must not be distressed. Ave- 
 line did not hide the truth from herself. The letter 
 Geysbert sent from New York had done what the fever 
 could not do. Madam's stout heart had succumbed 
 before the news it brought, and there was no more 
 strength in it for the conflict of hope and fear. She had 
 loved both her boys, but she had trusted Helmer as she 
 had never trusted Geysbert. And he had failed her. 
 It was a blow from which she could not recover. Her 
 hold on life gave way. She was not ill, but she had 
 grown suddenly old. 
 
 Geysbert seemed more than usually bold and self- 
 assertive in the days which followed that stolen journey
 
 302 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 to the forest. He was gathering up the reins more 
 tightly into his own hands. His mother left everything 
 to him now, and on his part he treated her with a tender 
 consideration that could not but be soothing to her. 
 Her elder son had never been so attentive, so thought- 
 ful of her wishes, as now that the younger had for- 
 saken her, and gone out into the world a wanderer. 
 Outside, however, he allowed his hand to be felt. 
 
 " Mr. Geysbert has a mind to be master over his 
 brother's inheritance as well as his own," remarked 
 Ryseck Schredel to her husband. " I thought he was 
 to content himself with his big new possession near 
 by the city, and leave the old home to Mr. Helmer." 
 
 " It's nothing less than all there is to have that will 
 content him in these days," said Philip, between the 
 long puffs at his pipe. " He's got his hand on the lot, 
 maidens and all, and it'll go hard with him if he take 
 not his pick." 
 
 " Aye, and there'll be but a sorry picking left for the 
 other, when his pick has been taken," said Ryseck. 
 
 To meet Geysbert with a semblance of friendliness 
 was the hardest thing in each of Aveline's days. For 
 madam's sake she did it, but when madam retired to 
 her own room, as she so often did now, Aveline's face 
 grew hard, and her tone uncompromising. The change 
 in her was not unnoticed by Geysbert, or by Probity, but 
 both held their peace. Only in Geysbert's heart there 
 was growing a deeper bitterness, that took in, not his 
 brother only, but this girl whom he loved in spite of 
 her defiance of him. He was as desperately angry 
 with her as he was in love with her. Once or twice, 
 when she met him with a more than usually pronounced 
 rebuff, his eyes gleamed dangerously. Aveline did not 
 notice them. She was thinking of his discomfiture 
 when the fourteen days were over, and she was at lib- 
 erty to do more than merely discourage his advances.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 303 
 
 She wanted to tell him plainly what she thought of him, 
 to let her contempt have full scope. At least she would 
 have the pleasure of seeing the flush of shame on his 
 cheek. She did not rightly know what she expected 
 as a result of her letter to Helmer. If it should bring 
 complete deliverance from the sorrow and suspense 
 that were overshadowing the manor house, she would 
 not be surprised. In any case it would bring news of 
 Helmer, reliable news, and that message for his mother, 
 for the want of which she had come to think him 
 guilty. So much was certain, for she had told him all 
 — Geysbert's report, his conclusion that his brother 
 was guilty, madam's hopeless sorrow, and Arent 
 Hooghland's watchful hatred. And she had promised 
 to be in the same spot in the forest on the fourteenth 
 night from the sending of her letter. She had no fear 
 that Helmer would fail her. 
 
 Perhaps returning hope quickened Aveline's sight, or 
 it may have been that each day as it passed told appre- 
 ciably on madam's resources. To Aveline it seemed 
 that the fourteen days had marked a definite change, a 
 lessening of her hold on the things of life. Bit by bit 
 she had given up the responsibilities of the household, 
 leaving more and more to the two girls. Now she 
 neglected even the supervision of affairs, and in the last 
 week Aveline noticed that she seldom asked questions. 
 
 " Do your own way, dear child, I have no doubt it 
 will be right," she said, when Aveline appealed to her 
 for directions. 
 
 There was suppressed excitement about the girl 
 when, on the afternoon of the fourteenth day, she 
 stooped suddenly and kissed madam's cheek. She did 
 it in passing, and would have gone on, but madam's 
 hand detained her. 
 
 " You may be right, child," she said. 
 
 " Madam, I am right."
 
 304 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 There was a light in Avehne's eyes. Madam sighed 
 and released her. 
 
 " Madam," said Aveline later on, when the daylight 
 had faded, and the tall candles in the big sconces gave 
 a subdued light in the large room, " I have finished the 
 apron upon which I was working, and which I had 
 designed for Ryseck Schredel. If you do not object, I 
 will carry it to her to-night, and talk with her awhile." 
 
 " Aye, go if you will," said madam. " Ryseck's 
 words are strong, but her heart is right, and she and 
 you will not quarrel." 
 
 For a moment a little of the old light was in madam's 
 eye as she looked at the girl. 
 
 " No, we shall not quarrel," said Aveline. " Ryseck 
 is a woman of discernment." 
 
 But, woman of discernment though she was, Aveline 
 did not stay long with her on that occasion. She was 
 so full of impatience that the five minutes she spent in 
 the good woman's cottage were a sore trial to her. The 
 walk in the forest was before her, and the triumph to 
 succeed it. For it would be a triumph over Geysbert 
 in any case, of that she felt sure. 
 
 There was no denying that she shrank from plung- 
 ing into the darkness under the trees. The night was 
 cloudy, and there was no moon. Prowling wild beasts 
 were undoubtedly in the thickets beyond, and the danger 
 of losing her way was not small. She knew the forest 
 a little, having often come to it with Helmer, who 
 delighted in teaching her woodcraft; but in the dark- 
 ness the path looked unfamiliar. 
 
 Outside the wood the snow was going fast, but 
 within, among the trees, it yet held its own. More than 
 once, in that walk, Aveline grew bewildered, and feared 
 that she had missed her way. If she failed to reach the 
 appointed spot, all would be lost, and Helmer would 
 think she had failed him. Once or twice a sudden rush-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 305 
 
 ing sound close by her side made her stand still in 
 quick alarm. There was so little light that she could 
 not tell what creature was near. Was she in the path 
 at all? Surely not, or she would have reached her 
 hiding place before this. It had taken her hours longer 
 to come than on the former occasion — or she thought 
 it had. 
 
 What news awaited her at the end? Suppose it 
 should be ill news, after all? She shook off her fear. 
 It unnerved her. 
 
 Would there ever be an end? That was more to the 
 point. Where was she? Could it be that she — 
 
 The question was not finished. She stumbled for- 
 ward into a deep hole, left by an uprooted tree. Then, 
 half-stunned, she partly raised herself from the ground, 
 and immediately gave vent to a low, glad laugh, the 
 outward sign of pressure on excited nerves. She had 
 fallen into her appointed waiting place. The object in 
 front of her was no other than Tyte's fallen tree. Now 
 she was safe. She had but to wait for the message. 
 
 Hark! What was that? The low cooing of a 
 pigeon. She did not stop to think — nor to fear. 
 She gave a quick answer. She stood up, trembling, 
 but not with terror. That was not the voice of the 
 Indian. Dozens of times that low call had come to her 
 in the forest. It was Helmer's own signal, and — that 
 was Helmer's voice. 
 
 " Avehne! My darhng ! " 
 
 Both hands w^ere in his, and he had bent his head till 
 his lips met hers. 
 
 "Oh, Helmer! I have wanted — we have wanted 
 you so ! " 
 
 She heard the quick heavy breathing, and felt the 
 pressure of his hands. 
 
 " Help me, dear," he said. " It is hard to remember 
 that he is my brother."
 
 3o6 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 That appeal brought Avehne to a consciousness of all 
 that was at stake, and of the responsibilities of that hour. 
 
 "We must not forget — for madam's sake," she said, 
 " Oh, Helmer, we must make her understand." 
 
 " Understand what, dear? " 
 
 "Why, that you could not do what they said." 
 
 " Bless you for your trust," he said. " If you had 
 asked whether or not I was innocent, I think I could 
 not have borne it." 
 
 "Why should I ask about what I know already?" 
 replied Aveline. " But I want to know why you cannot 
 prove it. I — Helmer, it seems cowardly to run away." 
 
 " Many a time I have been on the point of returning," 
 he said, " but the case is black against me, and Geys- 
 bert warned me to keep away at any cost. I waited to 
 hear what my mother would say. I have sent letter 
 after letter." 
 
 " And he destroyed them all. How dare he — " 
 
 " Hush, dear ! Probity would say that there was 
 danger in letting our angry passions loose." 
 
 Aveline could feel the smile, though she did not see 
 it. She drew closer to him. He put his arm about her. 
 
 " If this had not happened, would you ever have 
 come to me thus?" he said. " I may not ask it now, 
 but — " 
 
 " If you will not take it now, you — you could not 
 have cared enough about it to have had a right to it 
 then," she said, half tearfully, half defiantly. 
 
 " AveHne ! " 
 
 They both forgot the night, and the suspicion that 
 hung over one of them, and the dangers ahead. There 
 was no loneliness for Aveline in the forest now, and she 
 did not know that the wind blew coldly. As for Hel- 
 mer, he was content. Aveline believed in him, Aveline 
 was his, now and always. No ! He drew himself up to 
 his full height, and his hold relaxed.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 307 
 
 " It is very sweet," he said, " but it must not be, at 
 least until all the world acknowledges that I am worthy 
 of you." 
 
 " I am not going to ask all the world," she said. 
 
 And he — well, he had just made a very virtuous 
 resolve, but who could expect that hps which spoke 
 such words would be resisted? 
 
 "And you would give yourself to me as I am — a 
 suspected murderer?" he asked tenderly. 
 
 "That way, or none," she said decidedly. 
 
 It was a long, sweeping gust of wind that awoke 
 Helmer from the forgetfulness of that hour. 
 
 " I am selfish," he said, " Tell me about my mother." 
 
 Aveline's voice trembled as she obeyed, and before 
 the story was finished, her head was on his shoulder, 
 and her voice was broken with tears. A big warm drop 
 came splashing on her forehead. 
 
 " Poor little mother ! " Helmer's voice was choked. 
 " I must go to her. And yet it must be done cau- 
 tiously, for — Geysbert is not to be trusted. And for 
 her sake we must risk as little as possible." 
 
 "What have you to fear from Geysbert?" asked 
 Aveline. "What evidence is there against you?" 
 
 Then he told her all, and she stood silently listen- 
 ing. 
 
 " The negro himself is the murderer," she said. 
 "There was no other to do it." 
 
 " It seems as if it must be so," he replied, " But how 
 to prove it? I cannot expect to secure the evidence of 
 the boat's crew. To appeal to them would be to in- 
 volve them in difficulty. And they think me guilty, in 
 any case." 
 
 " Then we must wait, and watch the negro," said Ave- 
 line. " His past should be hunted up." 
 
 " Why, you are a splendid little counsellor," said 
 Helmer. " I thought of that myself, and wrote to Geys-
 
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 bert about it, but he returned no answer to that part of 
 my letter. He beheves me guilty." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The one word was so expressive that no other was 
 needed. 
 
 " And now, dear, when do you think I can see my 
 mother? " asked Helmer at last. 
 
 " Why, you will see her to-night, won't you ? You 
 must be away before morning." 
 
 " It would be safer," he said. 
 
 " Yes. Arent Hooghland is horribly vindictive." 
 
 She shuddered as she recalled his words, and his 
 savage frown whenever he encountered her. 
 
 " But my mother must not be startled — and she must 
 on no account be told more harm of Geysbert than is 
 absolutely necessary." 
 
 " What? You will spare him? " 
 
 Aveline spoke hotly. 
 
 " No, but I will spare my mother." 
 
 Aveline thought of the sad, weary face, and the closed 
 lips, and her heart grew heavy for madam. This joy 
 would be but a half joy for her. The conviction that 
 her younger son was worthy would be purchased by 
 the knowledge that the elder had deceived her. 
 
 "Poor madam ! Yes, we must spare her," she said. 
 
 It was late before Aveline stood by the door of the 
 manor house ; so late that her courage failed her. She 
 would explain to madam before long, but not now 
 and before Probity. A sudden impatience of Probity's 
 presence took possession of her. Why was she here, 
 or, if here, why did she allow her judgment to be warped 
 by Geysbert's influence? Her calm eyes were more 
 disturbing than madam's sharpest words. 
 
 But Aveline was not, called upon to encounter those 
 disapproving eyes. She opened the door noiselessly, 
 and entered the hall. Probity was nowhere to be seen.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 309 
 
 She passed quickly up the stairs, stopping suddenly on 
 the topmost step. That was Probity's voice. No other 
 had in it such mournful music. It came from madam's 
 own room, and the door was ajar. Aveline hesitated. 
 To reach her own room she must pass that open door. 
 Slie waited until Probity spoke again, and then sum- 
 moned her courage, and with quick, noiseless step passed 
 through the line of light. 
 
 They had not seen her. She was safe, but she was 
 not thinking of her safety. In that minute of passing, 
 words had reached her ears, and they were repeating 
 themselves without will of her own. 
 
 " Aye, dear aunt, you are right. The pain of the 
 transgressor must of a surety be greater than that which 
 his act inflicted. Think of it. My poor cousin ! Blood 
 guiltiness upon him ! A wanderer, and rightly so." 
 
 The voice dropped to a low, mournful lament, and 
 Aveline heard a quick sob in response. Her heart 
 burned. She no longer feared to tell madam, but her 
 hands trembled with excitement, and she felt that her 
 voice was hoarse. For a few minutes she waited, busy- 
 ing herself with putting away all traces of her journey. 
 Then she heard Probity go down-stairs, closing madam's 
 door behind her. Aveline did not hesitate. She went 
 swiftly to it, and knocked. 
 
 " What is it? " asked madam in surprise. She had 
 not expected to be disturbed again to-night. 
 
 "May I come in? " 
 
 Aveline's tone was pleading. 
 
 " Surely. Why, I thought you were in bed ! " 
 
 Madam yet sat in her chair by the fire. She looked 
 inquiringly at Aveline. 
 
 " Madam ! Dear madam ! " 
 
 Aveline crossed the room swiftly, and dropped on 
 her knees by the old lady, laying her head in her lap. 
 
 " Why, my dear child, what is it ? "
 
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 It was madam's hand that trembled now. 
 
 " Oh, madam, if it were all joy, it would be so much 
 easier to tell," she said, "but now — it is lifting one 
 burden to drop another in its place." 
 
 "You have something to tell me?" 
 
 Aveline had raised her head, and put her hand in 
 madam's. The pressure on it increased until it was 
 almost painful. 
 
 " Yes. Madam — I was right. I have seen Helmer." 
 
 The hold upon her hand tightened, and then re- 
 laxed. Madam's face grew very white. She tried to 
 rise. 
 
 " Help me," she said imperatively. "Where is he? 
 I must go to him." 
 
 " Nay, but he will come to you — soon," said Ave- 
 line, as she gently pressed her back into her chair. 
 " He sent me to tell you." 
 
 " You have seen him? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you were right? " 
 
 " I was right." 
 
 The girl said it proudly, 
 
 " Did Helmer say so? " 
 
 " Indeed, yes. He has been grievously sinned 
 against, but, madam, he has not sinned." 
 
 For a minute madam did not speak. Her head was 
 bowed. 
 
 " If Helmer said so, it is true. He would not lie," 
 she said at last. Then she added impatiently, " Why 
 does he not come? I am ready to see him." 
 
 " Madam, it is not safe. He has enemies, and he 
 knows not how to clear himself. There are more diffi- 
 culties than we have understood. His enemies are 
 watching for his life, and — worst of all — his brother 
 believes in his guilt, and has worked against him." 
 
 " Geysbert?"
 
 FREE TO SERVE 311 
 
 "Yes. But we must not blame him too much." 
 Aveline spoke eagerly. " He thinks Helmer guilty." 
 
 Madam sighed. 
 
 "Tell me ail, child," she said. 
 
 " I think — Helmer would rather tell you himself." 
 
 "You are right," said madam. " It is due to him — 
 and to me." 
 
 She had borne the shock well, but there was a dazed 
 expression on her face that Aveline did not altogether 
 like. It passed as she had time to think, 
 
 "You think that Geysbert is capable of working — 
 has worked — against his brother?" she said. 
 
 " Madam, I know it." 
 
 " Then it will be best that he should not see Helmer." 
 
 " That was what we thought." 
 
 " He is not in yet. There ! I hear his voice." 
 
 Aveline went to the door and listened. 
 
 " You are right," she said. " He has come in." 
 
 "How soon is Helmer coming?" 
 
 "Not till twelve." 
 
 " That is well. The house will then be still." 
 
 Madam was her old self again, capable of planning 
 for her boy's safety. 
 
 " You have arranged to let him in? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes. I am to go outside at twelve, if all be safe." 
 
 " Put out the lights," said madam. " It is time 
 the house was abed. And come, sit quietly here by 
 me." 
 
 She took the girl's hand in hers, and together they 
 waited and listened. The house grew gradually still. 
 First Geysbert's, and then Probity's step was heard 
 coming upstairs. Probity stopped for a moment by 
 her aunt's door, but hearing no sound, she passed on. 
 Madam must be in bed, she thought, and she felt a 
 strong wave of pity for the bruised heart that had shown 
 her to-night some of its soreness.
 
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 The stillness lasted for many minutes, and then a soft 
 footstep went down-stairs, and the door was opened. 
 
 "Mother! " 
 
 " My boy." 
 
 Aveline saw Helmer cross the room almost at a run, 
 saw madam come to meet him with hands outstretched, 
 and then shut the door and went away to her own room. 
 Then the excitement of the long evening, the reaction 
 from fear to joy, and the strain of suspense yet left, told 
 upon her, and she smothered her head in the bed- 
 clothes, and cried till either her tears or her sorrows 
 were exhausted. Afterward she got up and bathed her 
 face, anxious, even in this hour, that it should not be 
 disfigured with weeping. She heard the opening of a 
 door. Was some one in the house astir, or did Helmer 
 want her? She stole out into the upper hall. Helmer 
 was coming to meet her. 
 
 " Come with me," he said. " She wants you." 
 
 He led her in. 
 
 " Bless us, mother," he said, " and give her to me. 
 She belongs to me anyhow." 
 
 " Is it so, my child? " 
 
 Madam's voice was very gentle. 
 
 "Yes, madam." 
 
 " Then it should be mother," she said. " And right 
 glad I am that it should be so. Kiss me, my 
 daughter." 
 
 She took the girl in her arms. 
 
 " Helmer, you can afford to forgive your brother," 
 she said. " You have gained what he sorely coveted." 
 
 " Madam, he could never have had it," said Aveline 
 quickly. 
 
 Madam smiled. 
 
 " Probity is right. This heart has need of disci- 
 pline," she said.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 313 
 
 " Did my cousin say so? " asked Helmer. " Probity 
 is wise, yet at times she is sadly short-sighted." 
 
 '* My mother thinks it safest for me to keep away 
 until there is some chance of being cleared," explained 
 Helmer. " She says, like you, that the negro should be 
 watched." 
 
 " Yes. I will attend to that myself," said madam. 
 " I ought to have gone to New York in the first 
 instance. Geysbert was too easily led astray." 
 
 " But, mother, you are not fit to go." 
 
 " You knov/ nothing about it," replied madam, in her 
 old imperious manner. " What does a boy know of his 
 mother's powers? " 
 
 " Or of her love? " 
 
 Helmer stooped and kissed the white, wrinkled fore- 
 head. 
 
 " I will take Aveline," said madam. 
 
 It was a long, happy night, in spite of the sorrow 
 behind, and perhaps before. Madam herself brought 
 it to an end. 
 
 " You must go," she said. " You must be far away 
 before morning." 
 
 She had made many plans for his safety, providing 
 him with means to insure the help of the Indians, and 
 giving him much advice. At last she put her arms 
 about him. 
 
 " Now you must go," she said. 
 
 She would have gone down-stairs with him, but he 
 would not permit it. 
 
 *' Aveline will let me out, and fasten the door after 
 me," he protested. 
 
 He took his farewell of Aveline there, in his mother's 
 room. 
 
 " Now you are mine," he said, " and I oare not where 
 I go. I have you and my mother to think of." 
 
 They reached the hall door, and Helmer opened it.
 
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 "Good-by," he said, and stooped once more to kiss 
 her. When he Hfted his head it was to look into the 
 face of his brother. 
 
 " You ? And you dare to do that ! " 
 
 Geysbert lifted his clenched hand. 
 
 Helmer moved quickly aside. 
 
 "Not here, and now," he said. "Remember our 
 mother." 
 
 " I remember nothing but that you are a murderer, 
 and that you have dared to put your lips to hers." 
 
 Geysbert was beside himself. At that instant he 
 could have delivered up his brother to Arent Hoogh- 
 land's malice. 
 
 " You know that what you say is untrue. You know 
 that it is j^^^ who have deceived us all, and cheated him, 
 aye, and almost taken your mother's life. Who is the 
 murderer, if not you?" 
 
 Aveline stood before him, her face ablaze, her eyes 
 looking into his with scorching scorn. The oppor- 
 tunity for which she had waited had come. 
 
 " I have nothing to say to you in the matter," said 
 Geysbert savagely. " I have only to deal with him. 
 Aye, and by my life I'll do it." 
 
 " What will you do, my son? " 
 
 Madam's voice was not raised above its ordinary 
 tones, but it thrilled the three who listened to it. For 
 the moment Geysbert quailed before it. When madam 
 spoke thus her sons were in the habit of listening, yes, 
 and of giving her the answer she demanded. 
 
 Geysbert looked at her, and from her to the others. 
 When his eye met Aveline's his passion burst even the 
 barriers of his mother's authority. 
 
 " I will bring him to the retribution he deserves. I 
 will teach him what it means to come here and palm 
 himself off for an honest man — he — a murderer!" 
 
 " You will betray your brother? "
 
 FREE TO SERVE 315 
 
 "Yes, I will." 
 
 "Then you are no son of mine. Go! This is no 
 place for you." 
 
 Madam spoke firmly. Her eyes flashed. Geysbert 
 hesitated. 
 
 " If I go, it will be the worse for all concerned," he 
 said. 
 
 " Mother ! Geysbert ! Let it rest. I am going," 
 said Helmer. " Geysbert, how can you, how dare you, 
 try her thus? " 
 
 For madam's face had grown white to the very lips. 
 Helmer put his arm about her. 
 
 "Let me help you upstairs again, mother," he said. 
 
 " No. Not till he either leaves this house, or retracts 
 what he has said." 
 
 Geysbert stood irresolute. 
 
 " I will do him no injury," he said at last, sullenly and 
 savagely, " if he will keep away. But I believe him 
 guilty. He has told a pack of lies to you, and you 
 believe him. I have sifted the evidence, and I know. 
 Let him stay away. He shall have all the money he 
 needs, and shall be safe. But if he come here, and — 
 and dare to try to take the place of a son of this house, I 
 will not answer for the consequences." 
 
 " Let it be so," said Helmer, whose eyes were fixed 
 on his mother's face. Then he whispered : " You must 
 not distress yourself thus. You know you are going to 
 clear me." 
 
 " True, my son," she answered, in the same low 
 voice. 
 
 " Geysbert," said Helmer, " I accept banishment for 
 the present. You are unjust, and you know it. But 
 for my mother's sake I will go. Be good to her, how- 
 ever bad you have been to me." 
 
 He turned, took madam in his arms, and went up- 
 stairs. When he came down again, his face was set.
 
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 " Remember, I expect at least that you will be good 
 to her," he said. " She cannot bear much more. I 
 will not answer now for what your brutality to-night has 
 done." 
 
 His hand touched Aveline's. He gave her one lin- 
 gering look, and disappeared in the darkness.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 317 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 1 THINK, dear Geysbert, that the principle upon 
 which you have acted is right. A weak leniency 
 is the most subtle form of temptation. Sin must 
 surely be punished, however much we love the sinner. 
 Nay, the greater our love, the more it must weigh against 
 him in our judgment, for we need to guard jealously 
 lest natural affection impel us to shield him from the 
 consequences of his ill-doing." 
 
 "My mother thinks differently." 
 
 Geysbert's fingers tapped impatiently on the high 
 mantelshelf. He looked down at Probity. Her face, 
 white and passionless, was yet full of tender feeling for 
 him in his perturbed mood. Truly, as madam had re- 
 marked, Geysbert was singularly blind. He attached 
 but slight importance to Probity's ever-ready sympathy, 
 though, if at any moment it had failed him, he would 
 have missed it sadly. 
 
 " My poor aunt has suffered much," responded Prob- 
 ity, " and I fear her heart was ever weak where her 
 loved ones were concerned." 
 
 " Helmer is deceiving her, and she is determined to 
 let him." Geysbert's tone was wrathful. " I would have 
 saved her from it, and from him. But she will have her 
 own way." 
 
 " My heart is sore for her," rejoined Probity. " She 
 is seeking to heal the wounded spirit with the balm of 
 earthly love." 
 
 " I knew just how it would be," continued Geysbert. 
 " It was solely for her sake that I kept the letters from her. 
 I was convinced she was weak enough to believe them. 
 If Helmer had had any reasonable tale to tell, I would
 
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 have given him the benefit of the doubt ; but the story- 
 was so manifestly" a lie, that I felt it my duty to shield 
 my mother from further contact with one who was bent 
 on deceiving her." 
 
 " I believe you were actuated by right motives," said 
 Probity kindly," but perchance you may yet come to see 
 that, even for a good cause, we may not stoop to subter- 
 fuge. My mind acquits you of evil intent, nay, it com- 
 mends the motive which led to the transgression, yet to 
 me all deceit, all want of openness, is sin. I would not 
 willingly grieve you, cousin, but I must be honest with 
 my own soul and yours." 
 
 There were tears in her eyes as she lifted them towards 
 him. 
 
 " You are too much of a saint for me," he said irri- 
 tably. " Such scruples are beyond me. I acted for the 
 best, let my mother say what she may." 
 
 Geysbert was disturbed, grievously disturbed. He 
 had seen his cherished plans upset before his eyes. 
 He had determined that Aveline and Helmer should 
 never again meet, and he had come face to face with 
 them at a moment when he could not fail to see how 
 fully they understood each other. His deceit had 
 answered no end. His reward was Aveline's scorn, and 
 madam's just indignation. He was writhing under a 
 sense of failure. The night had been a trying one. 
 Called to madam's presence immediately after his 
 brother's departure, he had gone with hot anger scorch- 
 ing his heart. Aveline's words when she came to sum- 
 mon him had not tended to cool his passion. 
 
 " I do not know whether it be a matter of any impor- 
 tance to you," she said, " but madam's life hangs by a 
 more slender thread than you perchance realize, and 
 you have touched it roughly enough for one night." 
 
 He scowled at her, and strode up the stairs. How- 
 ever frail madam's hold on life might be, he found that
 
 FREE TO SERVE 319 
 
 her hold on circumstances was sufficiently strong. Her 
 will had suffered no weakening. She insisted on a full 
 and explicit account of his dealings with Helmer, and 
 her sharp, imperative questions cut through the sophistry 
 of his arguments, and made him feel like a culprit while 
 he posed as a virtuous defender of right. 
 
 Madam exhibited extreme candour on that occasion, 
 and took the opportunity to lay before her elder son 
 some rather unpleasant alternatives. He found it expe- 
 dient to show less virulence as the interview progressed, 
 though he steadfastly refused to allow any doubt on the 
 subject of Helmer's guilt. He had decided that Helmer 
 was guilty. His whole course of action had been 
 planned on the supposition that he was guilty. It was 
 absolutely essential to his peace of mind that Helmer 
 should be guilty. He would not admit the possibility 
 of mistake. But he admitted the danger of a too vigor- 
 ous course of action against his brother. His mother's 
 will was — and always had been — law at the manor 
 house. 
 
 " You are unjust to me," he said sullenly. " You are 
 deceived, and you want to be. I would never have 
 acted as I have done if I had not been absolutely cer- 
 tain that Helmer's hand dealt Myndert that blow." 
 
 " The heart that desires to believe evil finds no diffi- 
 culty about ways and means," said madam. " Be honest 
 with yourself, my son, and then you will be more honest 
 towards your brother." 
 
 " I cannot see your way," said Geysbert at last. 
 " But I wash my hands of the whole business. Only let 
 Helmer keep away. The sight of him here — after 
 what he has done — is more than I can stand. Myndert 
 was my friend, and I saw him after the cruel wound was 
 given. I shall never forget that face — nor that Hel- 
 mer was responsible for it." 
 
 Madam sighed.
 
 320 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " It is not so much your judgment that needs con- 
 vincing, as your heart," she said. " Yet you believe 
 what you say. So far you are honest. I can talk no 
 more. I am tired, very tired. Leave me now. IfAve- 
 line be below, tell her to go to bed, though it is late for 
 such an injunction. And you — go you to bed like- 
 wise." 
 
 It was not a recommendation, it was a command. 
 He laughed impatiently. 
 
 "Does a mother's command seem irritating to you?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " You think I am a boy still," he said. 
 
 " Nay — but I wish you were." 
 
 She laid her hand on his arm. He took it in his. 
 Then he stooped and kissed her. 
 
 '• I am going to bed," he said. 
 
 "Thank you, my son. I will try to rest." 
 
 There was a lessening of the tension of madam's face 
 as she spoke, and a nervous quiver of her lower lip. 
 Geysbert saw it, and it smote him with a sudden pain. 
 He stooped over her again. 
 
 " Poor little mother ! " he said. " Your sons are a sad 
 trouble to you." 
 
 Aveline's anger against Geysbert had been fierce 
 enough in that early morning to threaten a disturbance 
 of the peace. Before night came, however, Geysbert 
 was a very secondary thought. For it was clear to 
 Aveline that the excitement had dangerously reduced 
 madam's stock of strength. She did not attempt to rise. 
 She lay fighting off weakness with that unquenchable 
 will of hers. 
 
 " I must rest. I am going to New York," she said. 
 " We will clear him yet — you and I, my daughter." 
 
 "You were altogether wrong in your judgment, child," 
 she said to Probity. " I have seen my son Helmer, and 
 he has satisfactorily explained that which was mysteri-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 321 
 
 ous. It only remains to clear him. That may possibly 
 be a long business, but I shall set about it as soon as I 
 feel stronger." 
 
 " And in the meantime you must rest, dear aunt," 
 said Probity pityingly. 
 
 " Yes. I must rest. I have need of all my strength." 
 
 Aveline watched that fight between weakness and 
 determination with intense anxiety. She had never 
 loved madam as she loved her now. They were one in 
 sympathy. They two were alone, for it was soon evi- 
 dent that Probity inclined to Geysbert's view of the 
 case, and still believed Helmer guilty. Madam took the 
 knowledge very quietly. 
 
 " You must judge for yourself," she said, when an 
 answer to one of her remarks had shown her the bent of 
 Probity's thought. " You will do that in any case, T 
 doubt not. For so young a maid you have a singularly 
 strong reliance on the wisdom of your own judgment." 
 
 The week after Helmer's visit found madam still fight- 
 ing against weakness as determinately as ever, and to 
 all appearance making a successful fight. 
 
 "April is already here," she said. " Before it is over 
 we will go." 
 
 To Aveline she was the Madam Feljer of old, but with 
 more tenderness. Her lips had lost their tight pressure. 
 Even Geysbert's attitude did not altogether discourage 
 her. 
 
 " Geysbert was ever passionate," she said. " Yet we 
 must not forget the provocation. You were always 
 before him, my child, and you are — a great tempta- 
 tion, to say the least of it." 
 
 Aveline smiled, and shook her head. 
 
 " Yet Geysbert is not all evil," continued madam. 
 " He has allowed his judgment to be led astray. He 
 honestly believes Helmer guilty — because he wishes 
 so to believe. Let him find himself in the wrong, and
 
 322 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 know of a certainty that his brother is innocent, and 
 he will repent of his injustice, and be ashamed of his 
 deceit." 
 
 As the days passed, madam grew strong enough to 
 make active preparations for her journey, but sometimes 
 Aveline watched her fearfully. Her strength was so 
 manifestly the result of a determined gathering together 
 of all her forces. She gained because she would gain. 
 How long would such an effort last? Would it really 
 give the failing body power? 
 
 " Mother, the ducks are coming northward," an- 
 nounced Geysbert one afternoon. 
 
 " Then good-by to law and order for the present," 
 said madam. " Are you going to wait here, or meet 
 the birds at the swamp?" 
 
 " At the swamp. It is the best place." 
 
 Geysbert seemed more like himself than he had done 
 since his journey to New York. For the time, the 
 excitement of the duck-shooting had put everything 
 else out of his mind. The passing of great flocks of 
 pigeons, ducks, and geese, made the month of April a 
 lively season among the Dutch settlers. The very 
 slaves were then possessed with the spirit of license. 
 At dawn of day every hand that could hold a gun was 
 uplifted against the life of some feathered traveller. 
 Ducks and geese were the only things thought of, and 
 about this time they appeared on the table in every 
 guise. On the Feljer estate there was a large swamp 
 close to the river. Hither came the ducks each year in 
 passing, and here the slaughter was immense. Geysbert 
 was eager to be off. There was little less excitement 
 among the negroes. 
 
 " I will not stay away more than two nights at a 
 time," said Geysbert, looking a little doubtfully at 
 madam. 
 
 " It will not hurt you to come back on the second
 
 FREE TO SERVE 323 
 
 day," she said, " but you'll be of no use for anything 
 but duck-shooting until the birds are all gone." 
 
 When he had disappeared madam turned to her own 
 preparations again. 
 
 " I shall leave you in charge," she said to Probity, 
 " but Ryseck Schredel must come to look after you. 
 You are a steady maid enough, yet I shall rest better 
 for the knowledge that the eye of an older woman is 
 over everything. I have already spoken to Ryseck." 
 
 " It shall be as you desire in all things, dear aunt," 
 answered Probity. 
 
 "Well?" said madam inquiringly. "What was be- 
 neath those words?" 
 
 Probity started. Had she allowed her thought to 
 appear so plainly? 
 
 " Did there seem aught behind? " she asked. " I did 
 not mean that it should be so. I was but thinking that 
 you were unfit to take so great a journey. You look 
 so frail, dear aunt." 
 
 She did look frail — frailer than usual. Aveline had 
 seen it when she went to madam in the morning, and it 
 was that, although he did not know it, which had made 
 Geysbert arrange to come back in two days. Probity's 
 eyes had been following her aunt's movements for a 
 long time. 
 
 "Frail, do I? I am not very robust, surely," said 
 madam. " Rest suits me best. I will even go and 
 take h." 
 
 She rose to go to her room, but she walked to the 
 window instead. The light was fading, though it was 
 strong enough to show the delicate outline of her 
 face. Aveline thought it had never looked so delicate 
 before. 
 
 " There is an Indian approaching the house," said 
 madam calmly. " Aveline, go you and see what he 
 wants. Perchance he has a packet for me. And make
 
 324 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 sure, in that case, that he remain until an answer is 
 ready." 
 
 Aveline gave one startled look, and turned to the 
 door. 
 
 " There is no haste, my child," said madam warningly. 
 " The coming of an Indian is no unusual occurrence. 
 This one is to be met as all others." 
 
 Aveline restrained her impetuosity. She saw the 
 danger of attracting notice. As madam had said, the 
 visit of an Indian was no unusual thing. And on closer 
 inspection she perceived that this one carried some 
 ducks. She approached him nervously. Did he indeed 
 bring letters from Helmer? 
 
 "You must not go in the forest alone again," Helmer 
 had said. " It is not safe, and Geysbert might suspect. 
 I will communicate directly with my mother." 
 
 " The sister of the snow is welcomed by the wings of 
 the wind," said the Indian, in a low tone. 
 
 "You bring letters?" asked Aveline. 
 
 " From the white brother." 
 
 "You are welcome," she said. " And these ducks — 
 bring them to the house, and I will see that a suitable 
 present is made you." 
 
 She went on ahead to make arrangements. The 
 precious packet was hidden in her dress. 
 
 " Aveline ! " 
 
 Probity's voice greeted her when she returned to the 
 hall. 
 
 " Yes, I am coming," said the girl breathlessly. 
 
 " Madam has gone to her room. Come upstairs." 
 
 Something in Probity's tone stopped the eager beat- 
 ing of Aveline's heart. 
 
 " She is ill," said Probity; "take her the letter." 
 
 Aveline checked the exclamation that rose to her 
 lips as she entered the room. The blue-white look of 
 
 i
 
 FREE TO SERVE 325 
 
 madam's face frightened her. She had much difficulty 
 in controlHng the expression of her fear. 
 
 " Come here, child." 
 
 Madam's voice was faint. Aveline sprang towards 
 her, and put her arms about her. 
 
 " What is it, dear — mother? " 
 
 " I have fought against weakness and been defeated, 
 my child. That is all. Read what he says." 
 
 She forgot her weakness as Aveline read, and the 
 light came back to her eye. The letter was full of lov- 
 ing words, and assurances that the writer would be very 
 cautious. 
 
 " Yet, if there should be need of me," he said, " I am 
 not far away. Send for me, and I will come." 
 
 As Aveline read the words she heard a low sob. 
 
 " There is need," said madam. " Let him come." 
 
 " Yes. And Probity? " whispered Aveline, in a voice 
 that was choked. 
 
 " Probity will stay with me the first half of the night. 
 I shall need her. At eleven you will take her place, 
 and she will go to bed. As soon after that as possible 
 he must come." 
 
 Madam's voice had grown faint again. 
 
 " Go, see about it," she said. " And send Probity to 
 me. Even the task of climbing on to yonder bed has 
 become too much for my strength." 
 
 The tears were on Aveline's cheeks as she went to find 
 Probity. She had not far to go. The girl was waiting 
 at the head of the stairs. 
 
 " She is ill — very ill," said Aveline tearfully. 
 
 " Geysbert must be summoned." 
 
 " Not to-night. We must do madam's will. She will 
 herself summon him when she thinks best." 
 
 Aveline spoke hastily. She was fearful. If Probity 
 should send for Geysbert, all would be lost. She need 
 not have feared. Madam had anticipated the difficulty.
 
 326 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " To-morrow, after daybreak, you must send for Geys- 
 bert," she said, as Probity entered, " but not before. 
 Let the lad enjoy one morning's shooting in peace." 
 
 After Aveline had sent Probity to madam, she went 
 to find the Indian. Helmer must come at once, there 
 was no time to be lost. 
 
 "The white brother is wanted," she said. "How 
 soon can he be here? His foot should be swift, for 
 there is need of haste." 
 
 " Before that star dips behind the hills," replied the 
 Indian, pointing to one which was far down. 
 
 " It is well. Give him this," she said. 
 
 Madam had not counted in vain on Probity's habit of 
 obedience. 
 
 " Child," she said, " you are very good and thought- 
 ful. I should find it hard to do without you. Strive- 
 well lent to me a treasure of value when he sent me 
 you. You have accorded to me a daughter's loving 
 service. To-night I would try that service further by 
 laying a command upon you. At eleven Aveline is to 
 come to me, and remain all night. I desire that at that 
 hour you should go to your bed, and to sleep. Unless 
 I send for you, I ask that you should not rise. If I need 
 you, I will send Aveline for you." 
 
 Probity looked at her earnestly. 
 
 " I would not be intrusive," she said, " but I have 
 surely more experience than Aveline, and, dear aunt, I 
 fear you are seriously ill." 
 
 " Yes, I am ill. That is why I ask." 
 
 Madam's eyes were fixed on her niece. 
 
 " Your responsibilities go no further than your duties, 
 my child," she added kindly, " and sometimes the duty 
 of acquiescence in the will of another is the highest form 
 of service. Does the fact that your father committed 
 you to my charge give me no right to command?" 
 
 Again Probity hesitated. Her face was troubled.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 32;^ 
 
 " I will obey you, dear aunt," she said, after that 
 momentary silence, and she said it very gently. 
 
 " 1 did not doubt that you would, my dear," replied 
 madam, and then she lay quite still, and to Probity it 
 seemed that every minute her face grew whiter. She 
 was lying thus when her niece left her, and when Helmer 
 came. 
 
 " Mother ! If I had only known sooner ! " he said. 
 
 " There was nothing to know. Until to-night I was 
 expecting to go to New York. I shall never go now, 
 Helmer." 
 
 " No. You must not think of that. I shall be cleared 
 some day." 
 
 Through the hours of the night he sat by her, his 
 hand in hers. As it grew towards morning Aveline 
 left them, the mother and son, alone. She went 
 down into the room where madam had been sitting a 
 few hours before, planning for her journey. Aveline 
 turned to the chair she had occupied. What would 
 that room be without her? She shivered, and put fresh 
 wood on the fire. It blazed up in a manner suggestive 
 of hope and comfort. There were tears on the girl's 
 cheeks, and a weary, desolate sorrow in her eyes. The 
 firelight fell on the grieved face, and was reflected by 
 the falling tears. 
 
 Just so Helmer found her long after, when he came 
 softly down the stairs. The picture of that room, as he 
 saw it then, never faded from his brain. The dark 
 warmth of the brown wainscot, the brown carved furni- 
 ture, and the great brown press where the linen was 
 kept, was brightened by the sheen of the brass sconces, 
 in which candles — made from the wax of the wax- 
 myrtle berry, that they might give out a balsamic per- 
 fume when extinguished — burned with a soft light. 
 The firelight danced back from the surface of the brass 
 box where dried hemp-stalks waited to be made useful
 
 328 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 in lighting the candles, and fell on the long blow-pipe, 
 so essential an article when the fire burned low and 
 needed its rousing breath, or the lights that were above 
 reach were to be blown out. The blue of old Delft jars 
 and plaques mingled with the browns, and in the midst 
 of all was the figure of Aveline, drooping and sad, with 
 a face that lighted up as he came towards her. 
 
 " My mother sent me away," he said. " I would risk 
 all and stay, but she will not have it so. Oh, Aveline, it 
 is bitter to leave her! " 
 
 " She has held out so long," said Aveline. " She set 
 her will against the weakness, and it seemed as if she 
 would win. She was so brave and determined." 
 
 " I shall not go far away," he said. " You must let 
 me know before night. I shall send." 
 
 There was a sound above. The daylight was enter- 
 ing the room. He kissed her hastily. 
 
 " Go to her," he said. " She must not be left." 
 
 When Aveline went upstairs she found Probity with 
 her aunt. 
 
 " It is morning, dear aunt Wyntie," the girl said. 
 " Your commands did not extend beyond daylight." 
 
 Madam smiled faintly. 
 
 " As soon as it is light you may send for Geysbert," 
 she replied. 
 
 The failure of strength was complete. By the time 
 Geysbert arrived madam found speaking difficult. What 
 she said to her elder son none knew. She sent Probity 
 and Aveline away. When they returned she was lying 
 with her hand in his. She smiled upon them, but did 
 not speak. Her last words had been spoken to Geys- 
 bert. Before night came the manor house was in 
 mourning. Madam was at its head no longer.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 329 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 " TT may be English law, for aught I know, but it's 
 
 I neither justice nor right." 
 
 JL The pewter bottle which Ryseck Schredel bran- 
 dished as she spoke was brought so near to Philip's nose, 
 in the energy of her remarks, that the good man re- 
 treated hastily. 
 
 " Better tell Mr. Geysbert so," said Philip drily. 
 
 " And do you think I've not told him so? Am I one 
 to say less to a man's face than behind his back, eh? 
 Since when has Ryseck Schredel turned coward, or lost 
 the use of her tongue? " 
 
 " Nay, I never doubted the tongue," interposed 
 Philip. 
 
 " And you've no need. Mr. Geysbert does not doubt 
 it, I warrant you." , 
 
 " What? You told him to his face? " 
 
 "That did I, and the truth lacked nothing in plain- 
 ness by my handling, I'll swear." 
 
 "And what said he?" asked Philip, his heavy face 
 growing red with the excitement of curiosity. 
 
 " What said he? That my business was to make the 
 butter, and, since his mother had so decreed it, to take 
 the oversight of the house, but that with action of his I 
 had naught to do." 
 
 " Ah ! That shut you up, my woman." 
 
 " Shut me up ! Don't you know me yet, Philip 
 Schredel? It's not many men have been foohsh enough 
 to try to shut me up, but when one sets himself to do 
 it, he's likely to get more than he bargained for. Mr. 
 Geysbert had got a lesson to learn, and I was the one 
 to teach him it. And that he might have a chance to
 
 330 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 learn it the better, I slammed to that door, and put my 
 back against it, for safety's sake, and then he got a piece 
 of my mind, and a good generous piece too, for all he 
 is the young master." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " Yes, he did. There were thoughts in my brain that 
 wanted to be let out, and I let them come with a good 
 stout sweep. He's no more right to the manor house, 
 or to anything that belongs to it, than I have, and I told 
 him so. And I didn't pick my words either. What 
 care I for English law, or any other law, save the 
 law of right and justice? His father meant the manor 
 house for Helmer, and his mother would have left it to 
 Helmer, if death had not overtaken the poor lady all of 
 a sudden. That being so, I let him know that he was 
 little better than a common thief to clutch hold of his 
 brother's share as well as his own, almost before the 
 breath was out of the poor woman's body. If there was 
 no will, — and of that I was not so sure as most people, 
 for I knew madam, dear lady, had either made one, or 
 intended to make one, — it was none the less a robbery 
 on his part to take his brother's possession. The will 
 was in his mother's mind, and he could have read it 
 there, aye, and had read it a dozen times, and whether 
 it was writ down with a pen or not, it was in existence, 
 for madam knew it, and he knew it, and we all knew it 
 was meant to be, and he was cheating the dead as well 
 as the living to behave as if there had been no will." 
 
 " I should have been sorry to have come across Mr. 
 Geysbert directly after you told him that," said Philip 
 slowly. 
 
 " That's a true word. You would. And you'd have 
 had reason to be sorry. When a man has to listen 
 against his will to what he knows is true, but what he'd 
 give his eyes to be able to prove a lie, he shows the side 
 of himself that's not nearest to the angel. I took occa-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 3.51 
 
 sion to tell him that also. Since he must needs ram- 
 page, I deemed it best to give him something to rampage 
 for." 
 
 "You hadn't it all to yourself, then? He found 
 something to say as well as you, eh, old woman?" 
 
 " As zvell, say you? Do you call it well for a man 
 to be driven by his passion to the use of words that are 
 neither decent Dutch nor English ? When a youth has 
 to take to the fiery words of hell before he can give 
 vent to his feelings, it's proof that he's got pretty much 
 in sympathy with the doomed spirits whose language he 
 borrows." 
 
 " You're a mighty woman, Ryseck," said Philip appre- 
 ciatively, " yet it would have been small wonder if Mr. 
 Geysbert had commanded you to go, about your busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " That did he, surely, but little cared I for his com- 
 mands," said Ryseck. " I told him I was going about 
 my business, and just now my business was to do what 
 nobody else felt inclined to do, though doubtless all 
 saw the need. His mother was not here to reprove him 
 for his ill deeds, and I would even perform the duty for 
 her. For the rest, I had come from Old Nederland to 
 make the butter for madam, and the butter I should 
 make, and since she had desired me to keep house for 
 her, and see to the welfare of the young maidens, 
 Mistress Probity and Mistress Aveline, I was going 
 to respect her wishes, whatever he might see fit to do. 
 The manor house was my place, and at the manor house 
 I would stay." 
 
 It was true that Geysbert had shown considerable 
 haste in making himself master of the manor house and 
 all that pertained thereto. Since no will was found, the 
 whole of the property fell to him as heir-at-law. He totally 
 ignored Helmer's claim. In the preparations for the 
 funeral, which were made on the extensive scale that
 
 332 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 befitted Madam Feljer's rank, he made no mention of 
 his brother. Once, indeed, Hehner's name was heard, 
 and that was when Arent Hooghland presented himself 
 at the manor house. 
 
 " I've got it on my mind that you'll be thinking that 
 Helmer Feljer, my son Myndert's murderer, may with 
 safety come back to madam's funeral," he said. " You're 
 hugely mistaken if you think so. Let him set foot on 
 this land, and wherever I see him, at his mother's grave, 
 or over her dead body, I'll not hesitate. At that moment 
 I strike for the revenge of my son. I give you fair 
 warning. I'd shoot him at sight, but I'd rather see him 
 hang. It is a death more worthy of him." 
 
 " I know nothing of Helmer Feljer," said Geysbert 
 coldly. " The manor house is his home no longer. I 
 see no reason why he should come here, any more than 
 elsewhere. If he did not visit his mother in life, you 
 have little reason to suppose he will do so now that she 
 is dead." 
 
 Yet Arent Hooghland watched the house with jealous 
 eyes, possibly more with the object of showing his power, 
 than because he really believed that Helmer would 
 venture to appear. He himself followed madam to the 
 grave, amongst the rest of the tenants, that he might be 
 quite sure her younger son was not there. 
 
 To those whose curiosity impelled them to question 
 him on the subject of the existence of a will, Geysbert 
 replied calmly. 
 
 " I believe there was once a will in which my father 
 and mother left the manor house to my unfortunate 
 brother," he said, " but it is not now to be found. I 
 knew that there was in my mother's mind some idea of 
 destroying that will. Doubtless she carried out her in- 
 tention in the days between my brother's disappearance 
 and her own serious illness. I feel no uneasiness about 
 it. Had she wished it to be carried into effect, I am sure
 
 FREE TO SERVE 333 
 
 she would have preserved it. My mother was a woman 
 of careful habits. What she has done, she has done in- 
 tentionally." 
 
 Aveline's indignation at his assumption of authority 
 at the manor house knew no bounds. For a time it 
 rendered her speechless. But when the funeral was 
 over, she turned on him. 
 
 " Do you really mean to steal Helmer's birthright? " 
 she asked one day, without preface of any kind, 
 
 " I am not aware that Helmer has a birthright, or a 
 right of any kind," was the reply, and Geysbert looked 
 steadily at the girl as he spoke. " It may sound brutal 
 to say it, but the right to a rope's length is all he can 
 claim under the circumstances." 
 
 The hot blood surged over Aveline's face, and then 
 receded, leaving it white with emotion. 
 
 "You have sunk low," she said. "Truly, evil works 
 apace. In the days when your father lived, you were 
 not capable of this wrong." 
 
 " I thank you for your flattering words," he answered, 
 and his lips twitched with the intensity of his passion, 
 " Know, however, once for all, that I am master here — 
 of the manor house, and of all my mother's possessions." 
 
 His glance at Aveline was significant. She under- 
 stood, as he meant she should, and she quailed before 
 it. Of the possessions which came to him by his 
 mother's death and his brother's absence, there was 
 one that he cared more about than all the rest. Nay, it 
 was for this one that he valued the rest. His mother's 
 maid was now his property. Had Helmer inherited the 
 manor house, he would, along with it, have come into 
 possession of all his mother's servants. It was not 
 greed mainly — though Geysbert was not averse to the 
 increased wealth — that made him rejoice in the inheri- 
 tance which had fallen to him through Helmer's misfort- 
 une. His hold on Aveline was the first thing of which
 
 334 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 he thought. He would have sacrificed all the estate 
 rather than have given that up. 
 
 If Aveline shrank before the hidden meaning in his 
 words, it did not take her long to rally. 
 
 " I have a concern of my own about which I would 
 speak to you," she said. "I came here as your 
 mother's maid. Dear madam is dead. I can be of no 
 further use to her. I ask you for permission to buy my 
 freedom. Nay," she said, as she saw the refusal in his 
 eye, " I ask it not as a favour, but as a right. For 
 madam and for your father I performed the duty of a 
 daughter. They were both pleased to tell me so. I 
 claim as a recompense of my services the right to pay 
 you back the money you gave to Captain Crandal, and 
 to call myself a free woman." 
 
 "And I deny that right." 
 
 Geysbert's eye was fixed upon her. There was in it 
 triumph and passion mingled. 
 
 "You deny it?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " You pronounce yourself destitute of either shame 
 or manliness? " 
 
 " If you choose to put it so, yes." 
 
 " Geysbert Feljer, I pity you more than I do myself. 
 Until now I knew not how low it was possible for man 
 to sink." 
 
 She turned from him to fasten herself in her room, 
 and walk up and down in passionate despair. She had 
 thought he would not dare to refuse her her freedom. 
 It was so manifestly her right. She must be free to go 
 to New York, and pursue the inquiry madam was to 
 have undertaken. How could Helmer be cleared unless 
 some one went to watch the negro ? Now things must 
 remain as they were. 
 
 " It was unjust of madam to leave it thus," she cried, 
 and then she reproached herself for the thought.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 335 
 
 Death had overtaken madam suddenly, or she would 
 never have left her younger son unprovided for. But 
 had she done so? Was it possible that she could have 
 been so remiss? Since Geysbert was capable of such 
 deceit and hardness, was there anything worse of which 
 he was not capable? 
 
 Not even to Ryseck did Aveline tell her disappoint- 
 ment, but the good woman's eyes served her on occa- 
 sion, and once or twice, after they had rested on 
 Aveline, they turned to follow Geysbert with a look 
 which said that the redoubtable Ryseck would not have 
 been averse to giving the young man a further taste of 
 the sharpness of her tongue. 
 
 Probity and Aveline worked together with wonderful 
 unanimity. Probity was sorry for Aveline, and now that 
 she was never called upon to watch friendly advances 
 towards her from Geysbert, she could afford to be 
 magnanimous. After that last encounter, Geysbert 
 avoided Aveline as much as possible. He was wise 
 enough to desire to let the ill feeling blow over. It hurt 
 him to quarrel with her, but he would rather quarrel 
 with her, and meet her anger, than feel her indifference. 
 He was no less in love with her than before. It seemed 
 as if his love grew faster than ever in the unpropitious 
 soil of strife. There was no generosity in the love, but 
 there was passion enough to keep Geysbert's soul hot, 
 and to drive him on determinately in the course he had 
 undertaken. 
 
 The manor house was very desolate to Aveline now 
 that madam was gone. The June sunshine, when it 
 came, could not give the place its old warm, cheery look. 
 She would gladly have turned her back on it, since it 
 held for her only sorrow. She was ready to echo 
 Ryseck's words, when one morning she met the good 
 woman on the stairs. 
 
 " What is coming to the house? " demanded Ryseck.
 
 336 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 "Surely there's nothing in it but vexation and harass- 
 ing." 
 
 Aveline smiled sadly. 
 
 " There should be satisfaction in it to you," she said, 
 " for you have at least the knowledge that you help keep 
 it straight for others." 
 
 " Straight ! Did anything ever keep straight in this 
 crooked world?" responded Ryseck. " And did trouble 
 ever fail to come where you least expected it? Who'd 
 have supposed that Philip Schredel would turn that help- 
 less or childish that he couldn't hold a pipe between 
 his lips when he was dead asleep as well as when he was 
 awake? Sure enough he must be stricken with sick- 
 ness or death, to fail in an act so simple." 
 
 " Has aught of harm resulted ? " asked Aveline, an 
 amused smile for a moment playing on her lips. 
 
 " Harm enough," responded Ryseck. " When did 
 fire ever refuse to burn? It did but burn a hole through 
 the bed-clothes as large as the bowl of his great pipe. 
 But it is not the hole which troubles me so much as the 
 mischief it portends. Surely nothing but sickness could 
 make the man thus helpless, and truly his head was that 
 heavy this morning that he could hardly hold it up. To 
 think that he could not keep the pipe between his teeth 
 in his sleep, when to my certain knowledge it's never 
 been out of his mouth day or night, except when he's 
 been eating or drinking, or otherwise specially employed, 
 since he and I were married. He's gone to sleep with 
 it there as regularly as he's gone to his bed, and the 
 smell of it, when he's woke up and lighted it in the night, 
 and fallen asleep again with it all snug between his teeth, 
 has been as natural to me as sleep itself. And now to 
 think he should drop it from his mouth in the night, and 
 never know a thing about it. It is sickness coming, of 
 a surety." 
 
 Ryseck was not far wrong. Sickness had overtaken
 
 FREE TO SERVE 337 
 
 Philip, and though he was not dangerously ill, the good 
 woman had her hands full. That the worthy Dutchman 
 was no gentle patient Ryseck's sharpened tongue testified. 
 Many duties devolved upon the two girls in consequence 
 of her attendance on her husband, and Aveline was very 
 tired when, on a certain warm June night, she sat upon 
 the piazza and thought of madam and Helmer. Where 
 Helmer was now she did not know. He had deemed it 
 unsafe to communicate with her at present. How would 
 it all end? Would he ever be cleared? What was he 
 doing to-night? 
 
 As if in answer to her thought, a childish voice from 
 out the darkness whispered in terrified tones : " Oh, 
 missy — Missy Av'line ! He's dead! " 
 
 The face of Tyte appeared, and even in the dim light 
 Aveline could see upon it the look of horror. The boy 
 sprang upon the piazza, and dropped on the floor by her 
 feet, rocking himself to and fro in his excitement. 
 
 " Mars'r Helmer ! Oh, Mars'r Helmer ! " he moaned. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Aveline authoritatively. " Are you 
 sure?" 
 
 "No, missy," said Tyte wofully, 
 
 " Tyte," said Aveline, clutching the boy's shoulder, 
 " get up and tell me what you mean," 
 
 lyte rose and faced her, pressing up against her. He 
 even laid his hand on her arm. Tyte had, for the 
 moment, forgotten all his good behaviour. 
 
 "Who told you?" asked Aveline, in a low voice. 
 
 " Nobody. I — missy — I see him." 
 
 The grasp of the boy's fingers tightened. He looked 
 fearfully over his shoulder. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " In de forest, right up under de mountain. Oh, 
 Mars'r Helmer ! Mars'r Helmer ! " 
 
 The scene he had witnessed had so manifestly taken 
 hold of the imagination of the boy, that its horror com-
 
 338 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 municated itself to Aveline. She hardly doubted Tyte's 
 assertion. It was so real to him, and the worst was 
 always happening now. 
 
 " How do you know he was dead? " she asked. 
 
 " He look dead. Mars'r Helmer never look like dat 
 when he was alive." 
 
 "Did you touch him?" 
 
 Tyte shook his head. Aveline felt the shudder that 
 went through his frame at the question. 
 
 " Missy, no. I dassent. He look so deady 
 
 "What did you do?" 
 
 " Stand jest inside de tepee for a minute, and look at 
 him, layin' all dead — and den — and den — I run, and 
 Mars'r Helmer's face run too, all de way in de gaderin' 
 dark. It look at me out of de trees, and trough de 
 bushes — dead ! " 
 
 The last word was wailed out in a tone that sent a 
 thrill through Aveline's heart. 
 
 " Was he wounded? " she asked. 
 
 " Dere no blood, missy, — noting only his dead face, 
 and him layin' stretched on de groun'." 
 
 " He has murdered him ! " 
 
 Aveline's thought had sprung to Arent Hooghland. 
 Then a more terrible possibility presented itself. Had 
 Geysbert and Helmer met, and was that dead face the 
 sole record of what had followed? She tried to throw 
 off the horror, and to obtain more definite information. 
 
 " How far were you in the forest? " she asked. 
 
 " A long way, missy. Up on de side of de moun- 
 tain." 
 
 "Were there any more tepees? " 
 
 "Tree more. Rufe and me go huntin'. He go on, 
 and I stop by de tepee," said Tyte. 
 
 " Rufe was with you," interposed Aveline. " Then 
 he saw Mr. Helmer?" 
 
 " No, missy. He go on. I go in de tepee, jest for
 
 FREE TO SERVE 339 
 
 to see inside. And den — den — Mars'r Helmer's face 
 scare me, and I run." 
 
 " How long ago was that?" asked Aveline, 
 
 " De dark come 'fore I get out of de forest," said 
 Tyte. 
 
 The boy still trembled. His eyes were rolling with 
 fear. For a minute Aveline did not speak. She was 
 thinking rapidly. Was Helmer really dead? There 
 might yet be life left. Tyte was not sure. In his 
 frightened haste he might have mistaken sleep for death. 
 Something must be done, and she must do it. There 
 was nobody else upon whom to depend. Ryseck was 
 engrossed with Philip, and if she were not, it would not 
 be safe for her to go. 
 
 " Tyte," said Aveline, " I am going to Mr. Helmer, 
 and you must go with me to show me the way." 
 
 " No, missy ! Not now," said Tyte. " Not in de 
 dark ! " 
 
 His voice rose in shrill appeal. 
 
 " What, you would leave Mr. Helmer to die — you, 
 his own boy? " 
 
 Aveline spoke reproachfully. A sob burst from Tyte's 
 lips. 
 
 " He is dead, missy, layin' dere in de tepee." 
 
 "I don't believe he is dead," said Aveline firmly. "I 
 am going to him as soon as I can get what I need to 
 take with me. I want you to carry the basket." 
 
 Tyte's hand was still on her arm. He swayed back- 
 wards and forwards in his terror. 
 
 " Missy, don't ! " he said. " Not in de dark." 
 
 Aveline looked at the boy for a moment. His fear 
 was becoming uncontrollable. She wrenched her arm 
 free, and put both her hands on his shoulders. 
 
 "Tyte," she said, " I thought you loved Mr. Helmer. 
 You do not. He is in need — dying — and you will 
 not go to help him. Go home. I do not want you.
 
 340 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 You are not Mr. Helmer's boy. You leave him to 
 die." 
 
 She released him, and went towards the door. 
 
 " Missy ! Missy Aveline ! " 
 
 " Well? " Her voice was cold. 
 
 " Dis boy will go. Dere's death spirits in dat forest 
 to-night, but Tyte is goin' to Mars'r Helmer if dey kill 
 him." 
 
 Aveline turned. There had come a quick revulsion 
 of feeling. 
 
 " Tyte, you and I will go," she said. " It is for Mr. 
 Helmer. Wait for me out beyond the buildings. I 
 shall not be long." 
 
 She went into the house. Her brain was on fire, but 
 her heart was cold, Helmer dead ! It was as likely to 
 be true as false. But true or false she would see for 
 herself. There was no one else free to go. Free ! 
 Aveline stood still just where she was. The word 
 darted through her brain like a lightning flash. It re- 
 vealed to her the situation. She was the only one of 
 the whole household who was not free. She had no legal 
 right to go to Helmer, or to stir one step beyond the 
 door of the manor house. She belonged to Geysbert, and 
 she knew what answer he would give should she ask his 
 consent to her expedition. She was in bondage, bound 
 by law to do the will of her master. And that master 
 was Geysbert. She had no right to leave his house, 
 even for an hour, without his permission — no right to 
 save Helmer's life, were it possible that it could be 
 saved. She stood stunned. Her face had grown white 
 and hard. It was the bitterest moment of her servi- 
 tude. She was bound. She was not at liberty to go to 
 Helmer. 
 
 Slowly the necessity for movement forced itself upon 
 her and she went upstairs. At the top she stopped a 
 second time. Her face softened. The deadly white-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 341 
 
 ness disappeared, and tears glistened in her eyes. Her 
 heart was beating naturally again. 
 
 " I am bound to do service for dear madam," she 
 said. " The freedom of that service is mine. I am 
 free to serve — nay, I am bound to serve. I am going 
 to Helmer — in madam's service." 
 
 Not half an hour later Aveline stood in Philip Schre- 
 del's room. 
 
 " Ryseck," she said, " I have a duty to perform for 
 madam. It may keep me away from the manor house 
 for a time, but it is such that madam herself would have 
 commanded me to do it. I go to serve her, and when 
 that service is ended I will return." 
 
 Ryseck looked at her amazed. 
 
 " You are going away now? " she asked. 
 
 " Hush ! I did not say so. But if it should be so, 
 for madam's sake you will wait for my return. You 
 can trust me, Ryseck, can't you?" 
 
 Ryseck looked at her for a minute without speaking. 
 
 "Aye," she said at last, " I can." 
 
 The girl's lip quivered, and she turned hastily away. 
 
 "Do you want aught to take with you?" asked 
 Ryseck. 
 
 " I have all I need." 
 
 She went towards the door, came back and threw her 
 arms about Ryseck's neck, and was gone. 
 
 The good woman did not follow her. Ryseck was 
 discreet. 
 
 It was not less than five miles from the manor house 
 to the spot from which Tyte had fled that afternoon. 
 
 The trail ran along the mountain side, ascending as it 
 went. It was a rough, uneven bridle-path, here and 
 there passing dangerously near to the edge of steep, 
 rocky ledges, that in the darkness seemed to dip down 
 to great depths. Tyte's fear showed itself in loud gasps, 
 as he pressed close to Aveline. She was not without
 
 342 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 fear herself. This part of the forest was very wild and 
 lonely, and savage beasts lurked in the shelter of the 
 underbrush. There was none of the hope that had been 
 in her heart when she braved the loneliness of the woods 
 before. Then she was going to communicate with Hel- 
 mer — now it was, perchance, a dead Helmer that she 
 was to meet. 
 
 "You are sure you are going right, Tyte? " she said. 
 
 " Yes, missy." 
 
 Tyte's voice shook. He was shaking from head to 
 foot. 
 
 " Look, missy ! Mars'r Helmer's face ! " 
 
 His words rose to a shriek. He pointed to an open- 
 ing in the trees. The moonlight shone through an oval 
 space, about the size of a man's head. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Aveline, " that is no face. Go on. 
 We shall soon be with Mr. Helmer, and you will then 
 have nothing to fear." 
 
 Her own heart beat irregularly, in spite of her words. 
 It was weird and gruesome here, on the edge of the 
 mountain, and at dead of night, and the errand was 
 more weird than the road. 
 
 " Dere, missy. Yonder's de tepee." 
 
 Tyte stood still. His legs refused to carry him nearer 
 to the horror he had seen in that deserted Indian habi- 
 tation. It was right before them, about thirty yards 
 away. 
 
 " Come ! " said Aveline, but Tyte drew back. When 
 she left him, however, he sprang after her. 
 
 " No, missy. Don't go widout me." 
 
 They reached the opening of the tepee together. 
 Then Tyte fell back. He had not courage to enter. 
 Aveline stepped inside. 
 
 Tyte was right. Upon the floor lay a motionless 
 figure. It was too dark to see that figure clearly, but 
 Aveline did not doubt that it was Helmer. Her trem-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 343 
 
 bling hands for a long time refused to aid her in procur- 
 ing a light. She tried again and again. Then a spark 
 fell, and the lantern was alight. Until then Aveline had 
 forced her eyes to keep away from the form extended 
 upon the floor. Now she lifted the lantern. 
 
 " Helmer ! " she cried, and was on her knees by his 
 side in a moment. 
 
 It looked like a dead face. It was no wonder Tyte 
 was afraid. Her own heart was afraid too, fearful that 
 there was no more service to render. 
 
 "Helmer! Oh, Helmer ! " she moaned. 
 
 A quiver, the slightest possible, stirred the eyelids. 
 Aveline sprang to her feet. 
 
 " He is not dead," she cried, and hastened to take 
 restoratives from the basket. 
 
 It was long before he opened his eyes. When he did 
 so, a feeble smile broke over his face. Then he roused 
 himself, but it was to utter no words of welcome. 
 
 " Go ! he said. " You have no business to be here. 
 Go ! Do not touch me." 
 
 She looked at him reproachfully. 
 
 " Helmer," she said gently, "do you not know me? 
 It is I — Aveline." 
 
 She would have taken his hand, but he drew it away. 
 The effort was almost beyond his strength. He lifted 
 his eyes to her face. They were clearer now, and his 
 tonsfue was more under his control. The restoratives 
 were taking effect. 
 
 "Dear — you must go," he said. " It is small-pox. 
 You will catch it." 
 
 " Is that all?" she asked, and her eyes smiled into 
 his. " I am not afraid. But I will keep Tyte away." 
 
 She went to the door. 
 
 " Tyte," she said, " we've saved him. He is not dead. 
 But you must not come in, or you will take the small- 
 pox. Go you into the nearest tepee. It is close, and
 
 344 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 you can hear our voices. See, I will bring the lantern 
 in, and you shall make sure that the place is empty." 
 
 When she had disposed of Tyte, she came back. 
 Helmer was trying to rise, but his strength was insuf- 
 ficient. 
 
 "You are very ill," she said. " You must lie still." 
 
 She sat on the floor by his side, and took his head in 
 her lap, her hand caressing it as it lay. 
 
 " How long have you been here? " she asked. 
 
 " I do not know. A long time, I think. The disease 
 had run its course, and I was getting better. It was at 
 no time so bad that I could not take a certain amount 
 of care of myself. But my provisions had failed, and I 
 was too weak to procure more — and — I was starving. 
 That was all." 
 
 "Helmer!" 
 
 She was on her feet in a moment, putting his head 
 tenderly back on the old bear-skin upon which he lay. 
 He was very weak, so weak that Aveline was frightened. 
 She fed him like a child, and he lay smiling at her like 
 one ; and when the early morning light crept in 
 through the doorway of the tepee, they were both sur- 
 prised to see it.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 345 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 WITH returning day Tyte's fears vanished. 
 Mars'r Helmer was alive, and he and Missy 
 Av'line and Tyte were in the forest together. 
 Tyte loved the freedom of the woods, and his capers 
 were irrepressible when he learned that he was to stay 
 to assist Missy Av'line. Tyte held his head high. 
 Mars'r Helmer might have been dead now, if he had 
 not brought Missy Av'line to the rescue. He was 
 very active, cutting off boughs to make a bed for Hel- 
 mer, and bringing in enough small game to supply his 
 own wants and Aveline's. 
 
 Aveline stoutly refused to allow him to enter the 
 tepee where Helmer lay. She would brave the disease 
 herself, but she would not allow Tyte to do so. She 
 was busy that first day preparing her camp. She ap- 
 propriated one empty tepee for storehouse and head- 
 quarters for herself, and before evening came had done 
 much to add to Helmer's comfort. He wanted her to 
 stay all day by his side. It was better than food, to 
 watch her, he declared. She shook her head. 
 
 " Happiness alone is too light a diet," she said. 
 " It must be interspersed with something more sub- 
 stantial." 
 
 He was gaining strength already. Aveline was glad 
 that her basket had been a large one, and well packed. 
 She guarded its contents jealously. Had she been a 
 little farther from the manor house, she would have felt 
 happier. She could not altogether rid herself of the fear 
 that Geysbert would institute a search for her. She knew 
 that her absence would cause no small disturbance, but 
 if she had witnessed Geysbert's anger when he learned
 
 346 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 that she was gone, her fears might have had a more 
 definite foundation. 
 
 Probity did not grow decidedly anxious about her 
 till mid-day. Then, as she did not appear, she con- 
 cluded that her supposition of a visit to some neighbour 
 was wide of the mark. 
 
 It was Geysbert who summoned Ryseck. 
 
 "Where is Miss Aveline? " he asked peremptorily. 
 
 " Just what I was going to ask you, sir," replied that 
 good woman, looking him fairly in the face. " You're 
 master here, and it's more likely to be deed of yours 
 that is keeping her from the manor house than anything 
 else." 
 
 " What do you mean by that? " demanded Geysbert, 
 turning on her fiercely. 
 
 " What I say. Ryseck Schredel never means aught 
 less." 
 
 " You had better beware, woman," shouted Geysbert. 
 " Your insolence is unbearable," 
 
 " Maybe the truth is unbearable," replied Ryseck 
 coolly. " But somebody has got to tell it. And when 
 you're about it, you may as well hear a little more. It 
 won't hurt you, I'll wager. If you'd heard it earlier 
 and oftener, you'd maybe have had a heart less hard." 
 
 " What is it you are driving at?" demanded Geys- 
 bert fiercely. " Say what you have to say and done 
 with it. Where is Aveline, and what have you to do 
 with her absence?" 
 
 " I don't know where she is, poor lass," said Ryseck, 
 " but I know where she ought to be. She ought to be 
 with that brother of hers, as free to go and come as 
 Mistress Probity here. If anybody's earned the right, 
 it's that maid. And for her to be forced, because she's 
 denied her freedom, to take things into her own hands 
 if she needs to be away a few days or weeks from the 
 manor house, says little for the son of the father and
 
 FREE TO SERVE 347 
 
 mother she nursed and cared for as if they had been 
 her own." 
 
 "Who told you she ever asked for her freedom?" 
 inquired Geysbert wrathfuUy. "Whatever conversa- 
 tion she had with me on the subject was surely private, 
 and concerned none but myself and her. What right 
 have you to know of it, far less to interfere? " 
 
 " Who told me? My own sense. I've got a little, 
 and it took but a little to read that poor maid's sorrow. 
 Truly this is the first time the story has been told in 
 words. Right glad I am you've said it in good plain 
 Dutch. It brings it home to everybody to have it put 
 into speech." 
 
 Geysbert's answer was a round Dutch oath. Pro- 
 bity's eyes grew dark with disapproval. 
 
 " Cousin Geysbert," she said, " the tongue of a good 
 man will not dip itself in evil. Verily such words are 
 a sin." 
 
 " I'm not a good man," replied Geysbert, with an 
 angry laugh. " I grant you the words were not fit for 
 your ears." 
 
 "And of the facts, cousin? Does Ryseck speak 
 truth ? " 
 
 " That I choose not to give away a possession that 
 is mine by legal right? Yes. It is truth." 
 
 He spoke defiantly. 
 
 "And what of moral right? Surely it seems to me 
 that in this case justice is against you, cousin." 
 
 "You are all against me," he said. "Yet in spite 
 of you all, I will find Aveline, aye, and bring her 
 back." 
 
 His passion was again mastering him. He turned to 
 Ryseck. 
 
 "Speak! " he cried, "Tell me all you know about 
 her, or I'll take measures that shall bring even you to 
 terms."
 
 348 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " I doubt not that your measures will be worthy of 
 you," said Ryseck. 
 
 " Ryseck," interposed Probity quietly, though the 
 colour which came and went in her face showed that 
 the calmness did but extend to externals, " it seems to 
 me that you forget both your relation to my cousin, 
 and the duty you owe your own soul. Such bitterness 
 of speech is unseemly, and in one in the position in 
 which you stand, surely a lapse of duty." 
 
 "Bitterness, say you. Mistress Probity? It is as 
 sweet as the language which called it forth. And it is 
 not more bitter than the lot of that poor child. If you 
 want to set your eyes on bitterness, look at the bitter 
 injustice of that." 
 
 " I put aside your recrimination," said Probity. 
 " Will you do me the favour to tell me all you know of 
 Aveline's movements." 
 
 " Aye, and that is quickly told. I do not know 
 whether she is in the manor house or not, for I have 
 not looked. But I know that she told me she might 
 have a duty to perform for madam, and if it should 
 keep her away for a time, she would return when it was 
 accomplished." 
 
 "When did she tell you this?" demanded Geysbert. 
 
 " Last night." 
 
 " She has gone to New York on that fool's errand, 
 the clearing of Helmer," he said. "A boat passed 
 here late in the afternoon. Ten to one she joined it at 
 Kingston." 
 
 "You will let her go?" questioned Probity. 
 
 " That will I notr 
 
 He went out, and they saw him no more that day. 
 But when he had visited Kingston at Esopus, and learned 
 that Aveline had not joined the boat there, he was at a 
 loss. He returned through the woods. There was in 
 his heart a fear that she had lost her way, and might be
 
 FREE TO SERVE 349 
 
 wandering there. The news that Tyte, too, was missing, 
 greeted him on his return. 
 
 " Then her absence is accounted for," he said. " That 
 rascal knows the forests almost as well as an Indian. It 
 would not be impossible that she should have embarked 
 below Esopus." 
 
 His mood was more savage than when he started. 
 
 "She owes it to me to return, and return she shall," 
 he said. 
 
 "What will you do, cousin?" asked Probity. 
 
 " Do ? Go after her, and bring her back." 
 
 "But you will not be harsh with her?" 
 
 His laugh, at least, was harsh. 
 
 "You are pleased to think me a brute," he said. 
 
 It was on the fourth evening after Aveline's departure 
 that Geysbert stepped from the door of the manor house. 
 His heart was on fire with bitter impatience, and the 
 quiet of the evening hour was distasteful to him. He 
 had poured out a brimming horn of rum, and tossed it 
 down his throat. It steadied his nerves. 
 
 Aveline could have aimed no heavier blow at Geysbert 
 than in thus leaving his protection. True, the law would 
 give him the right to bring her back, by force, if neces- 
 sary, and would leave her subsequent fate in his hands. 
 There was little comfort, however, in that thought. 
 Aveline's act brought out forcibly the relation between 
 them. He understood, as he had never done before, 
 how completely she belonged to his brother, and the 
 thought exasperated him. To-morrow, he had resolved, 
 he would start for New York. 
 
 " The sun is growing tired, but the white brother rests 
 not." 
 
 The face of the Indian squaw who spoke broadened 
 into a grin at sight of the young man. The visitor had 
 visions of hospitality in connection with the manor house. 
 She had timed her visit so as to turn those visions into
 
 350 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 realities. The brooms with which her back was burdened 
 were fewer in number than when she traversed the forest 
 in early morning. She had visited several white people's 
 dwellings since then, being wise enough to make the 
 manor house the last on her round. The Indian squaw 
 was well known on the Feljer estate, and her brooms, 
 made by splitting birch blocks into slender filaments, 
 were in great request. 
 
 "Ah, Karanondo," said Geysbert indifferently. " You 
 are late with your brooms." 
 
 "Yes," she replied, speaking Dutch easily, "Kara- 
 nondo is late, but she has gone far. She is not lazy, 
 like the white squaw up in the tepee." 
 
 " What white squaw? " 
 
 Geysbert was not indifferent now. 
 
 Karanondo pointed upwards, towards the mountain. 
 
 " Yonder," she said. " It takes many tepees for few 
 people. One tepee for sick white man, one for white 
 squaw, and one for black negro rascal." 
 
 Geysbert's hand was clenched, so that the nails hurt 
 the flesh. He restrained his tongue, even after the 
 squaw relapsed into silence. 
 
 "Did you pass there this morning? " he asked, and 
 he fought hard for such composure as should leave him 
 unbetrayed to the keen eyes of the squaw. 
 
 "When the sun was waking," was the answer. 
 
 "The old tepees on the edge of the mountain? " 
 
 Karanondo nodded. 
 
 "And you sold some brooms up yonder, did you? " 
 asked Geysbert, in a tone of affected indifference. 
 
 A broad grin illumined the squaw's face, 
 
 " They want no brooms in tepee," she said. " They 
 all asleep." 
 
 Geysbert laughed. 
 
 " Well, how man)' brooms have you ? " he asked.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 351 
 
 He bought the rest of her stock, and when he paid 
 her, he gave her a small present besides. 
 
 " Don't let your tongue wag further about the white 
 man in the tepee," he said significantly. " Karanondo 
 is wise." 
 
 She nodded and grunted. 
 
 " Karanondo is wise," she said, and looked at him 
 steadily. Then she turned away to deliver her brooms. 
 The manor house and a good meal were the next items 
 in the programme. 
 
 Geysbert strode to the barn. His brain was on fire. 
 Aveline was with Helmer. The thought maddened him. 
 He set his teeth together. At that moment he hated 
 his brother as he had never hated human being before. 
 
 Towards Aveline his heart was hard. She had defied 
 him, left his home, gone to Helmer. That was the 
 crowning offence. He did not stop to think. There 
 was at no one moment the slightest irresolution. He 
 was saddling for himself a horse, the fastest of them 
 all. When he was ready to mount he led it round to 
 the house, and enteririip drank another horn of rum. 
 He set the horn down, hesitated, partially filled, and 
 drained it again. Then he strode through the kitchen. 
 Ryseck was there, and he accosted her. She held a 
 pewter bottle in her hand, the same she had brandished 
 in Philip's face when she grew eloquent over Geysbert's 
 sins. 
 
 " I have cause to go up the mountain," he said. " I 
 shall not be back till late." 
 
 " As you say," replied Ryseck. 
 
 " Oh, and you may as well give me that bottle. It 
 will serve me well." 
 
 Ryseck looked at him closely. " Better have less to 
 do with bottles," she said, but she handed it to him. 
 He returned to the sideboard, and filled it with rum, 
 taking another draught himself before going out.
 
 352 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 His brain had been on fire before, and his deep drink- 
 ing had not cooled it, though it had answered the pur- 
 pose of taking away his nervousness. His hand no 
 longer shook, as it had done when he saddled his horse. 
 He sprang upon the animal's back, rode a few steps, 
 and then drew rein. An object had caught his eye. 
 It was a coil of rope lying conveniently near. He 
 stooped low and reached it, placing it on the saddle 
 before him. 
 
 " It may prove useful," he said aloud, and ended with 
 a savage laugh. 
 
 As he turned from the broad road that passed the 
 manor house, Helmer's dog Kip perceived him, and 
 came bounding towards him. Kip had been disconso- 
 late since Aveline's departure. He had sought her up 
 and down the premises, and his eyes had grown wistful 
 and sad. Either he was to-night especially lonely, or 
 he connected Geysbert's late ride with Aveline, for he 
 followed persistently. 
 
 " Go back with you ! " commanded Geysbert, but Kip 
 only dropped behind, and followed at a distance. 
 
 At first Geysbert rode fast, but as he entered the forest 
 he slackened speed, and let his horse walk. He was 
 allowing the bitterness of his anger to gather strength, 
 brooding in dangerous silence. The sun was down be- 
 fore he came to that part of the way where the path 
 narrowed along a rocky ledge, where was a dip sheer 
 into the ravine below. It was a picturesque spot, with 
 the shadows gathering about it on this June evening, but 
 it would have been a dangerous one if his horse had not 
 proved trustworthy. That passed, he put the animal to 
 a canter, and made good progress over the rough track. 
 Kip going ahead. 
 
 When the last ray of sunlight had touched the tops 
 of the trees beyond the camp, and twilight was deepen- 
 ing, Aveline left the tepee where Helmer was asleep, and 
 
 I
 
 FREE TO SERVE 353 
 
 set out to bring water from the mountain stream a few 
 yards below. She lifted her head, and drank in the soft 
 June air eagerly. It was very free and fresh up here. 
 As she stooped at the stream, something came bounding 
 towards her. 
 
 " Kip ! Dear old Kip ! " she cried. 
 
 The dog overwhelmed her with caresses. He was 
 frantic with joy. He had hunted for her so persistently, 
 and he had found her at last. 
 
 " Gently, Kip," she said, as she put him aside to look 
 down the mountain path. From where she stood she 
 could see it more than half a mile below, and in spite of 
 the gathering gloom she perceived a horseman. For 
 one moment her heart failed her. It seemed to contract, 
 as if to choke her. Then with an effort she turned, and 
 walked quickly up towards the tepee. 
 
 " Tyte," she called softly. 
 
 " Yes, missy." 
 
 "Yonder is Mr. Geysbert. Do not let him see you. 
 He will be angry, and you know what that may mean. 
 Go and hide until he is gone. And be sure not to tell 
 Mr. Helmer ; it would worry him. I am going to meet 
 Mr. Geysbert." 
 
 " Yes, missy," said Tyte, in an awe-struck tone. " He'll 
 be angry, sure." 
 
 At that moment Kip uttered a sharp whine, and started 
 for the tepee. He had made a discovery which sent his 
 longing heart into raptures of joy. But, alas ! Ave- 
 line's voice called him back. 
 
 " No, no, Kip. Not yet," she said. " He is there, 
 but you must not go in." 
 
 She put her arms about the dog's neck. If Helmer 
 saw Kip, he would guess that his brother was coming. 
 Her one object was to prevent them from meeting. 
 
 " Dear, good Kip, come ! " she said. 
 
 The dog hesitated, whined mournfully, and followed
 
 354 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 her. As soon as she was out of sight of the tepee she 
 quickened her steps to a run. She must meet Geysbert 
 as far away from the camp as possible. She was stand- 
 ing in the middle of the path when he saw her — wait- 
 ing for him. 
 
 " You are here ! " he said, and the sound came from 
 between his closed teeth. 
 
 " Yes. I am here." 
 
 She lifted her face to his. The evening light fell upon 
 it, and the beauty of it smote him. He leant forward, 
 bending towards her. 
 
 " Come back," he said, " and I will forgive you." 
 
 It was not what he had meant to say, but it was forced 
 from him. 
 
 " When my work is done, I will come," she replied 
 calmly. " I have no intention of defrauding you, Geys- 
 bert Feljer." 
 
 " You will come now," he rejoined, and the softer 
 look vanished from his face. 
 
 " That will I not." 
 
 " I demand it." 
 
 " And I refuse." 
 
 "You refuse to return with me, your — master?" 
 
 The last word was spoken doubtfully. Aveline's 
 eyes flashed, but she answered steadily and quietly. 
 
 "I refuse to return with you — my master." 
 
 "You are not free to refuse," he said, striving after a 
 calmness that should rival her own. 
 
 "I am not free — no. Yet my very bondage is here 
 my excuse. It is bondage and freedom in one I am 
 free to serve her whom I am bound to serve. I am 
 to-day in the service of madam — my mistress." 
 
 " Nay, you came to serve that outcast — that murderer 
 — Helmer Feljer." 
 
 " As you will," she said. 
 
 His calmness was vanishing.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 355 
 
 " You claim to be free," he said, "yet in the eyes of 
 the law have you no right to quit my service. Of this 
 I warn you." 
 
 " I claim to be free to serve any of madam's fam- 
 ily, and most of all the one who needs me most," she 
 said. 
 
 " Then serve me. I need you more than any other. 
 Serve me, and I swear it shall be serving Helmer too." 
 
 She understood him, and shook her head. 
 
 ** Do you know why I came? " she asked. 
 
 " To care for him,'' he said bitterly. 
 
 " Did you know he was ill? " 
 
 " Not till to-day." 
 
 " It might well have been death, instead of sickness," 
 she said, " it came so near." 
 
 " A pity it were not," he replied. 
 
 She looked at him, startled. Then her face hardened. 
 
 "You think so?" she said. "Then we are little 
 likely to agree. " 
 
 " No, we are little likely to agree," he replied, and his 
 eyes flashed dangerously. " But we are likely to bring 
 this contest to an end. If you will not come of your 
 own free will, you must come without it." 
 
 He sprang from his horse as he spoke, and before 
 she had divined his intent, he swooped down upon her, 
 lifted her as if she had been a baby, and tossed her up 
 on the back of his horse. The movement took her by 
 surprise, yet she was too quick for him. As his hold 
 relaxed, she gave a sudden jerk, and slid down on the 
 other side. Then she turned and confronted him. 
 
 " Coward ! " she said, " to lay hands on a woman. 
 It is well your father is in his grave. He has at least 
 been spared the pain of such disgrace." 
 
 He felt the scorn in her voice, and it stung him. He 
 stood glowering at her. Then his passion burst out 
 afresh.
 
 356 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 '• You talk of disgrace," he said. " You / And that 
 after running from your duty to seek the company of a 
 homeless wanderer, a murderer, curse him ! " 
 
 " Your curse will return on your own head," said 
 Aveline hotly. " And as for the title you give your 
 brother, you come nearer meriting it yourself, with 
 your raging passion, than ever he has done." 
 
 She stood looking into his face, her own alight with 
 indignation and scorn. It would not be true to say that 
 she felt no fear for her personal safety. It was evident 
 that Geysbert had been drinking, and she divined the 
 object of his drinking. In such condition Geysbert 
 Feljer was not a pleasant companion, nor a safe one. 
 Yet at that moment scorn was stronger than fear. It 
 was the reality of the contempt that gave it force, 
 and sent it home to the drink-numbed brain of the 
 young man. It aroused him to wilder jealousy. 
 
 He 7nust make an impression on this girl who defied 
 alike his love and his anger. He would make that 
 impression, let the consequences be what they might. 
 She should feel his power, though she scorned his affec- 
 tion. To do him justice, he hardly knew what he said. 
 He was beside himself with rage and jealousy. He 
 turned upon her. 
 
 " Get you upon that horse," he cried, " and return to 
 your duty. I will have no bond-servant of mine attend- 
 ing upon a murderer and a beggar. As for him — he 
 shall get his deserts." 
 
 " When deserts are dealt out, it is you who will need 
 to fear," said Aveline. "As for returning with you, I 
 tell you plainly I will not." 
 
 " And I say you shall." 
 
 He advanced, as if to lift her a second time in his 
 arms, but she evaded him, and stood a short distance 
 off, facing him again. 
 
 " Go your way, and sleep off the effects of the drink
 
 FREE TO SERVE 357 
 
 you have taken, and then, if there be any manhood left 
 in you, you will think better of this," she said imperi- 
 ously. " As for me, I shall do my duty as your mother 
 herself would have bidden me. Your brother's life 
 depends on the care he receives." 
 
 She turned from him, and took a step in the direc- 
 tion of the tepee. That step was a mistake. The 
 moment her back was turned, her influence over 
 Geysbert was lessened. She heard him following, and 
 before she could look round she felt his arm about her 
 waist. 
 
 " There shall be an end of this," he said. " I will let 
 you know who is master." 
 
 " Do your worst, Geysbert Feljer," she said, turning 
 again. " I will never ride behind you." 
 
 " Nay, jade, that you shall not. I swear it. You 
 shall take the place that belongs to you, and run behind 
 your master." 
 
 Rage and jealousy and drink combined, had done 
 their work. Geysbert had lost all control of himself. 
 He seized the rope which lay upon the saddle, and 
 with blind fury flung a noose over her head, drawing it 
 tight about her waist. Then, still holding her hands, 
 which he had grasped when she turned towards him, he 
 took a shorter and thinner rope from his pocket and 
 twisted it about her wrists, binding them close together, 
 regardless of how the rope cut into the soft flesh. 
 
 "There, slave, now learn to obey your master," he 
 hissed in her ear, and mounting his horse, while still 
 holding the end of the longer rope, he dug his heels 
 into the animal's sides. 
 
 The pretty creature bounded into the air, and then 
 started at a rapid pace. For a moment the rope hung 
 loosely, then it tightened, and Aveline was dragged to 
 the ground. She repressed the cry which rose to her 
 lips. Even now her first thought was of Helmer. He
 
 358 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 must know nothing of this. For him to witness such a 
 scene would mean death to one of the brothers. 
 
 Kip was less thoughtful. He uttered a short angry- 
 snarl, and sprang towards Aveline, biting and tugging 
 at the tightened rope which dragged her mercilessly 
 along the path, fortunately here grassy and soft. Ave- 
 line struggled to regain her feet, but the horse was 
 going too fast. Kip gave vent to a sharp yelp of fear. 
 That cry aroused Geysbert to a sense of danger. Even 
 in his drunken fury he had no desire to kill Aveline. 
 Mad jealousy had urged him to show his power, but 
 now, in the moment of victory, he had just sense 
 enough left to prompt him to a measure of modera- 
 tion. He reined in his horse and brought it to a walk. 
 Then he looked back. The sight of that heap on the 
 path gave him a feeling of savage pleasure. This was 
 his revenge. It was sweet to his wounded pride. Ave- 
 line would never dare to disobey him again. It would 
 be a salutary lesson. As he looked he saw a move- 
 ment in that dragging object. By a great effort the 
 girl sprang to her feet. The moon, which had risen, 
 shone on her white face. The sight of it frightened 
 him. He must have something to keep up his cour- 
 age. He had set out to subdue this girl, to establish 
 his authority over her, and these fears, which assailed 
 him unbidden, must be thrust away. He raised Ry- 
 seck's bottle to his lips, and took a long, deep draught. 
 Then, as the warmth ran through his veins, he looked 
 back again. 
 
 "Now do you know who is your master, wench? " 
 he asked. 
 
 There was no answer, except a low growl from Kip. 
 The dog was racing round Aveline in vain attempts to 
 free her from the rope. Geysbert laughed sardonically. 
 
 " What? You are not subdued yet?" he said. 
 
 He shook the reins on his horse's neck. The obedi-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 359 
 
 ent animal started into a canter, and he turned his at- 
 tention to the path before him, 
 
 Aveline exerted all her strength to keep up with the 
 horse. The pace was not as fast as before, but she 
 knew the race could not last long. The path had be- 
 come rocky and uneven. To be dragged upon it would 
 mean death. She was bruised and shaken already, 
 though not seriously hurt. But now the track grew 
 more rugged at every turn. One misstep, and not her 
 own life alone, but possibly Helmer's also, would be 
 the price. Her brain worked fast. There was a dark 
 piece of road ahead, a terrible piece of road. She re- 
 membered it well. Rough rocks cropped up in the 
 way, and overhanging trees made it dark and gloomy, 
 so that the feet might well stumble. There were tree 
 trunks, too, overturned and rotting, encroaching on the 
 narrow path, and farther on the road became a mere 
 shelf on the edge of the ledge. Below the shelf the 
 rock dipped sheer down for seventy feet and more. 
 Terror of that spot was upon her. She dropped her 
 hands down before her. Then a thought came. In 
 the pocket of her apron was a knive, one that had been 
 Helmer's gift. Her finger-tips could almost touch it. 
 She bent forward as she ran, and succeeded in getting 
 it between her fingers. To lift it to her mouth, and 
 then hold it in her teeth and saw through the rope 
 which bound her wrists, was a work requiring time and 
 caution. Luckily, Geysbert was riding more slowly 
 now, and at last the work was done, but not before one 
 wrist was badly gashed and bleeding. Then she slowly 
 loosened the noose which held her, and slipped it over 
 her head. She was free, but she was not safe. Geys- 
 bert would feel the sudden loss of weight, should she 
 relax her hold on the rope. She held it firmly, pulling 
 upon it that he might not perceive that she was no 
 longer a prisoner.
 
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 Presently she raised her head, and her eye fell on a 
 patch of light some distance ahead. The light revealed 
 a short log, lying so near to the middle of the path that 
 it seemed not impossible to touch it as she passed. The 
 sight of it gave her an inspiration. Could she reach 
 that log, and have time to slip the rope around it? 
 If so, it might be made to take her place. She put forth 
 all her strength to gain on the horse. Two or three 
 moments would suffice. The exertion caused the veins 
 to stand out on her forehead. It seemed to her that 
 she was not even holding her own. But bit by bit she 
 gained. The rope was slack. She was almost oppo- 
 site the log. With a final effort she darted to one side, 
 slipped the noose over the end, and pushed it under 
 the log until her fingers were crushed and bleeding. 
 There was a quick jerk, a hitch, and then the log moved 
 off with a thump. Aveline dropped down into a clump 
 of bushes. Kip stopped too. 
 
 " No, no, Kip ! Good, unselfish Kip, you must go," 
 said Aveline, in a low, pleading tone. " He will see 
 you, and think that all is as before. Go ! Oh, go ! " 
 
 She put her hand on his head, and pointed after the 
 retreating horse. Kip understood. He looked wist- 
 fully in her face, put his big tongue to it, and raced 
 after the horseman. 
 
 The road grew dark with the shadow of the trees. 
 Geysbert found it necessary to ride cautiously. The 
 rum was taking effect. His brain became momentarily 
 cloudier, but as it did so, his desire for revenge in- 
 creased. 
 
 " You'll defy me, will you — and for him? " he mut- 
 tered. " Aye, for him ! It'll take a lesson to teach 
 you — but I'll do it. Get up there! Show the stuff 
 you're made of." 
 
 He twisted the rope into the harness, and gave the 
 horse a sharp cut with his whip, at the same moment
 
 FREE TO SERVE 361 
 
 glancing over his shoulder at the dark body upon the 
 road in the shadow behind. The horse started, stepped 
 upon a loose stone, swerved, and the next moment 
 there was a sharp human-sounding cry, and the creat- 
 ure was pulled back upon its haunches. The rider 
 looked round to see the rope tightened to its utmost 
 tension, and hanging over into the ravine. The horse 
 struggled and tried to move forward, and the rope, that 
 was stretched over a sharp, jagged edge of rock, swayed 
 and strained. 
 
 " Ho ! Stand still there! " 
 
 A pang of fear shot through Geysbert's heart. 
 Aveline? Where was she? He looked in horror at 
 the tightened rope. She was hanging at the other end 
 of it, dangling over the precipice. His face was dis- 
 torted with fear, and great drops stood out on his fore- 
 head. He hastily dismounted, but agitation, and the 
 effects of his potations, made him stagger. He put his 
 hand on the horse's neck to steady himself. The ex- 
 cited creature, thinking he meant to incite her to fresh 
 efforts, sprang forward again. The rope strained and 
 creaked, the sharp edges of the rock cutting into it 
 more deeply. Geysbert was thrown to the ground. 
 
 " Ho, you brute ! Stand still, I tell you ! " 
 
 The horse obeyed. Geysbert regained his feet, and 
 staggered to the edge of the cliff. What he saw there 
 took away the last vestige of self-control. A single 
 strand of rope was left. The rest was cut through. 
 While he was looking at it, horror overpowering him, it 
 parted, drawing itself out for an instant. Then there was 
 a dull thud, and the crashing sound of a heavy object 
 breaking its way down into the ravine. He stood star- 
 ing into the dark abyss, dazed, helpless. The dog was 
 gone. After that one fearful cry there had come no 
 other from below. 
 
 "Aveline! "
 
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 The voice was hoarse. Geysbert bent over the preci- 
 pice. Then he drew back hastily. An uncontrollable 
 terror was cutting its way into the dazed brain. Aveline 
 was dead, and he had killed her. He stood listening, 
 but there came no answer. In a frenzy of fear he fled 
 towards his horse, putting his hand on the warm flesh. 
 In doing so, he touched the pewter bottle, not yet 
 drained. With a low cry he clutched it, though his 
 trembling hand almost refused to raise it to his lips. 
 When he took his lips from the bottle, it was empty. 
 Once again, in the strength of that draught, he went to 
 the edge of the ravine, flinging himself on the ground, 
 and peering over. 
 
 " Aveline ! Aveline ! " he called, but the silence 
 mocked him. He turned back and mounted his horse. 
 The wise animal did the rest. When she stopped before 
 the door of the barn, her master lay a helpless weight on 
 her neck, clutching her mane in his stifl"ened hand. A 
 rope dragged at her heels — a rope stained with blood. 
 
 The manor house was asleep, even to the negro whose 
 duty it was to stay up to attend to Geysbert's horse. 
 But he was asleep in the barn, and the door was open. 
 The sagacious animal stepped inside, and stopped by 
 the stall she claimed as her own. Then she waited for 
 her master to dismount. More than once, in the hours 
 that followed, she impatiently pawed the ground. She 
 deemed that her resting time was being encroached upon. 
 At last she gave a low whinny of appeal, shaking her 
 neck impatiently. The shake and the whinny both had 
 effect, the first in dislodging the sleeping man, the 
 second in reaching Probity's ears. The girl stepped 
 into the barn just as Geysbert, half-roused, slipped 
 heavily to the floor. Probity had been anxious and 
 restless that night. She had tried to sleep, and failed. 
 Geysbert's absence worried her. Hours ago she thought 
 she heard the step of a horse, but all had been silent
 
 FREE TO SERVE 363 
 
 since, and Geysbert had not come in. Now the first 
 faint streak of light was in the sky. She could keep 
 quiet no longer. She rose, and stole softly out. As 
 she reached the barn she heard the whinny of the horse, 
 and was in time to see Geysbert collapse, a helpless heap, 
 on the floor. 
 
 " Geysbert ! Cousin Geysbert ! " 
 
 He looked up in stupid surprise. Above them, in the 
 hay, the negro snored loudly. 
 
 " Where have you been, cousin," asked Probity 
 gently, "and why are you so late?" 
 
 "Late?" He looked at her again. His hand slowly 
 travelled to his head. 
 
 " She is dead ! " he said. " I've done for her." 
 
 "Whom? What do you mean?" 
 
 Probity's eyes grew deep with horror. Was her 
 cousin simply raving, or had there indeed been a trag- 
 edy enacted in the darkness ? 
 
 The horse, freed from its burden, was impatient to 
 enter the stall, before which Probity stood. Feeling that 
 strong measures were necessary, it gently rubbed its head 
 against her shoulder. She turned, stepped aside, and 
 saw the rope. The next thing Probity did was to light 
 a lantern, and examine that rope. It was yet wet, and 
 when she touched it she drew back her hands with a sup- 
 pressed cry. They were red with blood. 
 
 " Geysbert, dear Geysbert, what does it mean? " 
 
 She turned to her cousin again, but he was fast asleep. 
 She shook him, and called to him, but to no purpose. 
 Then she returned to the horse. The trailing rope, jag- 
 ged and ragged at the end, fascinated and horrified her. 
 She felt as if she could not touch it. But when there 
 came a sound from above, as if the negro were waking, 
 she hastily approached it again. Quickly, and with 
 skilful hands, she removed the saddle from the horse, 
 and unfastened the rope. As she lifted the saddle, a bit
 
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 of woollen rag caught her eye. She took it in her hand 
 It was a scrap of a woman's dress. For many minutes 
 after that Probity stood as if stunned. Her hand closed 
 about the scrap of woollen cloth, and her heart grew 
 cold. At last she turned, put away the saddle, and 
 carefully gathered up the rope. The dawn had not yet 
 broken. Probity gave one long look at her cousin as 
 she passed. Then she left the barn. It was half an hour 
 later when she entered the manor house, and before she 
 did so, a ragged length of rope sank into the waters of 
 the Hudson, far out in the middle of the channel.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 36; 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 AT precisely the usual hour Probity sat down to 
 breakfast — alone. 
 " Better not wait for Mr. Geysbert. He's tak- 
 ing his night's rest in the barn — in the morning," said 
 Ryseck drily. So much she had learned from the 
 negroes. 
 
 " No. I was not thinking of waiting." 
 
 Probity put a few finishing touches to the table, and 
 sat down. She even forced herself to eat. Unre- 
 strained emotion was in Probity's eyes a sign of the 
 lack of that self-discipline which was part, and a large 
 part, of the duty of man. The food did not choke 
 her. But when she lifted the cup to her lips, she set it 
 back again hastily. There was a weight resting on her, 
 and pressing her down — the weight of a terrible 
 tragedy, and of a sin. The sin was her own. The 
 memory of that rope, washed clean by the water of the 
 river, was heavy on her conscience. Justice was crying 
 aloud, upbraiding her with having sought to cover a 
 crime. And she pleaded guilty. Love for her cousin, 
 the desire to shield him from the consequences of an 
 act which she did not understand, but of which she 
 suspected the worst, had quickened her steps, and 
 nerved the arm that had consigned the criminating rope 
 to a safe burial. Now, when the deed was done, she 
 quailed before the sharp thrusts of conscience. 
 
 " To allow natural affection to defraud justice, and 
 turn away from the evil-doer the rightful punishment of 
 his crime, is to be partaker of his deed, and to commit 
 heinous sin," said that well-trained mentor. 
 
 Probity did not deny the conclusion. She was not
 
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 inclined to turn away the punishment of her own sin. 
 She looked the sin in the face, and acknowledged it. 
 It was hers — Probity Thaxter's. Her integrity had 
 failed. Love for her cousin Geysbert had been weighed 
 together with the principle of a life, and by the side of 
 love, principle had been light. Probity had ever loved 
 justice, but there had come a time when she loved her 
 cousin better. She stood up before herself a con- 
 demned sinner. And yet, in spite of the condemnation, 
 she was not sorry that the rope could tell no tales. If 
 at that moment Probity had again stood by Geysbert's 
 horse, and fixed her horrified eyes on the damp frayed 
 evidence of a violent deed, that evidence would have 
 been left to do its work of crimination. Probity would 
 have entered the manor house and left it where it hung 
 — a proof of her cousin's guilt. So far the convictions 
 of her soul had reasserted their sway. But she had not 
 reached the point at which she desired to stand again at 
 the parting of the ways, and have a chance to keep her 
 feet in the path of rectitude. She was humiliated and 
 sorrowful over her own failure, oppressed with a sense 
 of guilt, and yet — at heart — relieved that the rope was 
 hidden. 
 
 She went about her duties abstractedly, in the con- 
 stant presence of an accusing conscience and a great 
 dread. She did not seek Geysbert. She knew that 
 until he had slept off the effects of his last night's drink- 
 ing, he would be in no fit state to explain. She watched 
 for him anxiously. When he came she would be faith- 
 ful, all the more faithful that she had already proved 
 her own weakness. But when it drew on towards noon, 
 and he did not appear, Probity turned her steps toward 
 the barn. 
 
 " Mars' r Geysbert? No, missy. He went away to 
 the forest as soon as he was awake." 
 
 " How long was that ago? " she asked.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 367 
 
 " Not long, missy. No. Not many minutes." 
 'k Gone to the forest, to look on the scene of his crime. 
 Probity walked slowly away, but when she was out of 
 sight of the negro, she quickened her pace. And she 
 too turned in the direction of the forest. 
 
 There was a dark cloud between the sun and the 
 ravine when Geysbert left the mountain path, and 
 scrambled down below the ledge, at a spot where the 
 rock was less precipitous than immediately beyond. The 
 blackness of that cloud was in accordance with the feel- 
 ing of Geysbert's heart. His mind was hardly yet clear, 
 but memory had come back enough to torture him. His 
 first thought, when his half-stupefied brain so far took 
 in the surroundings as to tell him that he had not slept 
 in his bed at the manor house, was of that terrified cry 
 out on the mountain road the night before. He sat up, 
 and with labour struggled to his feet. That cry? What 
 had it meant? Where was Aveline? Dead, down there 
 in the ravine? Great drops broke out on his forehead. 
 He brushed them away with his hand. What had he done 
 in his drunken passion? How far had he gone? Was 
 this thing a nightmare, born of his too free association 
 with Ryseck's pewter bottle? He shook his head. Then 
 a thought came to him. He went to the stall where his 
 horse stood. The affectionate animal whinnied, but his 
 hand offered her no caress. He was looking for a 
 rope, a frayed rope. It was not there. His hand went 
 up to his head. Who had unsaddled his horse? He 
 asked the question of the negro who had peacefully 
 passed his night in the hay overhead. 
 
 " Nobody but yourself, mars'r," replied the man 
 boldly. "And you tell me to go to bed, and T go." 
 
 Geysbert examined the saddle. It was in its proper 
 place, and it bore no mark of anything unusual. There 
 was no rope there, to all appearance never had been. 
 Was it indeed a dream?
 
 368 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 The dull, stupefied brain gradually cleared, and 
 memory brought back, bit by bit, in a dim, unreal 
 fashion, the doings of the night before. And then, 
 under the influence of a deadly terror, Geysbert started 
 for the mountain path. What had he done? He did 
 not know. He was not sure. Aveline might be yet 
 alive — down there in the ravine. 
 
 The recklessness with which he crashed through 
 underbrush and scattered rocks might have cost him 
 more than the scratches and bruises of which he was 
 hardly aware. He was bent on getting to the bottom, 
 and he cared little about the consequences. Once there, 
 he pushed his way along until he stood under the steep- 
 est point of the mountain path, and looked up to the 
 sharp, jagged rock where last night — if his brain were 
 not playing him false — a tightened rope had held by 
 one strand. He stood staring at that ledge. Then he 
 began to climb. Just above him was a rock shelf, 
 broken in places, and crumbling. Its position was such 
 that it might well have arrested the fall of a heavy 
 object from above. His heart stood still as he neared 
 it, and looked beyond it to where, overhead, the heavy 
 rocks frowned beneath the shadow of the thick storm 
 cloud. When he balanced himself on a heap of broken 
 stone, and brought himself to a level with that lower 
 rock shelf, a sharp cry escaped his lips. 
 
 " Blood ! Hers ! And it is wet ! " 
 
 The words were low — very low. His fingers touched 
 the stained rock. Great clots of blood were lying upon 
 it. Geysbert shuddered, swayed, and lost his footing, 
 slipping down to where a girl stood looking up at him. 
 
 " Are you hurt, cousin? " 
 
 "What? You here? " 
 
 "Yes. I saw you ahead of me, and I followed." 
 
 Probity's voice was very clear and quiet. Her eyes 
 were searching Geysbert's face.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 369 
 
 " The mischief you did ! " 
 
 " The mischief Hes not there, cousin." 
 
 Probity spoke solemnly. 
 
 " What do you mean? What do you know of mis- 
 chief ? " 
 
 "Not as much as you can tell me, truly, but enough 
 to destroy my peace, and to show me that the house of 
 Feljer has indeed fallen, since on my cousin's soul lies 
 a sin at thought of which my own heart recoils." 
 
 *' You speak foolishness," said Geysbert. " My brain 
 is not clear enough for riddle-guessing. Tell me plainly 
 of what you speak, and I may perchance understand 
 you." 
 
 "Where is Aveline? " asked Probity suddenly. 
 
 Geysbert started and recoiled, his lips moving invol- 
 untarily. 
 
 " You ask me more than I can answer," he said, after 
 a perceptible pause. 
 
 " And yet you met her last night." 
 
 "You have no proof of that." 
 
 He spoke fiercely. Probity's eyes were fixed on his 
 face. 
 
 " What is there on that ledge? " she asked. 
 
 Again he faltered. He drew himself together with a 
 manifest effort. 
 
 "Dirt and rubbish principally," he said, with an un- 
 natural laugh. 
 
 Before he had finished speaking. Probity had sprung 
 lightly up the rock-strewn slope. 
 
 " I would see for myself," she said. 
 
 " Come back ! You'll break your neck." 
 
 " I will return when I have inspected the ledge," said 
 Probity calmly and emphatically. 
 
 " You will return now. Truly your interference is 
 unbearable." 
 
 He was at her side, but not before she had, for a
 
 370 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 i 
 single moment, raised her head above the level of the 
 
 shelf. She allowed Geysbert to lead her down. 
 
 " Whence came that blood, cousin? " 
 
 " Blood? Who says it is blood? " : 
 
 "Is it not?" ,: 
 
 " You are enough to drive a man wild with your 
 questions," he said. 
 
 " Cousin, where is Aveline, and why did you return 
 last night with a rope tied to your horse's saddle — a 
 rope blood-stained and frayed? Aye, and why did you 
 tell me you had done for her, and she was dead? Did 
 you allude to her — to Aveline? " 
 
 " I was drunk," he said, and broke away from her 
 with a groan. He went crashing through the bushes in 
 wild haste, anywhere, away from the blood-stained rock 
 and Probity's accusing voice. 
 
 And before he had gone out of hearing the storm 
 broke, a summer shower, heavy and wild. It beat down 
 on Probity's unprotected head, and on the rock shelf 
 where the blood — poor Kip's blood, shed for his master 
 — lay hardening in the hot air. When the storm had 
 passed, the rock was clean again, and if, as might well 
 be the case, the hungry wolf that had torn the heart of 
 the faithful dog — that loving heart which had bidden 
 him obey the girl his master had commanded him to 
 serve — if that wolf returned later to lick up the last 
 remnants of the feast, he found only the hard, dry stone. 
 
 The log, which in falling over the edge of the rock 
 had hurled the dog from the path, and with one blow 
 battered out his life, lay far below in a hollow of the 
 ravine, covered by bushes, and unnoticed. Probity 
 knew nothing of it. She stood in the rain, the heavy 
 drops coming down upon her — stood with bowed head. 
 
 " Forgive ! Forgive him — and me." 
 
 Her lips were moving, but the words were only a mur- 
 mur. Between Probity's soul and peace was the memory
 
 FREE TO SERVE 371 
 
 of that hidden rope. Yes, and of the blood-stained 
 rock. The witness of both was confirmed by her 
 cousin's behaviour. Probity had Httle doubt that Ave- 
 line was dead — slain by Geysbert's hand. And yet, 
 at. that moment, her thought was not with the victim, 
 but with the slayer. She recognized the fact with 
 shame and fear. 
 
 The storm had passed, and the sun shone out. Prob- 
 ity lifted her head. The water ran in streams from the 
 rocks. They were slippery beneath her feet, but she 
 slowly climbed again to the spot from which Geysbert 
 had hurried her. She drew a long breath as she reached 
 it. It was clean. But her soul and Geysbert's were 
 stained.
 
 372 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 " "I" T AS the world gone sheer crazy?" cried Ryseck 
 
 I 1 Schredel. " Mistress Probity, where have you 
 
 JL JLbeen, and in such a storm too? Drenched to 
 the skin you are, I'll answer for it. 
 
 " I have shaken my clothes, and they have dried 
 somewhat. I think they will now leave no marks, 
 Ryseck," said Probity quietly. " Yes, truly I was wet, 
 for the storm was heavy." 
 
 She passed Ryseck, and went upstairs. Then method- 
 ically she removed each article of wet clothing. She 
 was not thinking of the clothes. She was filled with the 
 consciousness that the knowledge of her cousin's crime 
 rested between himself and her. The very rain of 
 heaven had come to the rescue, and washed away the 
 evidence of the deed. It was but necessary to keep 
 silence, and Geysbert would be safe. 
 
 " It rests between him and me," she said slowly, 
 " aye, and it rests on him and me, and there it will rest 
 for all eternity, unless it be confessed, and the just pun- 
 ishment borne." 
 
 She made no attempt to put the conviction from her. 
 She had too long accustomed herself to face her own 
 heart to turn coward now. 
 
 " I have sorely sinned, yes, and am still sinning," she 
 admitted, " for not yet can I crush this unholy affection, 
 and obey the voice of my conscience. If he were of us, 
 of the household of the just, and had thus failed, he 
 would know that no scourging could be too grievous if 
 it might bring him back to the path of right. Better 
 die as a — murderer," she forced her tongue to say the 
 word aloud, " than destroy the soul by a hidden crime.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 373 
 
 But he is not of us," she continued. " His hope is 
 in this world, and if it be taken from him, — and by my 
 hand, — what has he left? " 
 
 All day she went about the house, keeping her hands 
 employed, while her ears listened for Geysbert's step. 
 And through the hours the strong protest of her con- 
 science went on. Love and duty were struggling 
 together, and every moment love grew despairingly 
 stronger. It refused to yield, even to the mandate of 
 a trained and hitherto all-conquering conscience. 
 
 To Probity the thought of covering a sin, of deliber- 
 ately defrauding justice, and allowing the sinner to live 
 as though he had not sinned, was a grievous offence. 
 Geysbert had fallen, and justice required that he should 
 suffer the legal penalty of his crime. And right re- 
 quired of her that she should not shield him, nay, 
 under the circumstances, that she should denounce him. 
 Had there been another who was in a position to do it, 
 it might have been that the terrible necessity would not 
 have rested upon her. But now, in the face of her own 
 act, which had made it impossible that any other should 
 accuse him, it was her duty to do so. She had arrived 
 at the point where she acknowledged the duty. 
 
 '' It ought to be done. It is required of me, Probity 
 Thaxter, to do it," she said. " But I am not prepared to 
 obey. I am saying no to my God and to my con- 
 science, and — I can say no other." 
 
 Her head drooped in shame and sorrow. Her love 
 was too strong for her convictions. 
 
 It was very late that night when Geysbert returned. 
 The house was still. He thought that all were sleeping, 
 but Probity was not asleep. She came out of the large 
 room which always seemed to him full of his mother's 
 presence. To-night the thought of his mother was but 
 an added torment.
 
 374 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " Dear Geysbert, you are late, and you must be faint 
 — and suffering." 
 
 She came up to him, and laid her hand on his arm. 
 The light of the candle she carried showed the sym- 
 pathy in her face. 
 
 " You know nothing of suffering. You are a saint," 
 he said. 
 
 He pushed past her up the stairs, and she heard him 
 fasten the door of his room. There were tears in her 
 eyes as she followed slowly. Her words had brought 
 him no comfort. She ought not to have expected it. 
 She entered her room, and knelt. She was trying to 
 pray — for herself and him, but she could not. Between 
 her and comfort, as between her and hope of succour, 
 was a sin, hers and his. She might not comfort him. 
 She had no right. She was partaker of his sin. And 
 she could not pray for him, for, to her, prayer seemed 
 a mockery. What answer could she expect? Surely 
 not one of peace. That would be to lower the throne 
 of justice, to make the eternal decrees as weak as human 
 hearts. To Probity, right, and justice, and eternal 
 good, and peace, and succour, were on one side, and 
 on the other, herself and Geysbert. Between lay the 
 martyrdom embodied in that act which she felt was 
 required of her, the giving up of Geysbert into the 
 hands of the law, and the witnessing of his death as a 
 murderer. 
 
 It was no wonder she did not sleep. Sleep was as 
 far from her eyes, and rest from her soul, as they were 
 from the eyes and the soul of her cousin. His brain 
 had thrown off the numbness engendered by the drink, 
 and set itself free to think. He had no clear recollec- 
 tion of the scenes of the previous night. But there was 
 a confused memory of harsh words and a cruel purpose 
 towards the girl whom now, in his bitter remorse, he 
 loved more passionately than ever. Her face, as he
 
 FREE TO SERVE 375 
 
 saw it when he looked back, and the moonhght fell 
 upon it, was before him still. That, and the cry which 
 had awakened him from his drunken barbarity, were 
 the two clear points in the midst of indistinct memory. 
 He had been hurrying away from these two all day, and 
 had never outdistanced them. Now they waited for 
 him, his companions for the night. He had nothing to 
 do but hold fellowship with them. 
 
 He could not get up a counter irritation against his 
 brother. That feeling had died out, passed out of 
 sight in the overwhelming horror that possessed him. 
 He had called Helmer a murderer, and as such his 
 anger had been hot against him. But his worst con- 
 ception of his brother's deed could not approach in 
 cruelty that of which he was guilty. And it was certain 
 that he was guilty. There was a doubt about Helmer. 
 
 He had suddenly grown lenient. The term murderer 
 did not burst forth as bitterly from his lips. He knew 
 how it felt to be a murderer. And it never occurred 
 to him to talk of the injustice of the murderer going 
 free. He realized that the words were an absurdity. 
 He could not go free. The murder had hold of him. 
 
 After he broke away from Probity that morning, 
 Geysbert at first fled recklessly, not caring whither he 
 went. But presently his feet began to pick their way. 
 He worked upward and outward, and came on the edge 
 of the mountain. Then he began to descend. He was 
 making for the Indian tepees. Not with the view of 
 doing injury to Helmer. That had faded from his 
 mind. It was rather an indistinct idea, a vague notion 
 of expiation, that led him there. Aveline had said 
 something about her presence being necessary to Hel- 
 mer's recovery. If that were so, he might at least 
 carry on her work, save the life she had risked her own 
 to succour. It was not love for his brother that turned 
 his feet towards the tepees, but a remorseful desire to
 
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 prevent Aveline's work from bciiii;- in vain. In this 
 attempt also there was an utter absence of comfort. 
 The Indian tepees were deserted. There was not a 
 sound to be heard in the camp. 
 
 " I might have known better. The boy Tyte was 
 with him. Doubtless he has removed him farther into 
 the forest, for fear of me," he said bitterly. " His life 
 may pay for the move, if he be indeed as ill as she 
 said. 
 
 For a long time he stood by the camp, then he went 
 slowly over the ground he had traversed in the moon- 
 light. The rain had obliterated every trace of a strug- 
 gle. Again he searched the ravine. She might be there 
 yet, though the blood upon the rock pointed to the work 
 of some wild beast. He searched diligently for trace 
 of her, and found none. It was not until after dark- 
 ness had descended that he left the ravine, and, hardly 
 knowing what he did, turned homeward. Except when 
 Probity's questions had startled him for the moment into 
 a consciousness of danger, he had no thought of his 
 own position. When the accusing voice ceased, the 
 consciousness was obliterated by the more pressing hor- 
 ror of remorse. His thought was all of Aveline. When, 
 therefore, as he opened his door in the early morning, 
 he saw Probity awaiting him, he was not at first as 
 profoundly impressed by her words as she had antici- 
 pated. 
 
 " Cousin," she said, " I have this night striven against 
 my God. Truly for man thus to strive is vain. I am 
 vanquished. Yet am I still a rebel. I yield, not to the 
 force of truth, but to the pressure of alarm lest my con- 
 tumacy should cost my cousin his soul. A rebel still, I 
 obey the right." 
 
 Her voice was low. It thrilled with emotion. Its 
 tone arrested Geysbert's wandering attention. 
 
 "What do you mean?" he said. "You had better
 
 FREE TO SERVE 377 
 
 leave me and my sins alone. They are too black for 
 you " 
 
 " Geysbert," she said, and her face, as she drew nearer 
 to him, was so white that it forced him to put aside for 
 the moment his own dark thoughts, " it is more than 
 plucking out the right eye that is required of me. To 
 deliver up myself were a small matter. Against the 
 delivering of my cousin to justice — and death — I have 
 fought, yes, impiously fought. Now I go to accomplish 
 it." 
 
 He looked at her for a moment, bewildered. 
 
 " You will betray me? " he said, and there was more 
 surprise than fear in his tone. 
 
 " Aye, I must." 
 
 It was almost a wail. 
 
 " As you please,'' he replied. " I think I care little. 
 I warn you, however, that I shall not criminate myself. 
 I have not your scruples to contend with." 
 
 The depth of sorrow in her eyes touched him, even 
 then. He put both hands on her shoulders. 
 
 " It costs almost as much to be a saint as to be a 
 sinner," he said. " Do your worst — or your best, for 
 so I suppose it seems to you. I will face it." 
 
 To her surprise his lips touched her forehead. 
 Directly after, he gently put her aside, and went down 
 the stairs. 
 
 Probity returned to her room, and stood by the 
 window. The morning light revealed the weariness of 
 her face. It bore the marks of exhaustion, as of one 
 who had struggled till strength failed. The girl's hands 
 hung limp and nerveless. She had wrought herself up 
 to the point of supreme effort. To announce to her 
 cousin her intention of delivering him to justice had 
 seemed to her a physical impossibility. Her tongue 
 absolutely refused the office. But she compelled it to 
 the task. Now the words were spoken. She had
 
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 entered upon the course to which conscience called her. 
 Yet she was not at peace. She was an unwilling ser- 
 vant. She had yielded to conscience the obedience of 
 a slave, driven by the lash of fear. Not that the worst 
 fear was for herself. It was not to ease her conscience 
 that she had surrendered. The condemnation yet 
 rested on her spirit. It had been in no wise removed. 
 She and right were yet opposed. She wished to rebel, 
 though she obeyed. But persistency in hiding her 
 cousin's sin meant to her the loss of his soul, and in 
 that loss she would have a hand. If she did not speak, 
 justice could not overtake him. On his soul would rest 
 an unacknowledged sin that would sink him to hell. 
 The sin must be confessed, and her tongue must con- 
 fess it, since his would not. 
 
 The signs of her struggle were so apparent, that 
 when, in the afternoon of the same day, the second step 
 of that forced duty was taken, and Probity entered a 
 house in the small town of Kingston, the grave face of 
 the elderly Dutch gentleman before whom she pre- 
 sented herself softened at sight of her. There was such 
 a depth of sorrow in her eyes that the voice which had 
 often struck terror to the hearts of evil-doers was very 
 gentle as he asked : 
 
 " What is your pleasure, my child? Can I do aught 
 to serve you ? " 
 
 " Sir," said Probity, " I understand that you are one 
 of those appointed in this province to judge your fellow- 
 men." 
 
 There was the faintest approach to a smile on his 
 lips as he bowed in response. 
 
 " I have much to say to you," she continued. " I 
 pray you to hear me patiently." 
 
 " Then if you have much to say, sit you down," he 
 replied kindly. 
 
 Philip Vanderbeeck was a man who could be stern on
 
 FREE TO SERVE 379 
 
 occasion, but there was no trace of sternness in his 
 manner as he added : 
 
 " Now, if you are ready, I will listen." 
 
 " My name is Probity Thaxter," she said, " and I 
 belong not to the province of New York, but to the 
 New England colonies. I have for many months dwelt 
 at the Feljer manor house, where I came to visit my 
 aunt, Madam Feljer, who now is no more." 
 
 The face of her listener changed. He leant forward, 
 and his manner grew still more attentive. 
 
 " My aunt had in her service a young girl, a bond- 
 servant," continued Probity. " She was to her almost 
 as a daughter, and was allowed much liberty." 
 
 She looked at him inquiringly. She wanted to be 
 sure that he was following her. 
 
 " I understand. And your trouble is connected with 
 her?" 
 
 " With her and my cousin Geysbert, my aunt's eldest 
 son." 
 
 Probity's voice faltered. She stopped a moment,, 
 and then went on steadily. 
 
 " After my aunt's death this maid left the manor 
 house — without permission. She claimed to have a 
 duty to perform for my aunt, and I think it prob- 
 able that she spoke the truth. My aunt trusted her 
 much." 
 
 " Was she worthy of trust? " 
 
 The interruption was made more for the sake of 
 giving the speaker time, than from a desire for further 
 information. Probity had spoken quietly — too quietly. 
 Her calmness was so manifestly the result of strong 
 self-repression, that it awakened Philip Vanderbeeck's 
 sympathy. 
 
 " I think she was. Yet, in my opinion, she was mis- 
 guided. My cousin Geysbert was angry at her disap- 
 pearance. He had reason to suppose that she had
 
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 gone to New York, and he was about to seek her there. 
 He is passionate, and he was unduly angry." 
 
 Again Probity paused. The pallor of her face in- 
 creased. 
 
 " The story is hard for you to tell. Rest awhile, or 
 perhaps I can supply some of it myself," said her lis- 
 tener considerately. " Does not your trouble lie in the 
 thought that this girl has been too harshly treated by 
 your cousin? He has perhaps unduly and unlawfully 
 punished her, and your sympathies are aroused." 
 
 " My poor cousin ! Nay, I fear that my sympathies 
 are yet with him, in spite of his sin. But I may not 
 hide the crime. I dare not run the risk of allowing her 
 death, unconfessed, to lie upon his soul." 
 
 " Her death ! " 
 
 Probity rose suddenly, and stood before him, 
 
 "Sir, I fear it is so," she said, "I would I could 
 think otherwise." 
 
 " This is a serious charge to bring against the son of 
 Wyntie Feljer. And it is strange that one of his own 
 family should prefer it." 
 
 Philip Vanderbeeck spoke sternly. 
 
 " The choice lay not with me," said the girl, in a low, 
 deep voice. " There was none other who knew. As 
 one who had tried to destroy the evidence of his guilt, 
 I was constrained to speak. I had put it out of the 
 power of any other to bring righteous punishment upon 
 him. In my desire to shield him I had forgotten the 
 soul that could be destroyed by my weakness. There 
 was but one thing to be done. I was clearly called 
 •upon to make his guilt known. Yet for a day and a 
 night I strove against the duty." 
 
 She lifted her eyes to her listener's face, and for a 
 minute stood quite still before him. In that minute he 
 realized something of the conflict through which she had 
 passed. It was impossible to look into her face without
 
 FREE TO SERVE 381 
 
 realizing it. And while he looked, he ceased to wonder. 
 It would have been strange that such information should 
 be given by one so near, and evidently so much in 
 sympathy with the accused, had not that one been 
 Probity Thaxter ; but it would have been stranger still 
 if this girl who stood before him had refrained from 
 speaking. 
 
 " I understand. You act from a sense of duty," he 
 said. 
 
 " Of necessity, sir, imperative necessity, lest his soul 
 should be the price of my silence." 
 
 " You spoke of destroying the evidence of the crime. 
 What was that evidence?" asked Philip Vanderbeeck. 
 
 Then, in a clear, low voice that thrilled her hearer, 
 Probity told the story of the night which had seemed 
 to bring life — as she knev/ it before — to an end, and 
 of the day which followed. Her account was singu- 
 larly free from those comments to which, in his position 
 of Justice, Philip Vanderbeeck was accustomed to listen. 
 This girl went straight to the point, and stayed there. 
 In a wonderfully short time he was in possession of the 
 facts, and had learned the significance of the frayed rope 
 and the blood-stained rock. 
 
 In his capacity as Judge, Philip Vanderbeeck had 
 never listened to a story that touched him so deeply. 
 The strong, but admirably controlled emotion of the 
 speaker gave life and reality to her words. He was 
 strangely sympathetic towards this girl. And yet it 
 was not altogether strange. He remembered the time 
 when a little energetic Dutch maiden held his heart in 
 her keeping. Ah, that was long ago, and she became 
 Wyntie Feljer instead of Wyntie Vanderbeeck, but all 
 through this sorrowful story he saw the face of the 
 young Dutch maid, and the thought that the life of 
 Wyntie Feljer's son was at stake made him quick to see 
 the weak points in the accusation. Instinctively, when
 
 382 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Probity ceased speaking, he began to question her. His 
 voice assumed a judicial tone. 
 
 " Had you any reason to suppose that this girl was in 
 the neighbourhood of the manor house?" he asked. 
 
 "None whatever," 
 
 " On the contrary, it seemed to you more reasonable 
 that she should be in New York?" 
 
 " Very much more. I cannot account for her leav- 
 ing the manor house, except to go to New York," 
 said Probity. 
 
 " Was it likely that she would go to the city and 
 return at once? " 
 
 " No, sir. Very unlikely." 
 
 "Then your sole reason for supposing that harm has 
 come to her lies in the words your cousin addressed to 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes. I had no other means of judging." 
 
 "Do you think that at that time your cousin was in a 
 condition to be held responsible for his words?" 
 
 Probity looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 " Sir," she said, " he was intoxicated." 
 
 "Will you tell me just how much you mean by that 
 term?" he asked. 
 
 " Sir," she said, " is there any better limit of the word 
 than that given in our old Plymouth colony law? * By 
 drunkenness is understood a person that either lisps or 
 falters in his speech by reason of much drink, or that 
 staggers in his going, or that cannot follow his calling.' 
 Truly my cousin faltered in his speech by reason of 
 much drink, and he did not merely stagger, but fall 
 in a heap by the side of his horse, and he was unable 
 even to rid the beast of its harness." 
 
 In spite of the gravity of the occasion, a smile hov- 
 ered about the lips of the Justice. 
 
 " The words of a drunken man are often foolish, and 
 sometimes meaningless," he said, " yet taken in con-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 383 
 
 junction with the blood and the torn rope, they are sus- 
 picious. Of themselves, however, I doubt whether they 
 present much evidence." 
 
 Probity's startled eyes were fixed on his face. For 
 the first time in the interview her calmness seemed to 
 be failing her. 
 
 " Sir, oh, sir," she said, " give me no false hope. You 
 know not how my heart clutches at it." 
 
 " You would rather keep in the dead calm of despair, 
 where hope and fear do not contend?" he said kindly. 
 " Poor child ! Your devotion to duty is costing you 
 much suffering. Yet I think that in this case you have 
 rather unwarrantably jumped to conclusions. There 
 are many suspicious circumstances, but, in my estima- 
 tion, little real evidence that your cousin has committed 
 a crime. There, there, child," he added hastily, as he 
 took her hand in his, and gently forced her into a chair, 
 " sit down and take comfort. You have put too great a 
 strain upon yourself." 
 
 The hand he held was limp and cold. For the time, 
 the calm, self-reliant Probity had vanished. It was a 
 pitiful, suffering face that lifted itself to his. 
 
 " Sir," she said, " it cannot be as you think, or why is 
 my cousin so remorseful, so unlike himself ? " 
 
 He shook his head. " That I cannot tell you, yet it 
 may well be that he is not so great a culprit as you 
 deem him." Then, after a short silence, he added, " If 
 it were as you think, this would be a case for the Su- 
 preme Court. Am I mistaken in thinking you came 
 to me that the responsibility might be taken off your 
 shoulders? " 
 
 " I thought that, as a Judge, you would know what to 
 do," she said. " I would do what is right, for his sake." 
 
 " Will you leave the matter in my hands? " he asked. 
 " I have a little more legal knowledge than yourself, I 
 think."
 
 384 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 He was smiling again now. 
 
 " Sir, I should be very thankful to do so." 
 
 " Then I will come to-morrow and see the place of 
 which you speak — this ravine. And I will speak with 
 your cousin. He knows nothing, I suppose, of your 
 coming? " 
 
 " I am not sure. He was away when I started. But 
 he will not be surprised. I told him in what direction 
 my duty lay." 
 
 " You told him that you were about to inform against 
 him?" 
 
 " Surely, sir. It was but just so to do." 
 
 He looked at her curiously. 
 
 "And he? What did he say ? " 
 
 " He told me to do as I saw best. Sir, he was very 
 good to me." 
 
 Her voice broke, and her eyes grew dim. 
 
 "And he was not alarmed? " 
 
 " He did not seem to be so. He said he should 
 defend himself." 
 
 " That is strong presumptive evidence that he is not 
 guilty," said Philip Vanderbeeck cheerfully. " Well, 
 my dear, there is no more to be done to-day. To- 
 morrow I will see you at the manor house." 
 
 "You are very kind to me," said Probity simply. 
 "I thank you." 
 
 She left the house, comforted, and hastened to the 
 river, where her attendants awaited her with the boat. 
 It was late when she reached the landing, and she was 
 surprised to see Geysbert looking for her. He held out 
 his hand to assist her. 
 
 " I had grown anxious about you," he said, " though, 
 to be sure, these rascals are equal to bringing you back 
 safely." 
 
 He gave a word of command to the negroes, and 
 turned up the path with her.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 385 
 
 " Cousin, it was good of you to come to meet me." 
 
 There were tears in Probity's voice. Her self-control 
 was giving way. The long strain was proving too much 
 even for her trained will. 
 
 " We may as well be good to each other," he said. 
 "We are neither of us any too happy." 
 
 He did not enter the house with her, nor ask her of 
 her doings, and she saw him no more that night. She 
 did not know what time he came in, for she slept the 
 sleep of sheer exhaustion. Attempts at rigid self- 
 examination were useless that night. Probity had lost 
 the power of judging, not others only, but herself. Brain 
 and body and heart were wearied past bearing. They 
 peremptorily refused to be driven farther. In defiance 
 of her protests, the sleep of exhaustion seized upon her, 
 and questionings of her own conduct and of her cousin's 
 ceased. When she awoke she put the questions from 
 her. She had to take up the dropped duties of the 
 household, and she felt that there was but strength left 
 for the one set of responsibilities. Ryseck exclaimed 
 at sight of her face. 
 
 " What are things coming to? " she said. " Surely 
 madam's presence was never so much needed as now. 
 There, there, child, get you to your breakfast. When 
 you're as old as 1 am, you'll have learned that the man 
 that's worth a good woman's breaking her heart over, 
 must be a very extraordinary one indeed." 
 
 Ryseck had her own opinion about the cause of the 
 present peculiar condition of affairs at the manor house. 
 The evident excitement was explainable on her hypoth- 
 esis, and she sympathized with Probity. 
 
 " Breaking her heart over a lad that has never an eye 
 for her ! " she said impatiently. 
 
 In the afternoon of that day Probity was summoned 
 to meet Philip Vanderbeeck. He greeted her with a 
 smile.
 
 386 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 " I have seen your cousin," he said, " and visited the 
 place of which you told me, I think you need trouble 
 yourself no farther on the point of being called upon to 
 institute proceedings against him. There is but a very 
 slight foundation for your suspicions, and though I can- 
 not altogether set your mind at rest, I believe this to be 
 a case where it would be wisest to exercise that charity 
 which thinketh no evil. Your cousin admits there are 
 circumstances connected with that night which he does 
 not wish to explain, or feel called upon to explain, 
 unless the law should force him, in which case he thinks 
 he can dispose of the matter satisfactorily. He is at a 
 loss to understand where you obtained your impression, 
 unless it be, as you say, from words spoken by himself 
 when in a state of disgraceful drunkenness. He has no 
 memory of them, and but an indistinct recollection of 
 anything which happened that night. As for the rope, 
 he justly says that its presence in the hands of one who 
 is by instinct a hunter, is not to be harshly construed. 
 Such a rope might easily be stained with blood, without 
 it being necessary to suppose that human blood had 
 been shed. On the whole, my dear, I think he has the 
 best of the argument," said the kind-hearted Judge, 
 " and I would advise you to dismiss the subject from 
 your mind. It seems to me that the worst you could 
 do would but lead to a harassing trial, at which there 
 would be insufficient evidence to convict. The girl 
 may be beyond the province before now. It is almost 
 impossible to find out whether she be dead or alive. 
 Better let the matter rest." 
 
 She looked at him long and searchingly. Because 
 she wanted to believe, she held back. 
 
 " I know not how to thank you, sir," she said. " I 
 am in perplexity about the matter. Yet surely you 
 should know better than myself." 
 
 " I have had more experience," he said.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 387 
 
 " Yes. I ought, perhaps, to trust to it. My aunt 
 averred that I trusted too much to my own judgment. 
 It is possibly true." 
 
 " That may well be, my dear," he said, and there was 
 a twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " I will seek guidance on the subject," continued 
 Probity. " But in the meantime my heart is full of 
 thankfulness to you for your sympathy and your help. 
 I would fain express my gratitude, but I seem to have 
 no words in which to speak." 
 
 " It is unnecessary, my child," he replied. " Wyntie 
 Feljer's niece should command my services, even if in 
 yourself I had found nothing to awaken my sympathy." 
 
 He would not stay, though she pressed him. He 
 took both her hands in his. 
 
 "Patience is a virtue that should be cultivated at the 
 present time, I think," he said. " Patience in judg- 
 ment and in action. Good-by. Don't quarrel with your 
 cousin."
 
 388 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 THE almost human cry which burst from poor Kin 
 at the moment when the falling log swept him 
 over into the ravine, that cry which had haunted 
 Geysbert ever since, had been carried by the wind away 
 from Aveline. It reached her, however, in a subdued 
 form, bringing with it a renewed sense of danger. When 
 she dropped behind the bushes she at first lay exhausted, 
 listening to the hoof-beats of Geysbert's horse. Now 
 she roused herself, and rose, staggering, to her feet. 
 Geysbert might find out the substitution and return, and 
 yet — she did not think he would. The rum he had 
 taken must produce effect before long, and when it did, 
 it would insure inaction for many hours. 
 
 She became suddenly aware of the blood that was 
 trickling from her wrist, and she wrapped her handker- 
 chief about the wound. Strength seemed to have left 
 her limbs ; she was trembling violently. She stood still 
 to recover breath for that upward climb to the tepee. 
 It was terribly long and steep. She was but just begin- 
 ning to realize the danger through which she had passed, 
 and that which lay ahead. It was the thought of the dan- 
 ger to Helmer which overcame the weakness of her shak- 
 ing limbs. She drew her forces together and began the 
 ascent. He must not know of what had happened, at 
 least to-night. To-morrow, by daybreak, he should be 
 removed farther into the forest, where Geysbert could 
 not so easily find him. But to-night she would hide 
 everything from him. 
 
 She passed the cut and jagged rope that had been 
 wound around her wrists, and then, she hardly knew 
 why, turned and picked it up, slipping it into her pocket.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 389 
 
 The intense excitement which had hitherto carried her 
 through was passing away, and exhaustion gained upon 
 her. Her feet dragged heavily, and the pain of the 
 bruises made itself felt. She began to realize Geys- 
 bert's brutality, and the authority he had over her. In- 
 dignation was, however, stronger than fear. 
 
 " Missy! Missy Av'line ! " 
 
 Tyte's voice sounded from among the trees. The sigh 
 of relief with which Aveline turned towards the boy 
 showed how great was the effort she was making. 
 
 "Tyte," she said, "come here. I want you to help me 
 up the hill." 
 
 "Missy — missy isn't hurt?" 
 
 Tyte sprang towards her. His eyes looked up at her 
 in the moonlight. When he saw the whiteness of her 
 face he said, " Mars'r Geysbert drunk, or he never 
 hurt missy, not when he worst angry." 
 
 She put her hand on his shoulder, and leant on 
 him. 
 
 " You must not tell Mr. Helmer — not a word," she 
 said. 
 
 " No, missy. Dis boy know better." 
 
 They reached the camp, and Aveline looked in upon 
 Helmer. He was still asleep, and she went to her own 
 tepee. She must throw off this weakness, or Helmer 
 would discover what had happened. His eyes would 
 be even sharper than Tyte's. 
 
 It was not easy to throw it off. The shock had been 
 great. She felt a numbness creeping over her, and tried 
 to rouse herself. The next moment she was fully 
 roused, and that without effort of her own. The silence 
 of the forest was again invaded ; through the door of 
 the tepee had come the sound of voices. There was no 
 room for doubt. Some one was near. Was Geysbert 
 returning with another — possibly Arent Hooghland? 
 
 She forgot her hurts, and went swiftly outside. It
 
 3-90 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 could not be Geysbert, for the sounds came from above. 
 She stood upon the track waiting. The voices had 
 ceased, but now and again the cracking of a twig told 
 that the intruders approached. 
 
 Then two figures emerged from the shadow. Ave- 
 line's heart beat heavily. Who were they, and what was 
 their errand? They came nearer, the taller in advance 
 of his companion. The moonlight revealed his face to 
 her as she stood motionless. 
 
 " Fulke ! " she cried, and tried to run to meet him, 
 but the treacherous strength suddenly gave way. 
 
 " Aveline ! Why, child, what are you doing here? " 
 
 His arm was about her, and he was looking into her 
 white face. Her lips moved, but no sound came. 
 Then he saw the bandaged wrist, and his own face 
 paled. He gathered her up in his arms and carried 
 her towards the tepees. 
 
 " Not dere," suddenly interposed Tyte's voice, as 
 Fulke would have taken her into the one where Helmer 
 slept. " Missy be sorry if Mars'r Helmer see her now. 
 Missy say not to let him know." 
 
 Tyte guided the way to Aveline's especial part of the 
 camp. Fulke carried her inside, and peremptorily 
 ordered the boy out. Then, his professional instincts 
 asserting themselves, he proceeded, by the light of the 
 lantern, to bind up the wounded wrist more effectually, 
 and to examine the bruises on Aveline's arm. 
 
 "There's something wrong here," he said, and he 
 set his lips together closely. " It is time somebody 
 looked after her, poor child." 
 
 " Oh, Fulke, I am so glad ! " 
 
 Aveline opened her eyes. She made a great effort, 
 but the words were only a whisper. 
 
 "There, lie still. Glad? So am L" 
 
 He bent over her to alter her position. She gave a 
 sharp cry of pain.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 391 
 
 "What is it? Where are you hurt?" he asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 " All over, I think. To be dragged behind a horse is 
 calculated to inflict some injuries." 
 
 She spoke indignantly, if feebly. 
 
 " You were riding, and were thrown?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Her lips quivered. She was yet too much unnerved 
 to give him a clear account of what had occurred. 
 
 " There, never mind," he said gently. " I am afraid 
 you are injured more seriously than I thought." 
 
 " No, I am only bruised and scratched," she said. 
 " It came near being worse. It would have been, if he 
 had carried out his madness." 
 
 "He?" 
 
 " Yes. Geysbert Feljer." 
 
 Fulke's brow grew dark, but he restrained himself. 
 Aveline was in no fit state to be agitated further. The 
 way in which he listened to the story, as it came in dis- 
 connected sentences, was possibly the best proof he 
 could have given of the disciplinary effect of his pres- 
 ent self-reliant life. 
 
 "We shall see," he said, and his tone was ominously 
 calm. " I think I may promise you your freedom 
 now, child. Geysbert Feljer may be a brute, but even 
 brutes believe in self-preservation, and self-preservation 
 just now requires the going through a little legal process 
 that shall alter the relations between a certain much- 
 abused girl and his own precious self" 
 
 Aveline hesitated. The thought of discomfiting 
 Gysbert was inviting, but she remembered Helmer. 
 Any triumph for her would be paid for at his ex- 
 pense. 
 
 "Geysbert deserves it," she said. "And truly he 
 has put himself in our power. His act must surely 
 have been a breach of the law, though he claims he
 
 392 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 has all authority over me. Yet it would be dangerous 
 to push him too far. Helmer's life is at stake." 
 
 Aveline had not seen Fulke since Geysbert's journey 
 to New York, and she had much to explain. Through 
 the early summer months he had been away among 
 distant tribes of Indians, seeking to prove to them that 
 it was more to their interest to come and trade at Al- 
 bany than to go to the French traders of Canada. He 
 had had some success, and was now on his way to a 
 village of the Five Nations, there to look after certain 
 recreant hunters. 
 
 " I came far out of my course to pay you a hurried 
 visit," he said. " I had had no news of you for long, 
 and was anxious. It was well I came. The manor 
 house is no fit place for you now." 
 
 When Helmer awoke it was to see Fulke watching 
 beside him. 
 
 " You have changed nurses," said Fulke quietly. 
 " My sister is resting." 
 
 He found Helmer on the high road to recovery. 
 
 " It would not hurt you to be moved," he said. " I 
 think I shall take you along with me. Before the journey 
 is over you will be well, that is, if we make it long 
 enough." 
 
 He did not speak of Geysbert's visit, but he intimated 
 that he had heard rumours which convinced him it would 
 be wiser to make a move in the early morning. 
 
 " You will not lose your nurse," he said. " I am go- 
 ing to keep my sister with me, and settle the matter with 
 Geysbert later on." 
 
 After that explanation Helmer offered no objection to 
 the plan. 
 
 Fulke had not abandoned his project of calling Geys- 
 bert to acco'unt for his dealings with Aveline ; he had 
 only postponed it. He could see good reasons for delay. 
 He had had a long talk with Aveline, and as a result, the
 
 FREE TO SERVE 393 
 
 early morning saw the camp deserted. With the help 
 of his Indian guide, Fulke constructed a litter, and the 
 two carried Helmer far enough that day to remove all 
 danger of a second visit from Geysbert. It was not until 
 many days later that Helmer learned why the hurried 
 move was made. When he saw the rope — stained and 
 cut — which had bound Aveline's wrists, his face grew 
 very white. 
 
 " Will it ever be possible to make up to you for the 
 wrong we Feljers have done you ? " he said.
 
 394 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 COUSIN GEYSBERT!" 
 A week had passed since Justice Vanderbeeck's 
 visit. There were dark Hnes about Probity's eyes, 
 and a sorrowful droop to her hps. She was not the Pro- 
 bity of the past, even of the more recent days since 
 madam's death. Peace had not returned to her heart. 
 She had come to the conclusion that, so far as justice 
 was concerned, her duty towards her cousin was ac- 
 complished. But the consciousness of a crime, and of 
 her own part in concealing it, was always present. 
 
 Geysbert had been very gentle towards her. He felt 
 no inclination to resent her action. His heart was in too 
 great a tumult of remorse to feel the full force of that 
 act. He met her the same night, and stopped to speak 
 to her. 
 
 "Well, is it even between us?" he said kindly. 
 "You have had your way, and your conscience should 
 be at peace." 
 
 " Nay, my cousin," she replied sadly, " the shame 
 and sorrow of a sin yet rest upon it. My heart clung 
 to the evil, and in its fellowship I must still live. It may 
 be that in time it will be purged away. But to throw 
 from me now the pain of that sin, to trick my heart 
 into believing that it has accepted the higher will 
 because that will at the present demands no supreme 
 sacrifice, is to cheat myself. Nay, I look not for peace, 
 nor do I deserve it." 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " You go too deep for me," he said. " Enough for 
 me if I escape those sins the sting of which your inno- 
 cence knows nothing of. But you are not going to shut
 
 FREE TO SERVE 395 
 
 against me that much-tried heart of yours, are you ? I 
 think you are about my last friend now." 
 
 " Cousin, if I had loved you less, I should have 
 sinned less," she said. 
 
 He looked into her face as she lifted it towards him. 
 From that moment he never again told himself that 
 Probity's eyes were passionless. 
 
 The next morning Geysbert appeared at the usual 
 hour for breakfast. Since that night ride he had taken 
 no meals with his cousin, but now the manor house fell 
 into its old ways, or new ways, for it was very silent and 
 sad without Aveline. 
 
 Ryseck alone was at her ease. Philip had recovered, 
 and Ryseck was in no wise uneasy about Aveline. She 
 noted the signs of suffering in Geysbert, and nodded 
 her head complacently. 
 
 " Serves him right. He's getting a taste of his pun- 
 ishment, and he finds it bitter in his mouth," she said. 
 " He may take away his brother's possession, aye, and 
 his character, but he cannot take that lass from him. 
 She's too much for Geysbert, bless her, and he knows 
 it, and the knowledge goes hard with him," 
 
 The signs of suffering were very apparent. The 
 week that had passed had not dimmed the memory of 
 that sharp cry, nor driven from Geysbert's eyes the 
 picture of Aveline's white face. They went with him 
 everywhere. The nights were worse than the days, for 
 then they claimed his undivided attention. Possibly 
 that was why he was so late in coming in to-night. 
 Probity had long been waiting for him. Now, as he 
 entered, she met him in the hall. 
 
 " Cousin Geysbert ! " she said. 
 
 He looked up wearily. If she had not spoken he 
 would have passed her. 
 
 " Will it be a sorrow to you to know that my father 
 requires my presence?" she asked.
 
 396 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 There was the slightest quiver in her voice. It might 
 or might not be a sorrow to Geysbert, it was undoubt- 
 edly a deep sorrow to Probity. 
 
 " You are going from us? " 
 
 Unconsciously he used the last word. It was hard to 
 remember that he was alone. 
 
 " It is my father's command." 
 
 " Ah ! You had a letter from him to-day. I had 
 forgotten the fact." 
 
 A light sigh parted Probity's lips. She had not failed 
 to notice that what was of so much interest to herself 
 had slipped from his memory almost instantly. 
 
 " And you are really going? " 
 
 There was sorrow in his tone now — unmistakable 
 sorrow. 
 
 " It is a grief to me," she said. 
 
 "And what is it to me? You are the last. The 
 manor house will be desolate when you are gone." 
 
 " Cousin, I would thank you for all the kindness I 
 have received at this house," she said. " I have had 
 much happiness here." 
 
 " Remember the happiness, and forget the sorrow, 
 child," he said. 
 
 And then he drew her to him, and kissed her. 
 
 " There," he said bitterly, releasing her as he spoke, 
 " I have no right to do it. Light and darkness have no 
 fellowship." 
 
 He stood still, looking at her. 
 
 " When will you go? " he asked, after a long silence. 
 
 "To-morrow. There will be an opportunity." 
 
 "So soon?" 
 
 " It will be better. The heart will not protest the less 
 for waiting." 
 
 She smiled sadly. The tears were very near. 
 
 " The desolation will be complete when you are 
 gone," he said.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 397 
 
 He stood aside to let her pass, and watched her as 
 she went upstairs. And she, as she put together the 
 simple possessions she had brought to the manor house, 
 dropped among them a few hot tears. 
 
 Strivewell Thaxter's words had been peremptory. 
 
 " Your place is at home, daughter," he wrote. " Now 
 that Wyntie Feljer is no more, you have naught to do at 
 the manor house. Bid your cousin Geysbert farewell, 
 and remind him from me that my home is open to him, 
 and that a hearty welcome awaits him should he choose 
 to visit it. And you — come at once. Your cousin can- 
 not take it ill that you should so do. He is free to 
 follow you, if he desire thus to do. I shall look for 
 you speedily." 
 
 Geysbert read the words for himself on the morrow, 
 before Probity left him, 
 
 " I thank him for the invitation," he said, but he made 
 no promise of accepting it. 
 
 He held Probity's hands tightly as he stood with her 
 on the boat, waiting for the signal to speak the last 
 words. She was very pale and still. 
 
 "You have need to forgive us for bringing you to 
 the manor house," he said. " This face is not the face 
 of the cousin I met scarce a year ago. Our sorrows 
 have pressed heavily upon you." 
 
 ** I would not have had it otherwise," she replied. 
 " Truly my heart is sorrowful, yet would I not go back 
 to the days in which I had not lived at the manor house, 
 nor known — my cousins." 
 
 He looked down upon her. Blind eyes do sometimes 
 open. Geysbert's were undergoing a change. He bent 
 over her and kissed her. 
 
 He watched until the boat was out of sight, and then 
 returned to the empty manor house. It was more deso- 
 late than ever now that Probity was gone. He missed 
 her quiet ministrations, and her unfailing sympathy. He
 
 398 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 seemed more alone with his sin. The constant presence 
 of that sin was eating away the covering of sophistry 
 under which Geysbert had buried mercy and brotlierly 
 kindness. He could no longer stand righteously aloof 
 and mete out retribution to his brother. Helmer's crime 
 — supposing that he had committed it — was as nothing 
 by the side of his own. And when he had ceased to 
 magnify the crime, he found himself growing less confi- 
 dent about its committal. His mother had been certain 
 that Helmer was innocent, and Aveline had never doubted 
 it. Aveline's opinion had become a weighty argument 
 on the side of acquittal. He did not believe his brother 
 innocent, but he allowed the entrance of a doubt. 
 
 His remorse for his cruelty to Aveline was all-absorb- 
 ing. He attended to the affairs of the estate in a half- 
 hearted fashion, but his real life was lived in the memory 
 of that night. If he could have found Helmer, he would 
 at this time have befriended him — for her sake. There 
 was, however, no trace of his brother. Even Kip had 
 disappeared, gone back, in all probability, to his master. 
 There was nothing to which he could show kindness 
 because Aveline had cared for it, nothing he could do 
 for her. It would have been a relief to do it, had there 
 been anything to be done. The desire at last grew 
 strong enough to find for itself an object. 
 
 " Ryseck," said Geysbert one morning, " I am going 
 to New York to-morrow." 
 
 "To bring back Mistress Aveline?" asked Ryseck. 
 
 " To attend to my own business. It would be well if 
 others would do the same," he replied sharply. 
 
 It was the middle of the summer, and there was on 
 the estate much that required his attention, yet Geysbert 
 was going to New York — on a mission for Aveline. 
 
 " I put it out of her power to do it," he said, not spar- 
 ing himself. "It is but justice that I should do it for her." 
 
 He was going to the city to find out more about the
 
 FREE TO SERVE 399 
 
 negro who had testified against Helmer. It would, in all 
 probability, be of no avail, but he owed it to Aveline to 
 attempt it. To Aveline, and to his mother. Remorse 
 was taking broader ground. His heart was reproaching 
 him for his mother's suffering. 
 
 He lost no time in seeking the owner of the negro. 
 
 "Cato?" was the answer. "You come too late to 
 seek audience with him. The wretch is to be hanged 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Why, what crime has he committed? " 
 
 " He has but stabbed another negro in a fit of passion. 
 But the master of the murdered slave was angry, and 
 Cato is to get his deserts, more's the pity for me. He 
 was, however, a dangerous rascal enough. He was 
 capable of murdering me or anybody else in one of his 
 rages, aye, even though he should die for it the next 
 minute. He is about as well dead as alive, though it is 
 a sad loss to me." 
 
 Geysbert changed colour. He felt his voice trem- 
 bling. 
 
 " Did he ever have cause to bear a grudge against 
 one Myndert Hooghland, the assistant of the Custom 
 Officer here?" 
 
 The man laughed. 
 
 " Aye, that had he, if a bleeding back was reason 
 enough. Young Myndert caught him about among 
 some goods he was examining, and suspected him of 
 theft. He gave the rascal the choice of a flogging or 
 the mercy of the law. He chose the flogging rather 
 than the branding-iron, and he got a fair taste of it. 
 Myndert saw to that. Aye, he had cause enough for a 
 grudge." 
 
 Geysbert turned away. His brain reeled. Helmer 
 had not killed Myndert. He had been persecuting an 
 innocent man. The ground was swept from beneath 
 his feet. If Helmer were not guilty, his own action was
 
 400 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 unjustifiable. Helmer's guilt was the sole excuse for 
 all that had followed. And he had misjudged him. 
 He thought he had reached the lowest depth of misery 
 before he came to New York. But he was mistaken. 
 It was possible for remorse to get a deeper hold of him. 
 Conscience awoke more fully, and showed him himself. 
 He did not wonder now that Aveline had scorned him. 
 He scorned himself. 
 
 When he reached the prison, and confronted the 
 negro, he was too full of shame to be hard on the poor 
 wretch. Yet his face was stern as he charged him 
 with the crime of the murder of Myndert Hooghland. 
 Cato, frightened and broken down at the prospect of 
 death on the morrow, was not hard to deal with. It 
 did not take long to induce him to confess his guilt. 
 In the presence of proper witnesses, and in due legal 
 form, his confession was recorded. 
 
 " You will at least die more easily now that the sin 
 of allowing an innocent man to suffer for your deed no 
 longer rests on your soul," said Geysbert, as he looked 
 back at the abject creature. 
 
 He passed out into the sunlight. 
 
 Helmer was cleared, was free to return to the manor 
 house. Aye, but how could he face him ?
 
 FREE TO SERVE 401 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 A RENT HOOGHLAND, your work has been 
 taken out of your hands. It is two days since I 
 saw Myndert's murderer hanging dead, his 
 crimes legally atoned for." 
 
 Geysbert had come straight from his boat to Hoogh- 
 land's house. There was on his face a look the Dutch- 
 man had never seen there before. 
 
 "He is dead? Helmer Feljer has dangled by the 
 neck in the sight of all men? Aye, but I would have 
 given much to have witnessed such a sight." 
 
 The bitter hatred that betrayed itself in every tone 
 was more effective than the words. It caused Geys- 
 bert to realize the company he had joined when he 
 ranged himself on the side of what he had been pleased 
 to term justice. 
 
 " You are a fool," he said, " as big a fool as I have 
 been, and there is no bigger. The slave Cato murdered 
 Myndert, in revenge for a flogging Myndert was the 
 means of procuring for him." 
 
 "It's a lie! " shouted Arent. "But it is one that 
 shall avail you nothing. Helmer Feljer shall die, and 
 that as a murderer!" 
 
 " You rave," replied Geysbert coldly. " The crime 
 has been confessed, and a proper record of the confes- 
 sion made. My brother is as free to-day as he was 
 before Myndert's death. The copy of that confession is 
 in my pocket. You can see it if you choose." 
 
 " I won't look at it. It's a lie, every word of it." 
 
 " Just as you please," replied Geysbert. " I have no 
 wish that you should read it."
 
 402 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 He strode away, never once looking back, and Arent 
 Hooghland stood staring after him, the expression of 
 his face gradually changing from savage passion to al- 
 most childish disappointment. 
 
 Geysbert went direct to the manor house, striding 
 along beneath the July sun, his pace not in keeping 
 with the heat of the day. 
 
 " Ryseck Schredel ! " he called, in a voice that rang 
 through the house. 
 
 " Bless us all, what is the matter now? " said Ryseck 
 aloud. " That's Mr. Geysbert, and sure enough he 
 sounds like no lamb." 
 
 She came into the hall. 
 
 "Aye, sir, you are back?" she said. 
 
 " Ryseck Schredel, it will occasion you no surprise 
 for me to tell you that my brother is innocent — has 
 been proved to be so," said Geysbert. 
 
 " No surprise that j^« should tell it? " replied Ryseck. 
 " Nay, but where would you find a greater? The testi- 
 mony of an enemy goes farther than the word of a 
 friend to establish the character of the upright. If you 
 say Helmer is innocent, verily it is so." 
 
 Geysbert's face was set. He gave no sign that the 
 words stung him. 
 
 " So she's established his innocence, has she? " con- 
 tinued Ryseck. " I made a fairly good guess what the 
 dear maid's errand was before she set out, but she's 
 surely done her work apace. When is she coming back, 
 or have you changed your mind on that point also, and 
 given the poor lass her freedom? " 
 
 " If you are speaking of Miss Aveline, I did not meet 
 her in New York," said Geysbert. 
 
 His hand grasped the back of a chair nervously. He 
 was putting strong constraint upon himself. Ryseck's 
 eyes travelled up and down that tall figure. This was 
 not the Geysbert who had vowed he would bring Aveline
 
 FREE TO SERVE 403 
 
 back. It was more than defeat that had been working 
 here. 
 
 " Then she had done the business before you got 
 there?" Ryseck's curiosity was eager. 
 
 " So far as I know she had no hand in it," replied 
 Geysbert. " I went to New York to make inquiries in a 
 new direction. They were successful, and the murderer 
 was discovered. He is even now dead." 
 
 " And she had naught to do with it? " 
 
 " Nothing whatever." 
 
 " Then where is she? That's what I want to know." 
 
 Ryseck's sharp eyes were being kept at work. She 
 did not spare them, nor Geysbert. 
 
 " That I cannot tell you," he said, and turned abruptly 
 and left the hall. 
 
 " And Mr. Helmer? Is he to have his own now? " 
 
 The words went out into the hot air. Geysbert had 
 gone. The last Ryseck saw of him he was hurrying 
 down the hill, something in his gait causing even Ry- 
 seck a touch of compunction. 
 
 " The faster a man's been rushing downward, the 
 heavier he's like to fall when he comes all of a sudden 
 to the bottom," she said, " and I don't know that he 
 feels his bruises the less for the pace at which he's been 
 going. Mr. Geysbert's got a fall, and a hard one, and 
 the ache of it is yet heavy in his soul." 
 
 The ache was heavier than Ryseck guessed. It had 
 given him no rest since he learned that Helmer was in- 
 nocent. Every vestige of excuse was swept away from 
 him. Aveline had been in the right, nay, had been per- 
 forming a duty that he himself should have done, and 
 he had cruelly murdered her as a reward. That very 
 first letter, that he had kept back from his mother, con- 
 tained no lie, but the truth. Every subsequent act 
 stood out in all its unwarrantable cruelty and treachery. 
 On Helmer's guilt the right or wrong of each had
 
 404 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 turned, or to him had seemed to turn. And Helmer was 
 innocent. Geysbert stood without excuse to himself, 
 and there is no more trying position. He had robbed 
 his brother of his home, his mother's last weeks, almost 
 of her love, and he had robbed him of Aveline. A long 
 list of sins, truly, and the next step in the programme 
 was the meeting with Helmer, Unless, indeed, he had 
 absolutely filled up the measure of his iniquity, and 
 Helmer's death also lay at his door, Aveline had said 
 that his life depended on care. The shock of losing 
 her, and the hurried move, were not likely to aid in the 
 recovery of an almost dying man. 
 
 Ever since the confession of the negro these thoughts 
 had been racing after one another through Geysbert's 
 brain. Sleep had forsaken him as absolutely as peace. 
 Never once since then had there been a moment's for- 
 getfulness. Now Ryseck's last words rang in his ears. 
 
 " Is Helmer to have his own again? " Ah, there was 
 another stab. Ryseck little knew how truly the manor 
 house was Helmer's own. The memory of a legal doc- 
 ument, found after all search for it was over, was an 
 added burden on Geysbert's heart. That document was 
 unopened. He had not broken the seal. He had but 
 put the whole back into the place where he found it, 
 sure that no other would ever see it now that he was 
 master of the manor house. 
 
 The sun blazed down fiercely. Geysbert did not 
 heed it. It was not as hot as his brain. He had been 
 toiling in it all day, hurrying along in his canoe. He 
 was not conscious of the heat, only of a burning pain in 
 his head, and of a fierce ache at his heart. 
 
 He was under the shade of the trees now — in the 
 shelter of the forest. But he strode along at a pace 
 that forbade coolness, and the air was very still among 
 the trees. An irresistible impulse was urging him on to 
 the ravine beneath the ledge of rock. When he reached
 
 FREE TO SERVE 405 
 
 it he stood looking in a dazed, stupid manner upward. 
 He had forgotten his brother, forgotten the difficulties 
 that surrounded him, and the disclosures that lay in the 
 future. He was face to face again with his crowning 
 act of cruelty. A great longing for a^nd tenderness tow- 
 ards the girl against whom he had hardened his heart, 
 swept over him. 
 
 " Fool, fool that I was — aye, from the very first ! " 
 
 He spoke the words aloud in the bitterness of his 
 soul. Then, hardly knowing what he did, he scrambled 
 up where the rock was less steep, and dragged himself 
 to the path above. With straining eyes he noted the 
 rough, hard rock cropping up in the path. 
 
 " That's where I dragged her," he said. " Geysbert 
 Feljer, hanging is too good for you ! " 
 
 He took a few steps along the path. 
 
 The fire in his brain burned more fiercely. The pain 
 at his heart had grown heavier. It seemed possessed 
 of an iron hand that gripped at the life centre, and 
 smothered the heart's beating. He staggered and 
 stumbled. 
 
 " Aveline ! Oh, Aveline ! " 
 
 The words were only a whisper. They died away, 
 and Geysbert lay upon the path, his head on one of 
 those same rough stones over which he had not 
 scrupled to drag the girl he had never for a moment 
 ceased to love. 
 
 The sun went down, and the night breezes came. 
 The moon peeped in among the trees, and shone on 
 Geysbert's face, but it did not rouse him. Even the 
 sound of voices failed to do that. 
 
 "The moon is accommodating. We shall have her 
 light till morning, when we shall be well out of the way 
 of these heretics." 
 
 The language was not the prevailing Dutch, nor the 
 English of the more educated classes of the province.
 
 4o6 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 The speaker, a young man of a lithe, Hght frame, was 
 evidently at home in the forest. His companion made 
 no answer. He was hurrying on ahead. Suddenly he 
 stopped. 
 
 " Hasten, Jacques," he said, in the French tongue in 
 which the other had spoken. " Here is surely an object 
 for our charity." 
 
 " Charity be eschewed for once, father. " It is our 
 place to save our necks." 
 
 " Nay, my son, but one under my vows cannot leave 
 a fellow-man to die. Quick ! Aid me in loosening his 
 clothing. Truly he seems in a sad plight." 
 
 They knelt upon the path, and raised Geysbert's head. 
 The elder forced brandy between his lips, and set to 
 work to restore animation in a manner that betokened 
 some skill. It was long before he was successful. When 
 at last Geysbert opened his eyes, it was to look at him 
 with a broad, unseeing stare. 
 
 " This is an unfortunate business," said the older man, 
 after he had tried to elicit from his patient some infor- 
 mation as to his destination, and his business here in 
 the forest. " The time is passing, and if we be not far 
 from human habitation by morning, we may see the 
 inside of one of these English prisons." 
 
 " Aye, and that for a life sentence," replied the other. 
 " Better leave the heretic where he lies. It is all any 
 one of them merits at our hands." 
 
 " True, my son, but it is not merit that wins for any 
 of us aid. To leave a fellow-creature here to die would 
 be a sin which much penance would not atone for." 
 
 "Then what will you do? Wait here till morning, 
 and let one of these Dutchmen have the satisfaction of 
 clapping into prison a priest of the holy faith? They'll 
 do it fast enough. Forget not the extent of the law. 
 If found in this province, a priest may by any citizen be 
 dragged before a Justice, to meet the merciful punish-
 
 FREE TO SERVE 407 
 
 merit of perpetual imprisonment, with a prospect, should 
 he break jail, of dying the death of a felon. Truly it is 
 a pleasant anticipation. The fellow is not worth the 
 risk." 
 
 " He is a human being." 
 
 " Aye, and a heretic. How much would he do for 
 you if you were in need such as his? His very laws 
 forbid him to succour you. Should he do so, he would 
 merit and receive the reward of a heavy fine, with a three 
 days' occupancy of the pillory thrown in. Little fear 
 that he would risk such delights for the doubtful good 
 of saving the life of a priest." 
 
 " Peace, my son. Such a spirit savours not of right. 
 Let your arms wag instead of your tongue. We have 
 need of some strong boughs. We will even construct a 
 litter, to bear yonder poor wretch along with us. It is 
 unsafe to approach Dutch habitations, but when we 
 reach the native villages, we can send him back, provided 
 there is life yet left in him." 
 
 They worked with a will. The morning light found 
 them far away in the heart of the forest, where only an 
 Indian or a well-trained woodsman could find his way. 
 But the two pressed straight on, their goal an Indian 
 village belonging to a tribe of the Five Nations.
 
 4o8 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE priest and his companion were running some 
 risk in crossing the province of New York. Once 
 among their Indian converts they would be safe, 
 for it was not the pohcy of the EngHsh rulers to anger 
 the Indians, and strong as was their jealousy and dislike 
 towards the leaders of the French Catholics, their desire 
 to propitiate their native friends was stronger. The two 
 journeyed on, with very little rest, the younger grum- 
 bling loudly at the added burden of the sick man. He 
 lay for the most part in a stupor, now and then rousing 
 himself to mutter wild words. 
 
 " If his speech be anything but the raving of a mad- 
 man, he is as sorely in need of spiritual succour as of 
 bodily assistance," said the young man. 
 
 It was on the night before they reached their destina- 
 tion that Geysbert first showed signs of returning reason. 
 Even then it was but clouded reason. The forest was 
 still, the younger man asleep. The priest, much 
 wearied, knelt by the litter. His eyes were lifted 
 towards the stars. Absorbed in his devotions, he did 
 not perceive that the sick man's gaze was fixed upon 
 him. An impatient sigh called his attention back to 
 earth, and he looked down into eyes that for the first 
 time took cognizance of his presence and person. 
 
 " My son," he said, " can I do aught for you? " 
 
 "Son?" repeated Geysbert inquiringly. "The last 
 who called me that was my mother — and I killed her." 
 
 " Such a sin lies heavy on the conscience, yet is there 
 forgiveness even for such." 
 
 The priest spoke soothingly. He knew not how far 
 the words had been the ravings of a disordered brain.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 409 
 
 "Forgiveness? I don't know that I crave it. For- 
 getfulness would be more to the purpose. Can you 
 offer me that?" 
 
 " Nay, my son. Memory is the scar left by the 
 wound of sin. He who would escape it must avoid 
 evil." 
 
 " Your advice comes late, and your words are bald," 
 was the reply. "A scar? Nay, rather a deep wound, 
 a fiery, hungry wound, eating down into an aching sore. 
 'Tis evident you know not of what you speak." 
 
 Geysbert moved impatiently. The priest laid his 
 hand on the hot forehead. 
 
 " It is cool," said the young man, *' as cool as the 
 moonlight when it shone on her face." 
 
 " Whither were you bound when I found you upon 
 the path by the deep chasm ? " asked the priest, anxious, 
 if possible, to know something more definite about his 
 patient. 
 
 "The path up the mountain — near the ravine?" 
 Geysbert spoke slowly and hesitatingly. " Whither was 
 I bound? To destruction. It is my only destination 
 now. And yet — I think — yes, I was to find my brother 
 first. Then destruction will need no seeking." 
 
 "You were seeking your brother? What is his 
 name? " 
 
 " Helmer Feljer." 
 
 " And where were you going to find him? " 
 
 " That I do not know, any more than I know where 
 I am myself." 
 
 Geysbert spoke irritably, and the priest left his side. 
 An uneasy sleep presently closed the restless eyes, and 
 when they were next opened Geysbert was being carried 
 through the forest. The party entered the Indian 
 village at dawn, and the priest bestowed the sick man 
 in his own dwelling. An hour later his companion 
 entered hurriedly.
 
 4IO FREE TO SERVE 
 
 "Your pardon, father, for intruding -upon you thus 
 hastily," he said, " but I bring news. It will be possi- 
 ble to rid ourselves of yonder burden. Two of his race 
 are here, nay, about to depart. They have as much 
 right to charge themselves with him as had we." 
 
 "What do they here? " asked the priest. 
 
 "What do I here?" asked the other, laughing, 
 " Verily the hunter's pelts are the attraction to both. 
 They are traders, and they come to beguile our 
 friends." 
 
 " I will ask them to visit me here," said the priest, " or 
 possibly you will save me the labour, my good Jacques, 
 since you seem to be already acquainted with them." 
 
 The young Frenchman's information was of a very 
 partial nature. He had seen two white men in the 
 village, and had learned that certain Indians were medi- 
 tating a journey to Albany as a result of their visit. 
 All beyond this was inference. He did not know that 
 the coming of himself and his companion had troubled 
 the mind of one of the strangers, and that preparations 
 for departure were being hastened. To Helmer Feljer 
 the presence of the Frenchmen suggested danger, and 
 his anxiety communicated itself to Fulke. As yet, 
 Aveline knew nothing of the new arrivals. 
 
 The three had been in the Indian village long enough 
 for Helmer to regain some of his former strength. 
 Fulke was in haste to leave, but Aveline would not 
 hear of deserting her patient until he had completely 
 recovered. The presence of the French priest brought 
 matters to a sudden crisis. Helmer made active prep- 
 arations for taking again to his forest life, and Fulke 
 was only too glad to go back to Albany. 
 
 It was Helmer whom Jacques encountered when he 
 went out to deliver his friend's message, and, much 
 agdinst his will, the young man was persuaded to enter 
 the dwelling.
 
 FREE TO SERVE 411 
 
 " My friend, I have ventured to send for you to ask 
 your good offices for one of your countrymen," said 
 the priest. " Yonder hes a sick man, one of your 
 race. Should you be going back by boat, it would be 
 a charity to carry him along. We found him in the 
 woods, and for divers reasons could not return him to 
 his friends." 
 
 Helmer approached the bed. The sleeping man moved 
 uneasily. The priest saw his visitor stop, his face grow- 
 ing white and rigid. For a minute neither spoke. 
 
 " You know him? " said the priest at last. 
 
 " Yes, I know him." 
 
 The Frenchman looked from one to the other, 
 
 " You have known him long," he said. " The same 
 mother called both of you son." 
 
 Helmer turned to him quickly. 
 
 "You are right," he said. "He is my brother. I 
 will take the burden off your hands. But I would ask 
 that when he shall awake we may be alone." 
 
 " It shall be as you say," was the answer. 
 
 But instead of leaving the hut, the priest drew yet 
 nearer to his visitor, laying his hand on the young 
 man's arm. 
 
 "He who would hope to receive mercy must show 
 himself merciful," he said. 
 
 Helmer looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 "What do you know of him, or me?" he asked. 
 
 " Little," was the reply. " But I know the human 
 heart. It needs oft to take counsel with mercy, lest it 
 fail to remember that justice and revenge at times are 
 like of face." 
 
 " I will remember that he is sick," said Helmer. "As 
 for mercy, it may not always take precedence of justice." 
 
 For many minutes the little cabin was very still. Hel- 
 mer was alone with his brother. He stood looking upon 
 Geysbert's face. Something in that face softened the
 
 412 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 voice of justice. It was so worn and weary and full of 
 suffering. Suddenly the sick man's lips moved. 
 
 " Aveline ! " he said. 
 
 The pain and remorse and longing in the one word 
 struck home to Helmer's heart. He realized how madly 
 Geysbert had loved. He bent over his brother. 
 
 " Geysbert," he said gently. 
 
 Geysbert opened his eyes. For a moment there was 
 in them a look of recognition, then it changed to terror. 
 He put up his hand, as if to ward off a blow. 
 
 " You have found me," he said. " It was I who was 
 to find you — to find you, and tell you. I killed her." 
 
 He said it quietly, but with an intensity of horror that 
 communicated itself to Helmer. 
 
 " You killed her? " 
 
 "Yes — murdered her. She was hurled down into 
 the ravine — among the rocks. I saw the blood in great 
 clots." 
 
 Violent trembling seized him. He clutched Helmer's 
 hand. 
 
 " You have a right to avenge her," he said. " She be- 
 longed to you, not to me. I said you had no right to 
 her, but you had. She was right, and you were right, 
 and my mother was right. I alone was a fool." 
 
 " Yes, you were that." 
 
 The bitterness had not all gone from Helmer's voice, 
 though its tone was not hard. 
 
 " Do )ou think I have not learned it? I would give 
 my life, yes, by inches, to undo my work. It can never 
 be undone. Listen ! I dragged her behind my horse, 
 bound and helpless. Yes, I cruelly dragged her — Ave- 
 line — over the rough rocks, and I saw her white face 
 and would not stop. 1 did not care, until I heard her 
 cry as she went over into the ravine. I was drunk then 
 — I have been mad since." 
 
 " And now? You are sorry for your violence? "
 
 FREE TO SERVE 415 
 
 Helmer asked the question very distinctly. He 
 wanted the words to reach the fevered brain. 
 
 " Sorry ! " Geysbert laughed fiercely. " Do you 
 know what hell is? I do. I've been there ever since 
 that night. I shall never be anywhere else. But there's 
 deeper torment, even in hell," he continued, " and it 
 came to me. If there be a deeper still, I suppose it 
 will come too. Yes, it came when the slave Cato con- 
 fessed his crime, and I knew that it was my own mad 
 jealousy, and that alone, that had made a fool of me. I 
 was not a murderer only, but a murderer without excuse. 
 You were innocent. I had broken my mother's heart, 
 and driven you from home, and murdered her, and all 
 to uphold a lie. I had at least had a shred of excuse 
 for my vindictiveness. Now there was none." 
 
 " And you were convinced of my innocence? " 
 
 " Aye, / was convinced. There was no gainsaying 
 it. The poor wretch confessed his crime before he 
 died. You are a free man — free to take your re- 
 venge." 
 
 " Hush," said Helmer gently. " I want no revenge. 
 I would but be sure that you honestly repent of your 
 cruelty to her." 
 
 " Repent ! " replied Geysbert, and his voice rose 
 sharply. "What is the use of repentance? Will it 
 bring her back? Will it still the sound of that cry, 
 and take away the memory of that rope as it hung by 
 one strand over the black chasm? Will repentance do 
 that?" 
 
 Again the trembling seized him. Helmer made no 
 answer. He stood looking down upon him. Then he 
 forcibly disengaged his hand, and left the sick man 
 alone. 
 
 It was not long before he returned, not long enough 
 for that fit of trembling to have ceased. The hands that 
 lay upon the bed-clothes shook painfully. A sob or
 
 414 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 two came from between the quivering lips. Geysbert 
 did not look round when two figures entered the door. 
 
 " Go to him," whispered Helmer, and Aveline ad- 
 vanced slowly. Her face was hard and cold. Memo- 
 ries of the old Geysbert were to the front. Her eye fell 
 on that quivering, sorrowful, broken Geysbert, and the 
 hardness began to yield. Yet there was enough stern- 
 ness left to account for the cry which broke from Geys- 
 bert's lips. 
 
 " Aveline ! " he gasped. " You have come in ven- 
 geance." Yet he stretched out his hands towards her. 
 " I am ready to meet the judgment I have merited," he 
 said. " Helmer will avenge you, and I will not resist. 
 Your eyes are full of reproach. Yet even thus I would 
 rather see you than lose you forever. I have seen you 
 ever since, but not like this. That was your white, 
 frightened face — this — is an avenging face." 
 
 " Nay, dear Geysbert, it is a forgiving face." 
 
 She bent over him, and took his hand in her own. 
 There were tears in her eyes. He felt the warm touch 
 of her fingers, and recoiled. Once more the trembling 
 increased. His teeth chattered. 
 
 " What is it? " he said. " Oh, it cannot be — " 
 
 He looked towards Helmer pitifully. 
 
 " It is Aveline herself," said his brother tenderly. 
 " See, her hands are touching yours. They are warm. 
 You did not kill her, though it might well have been as 
 you feared." 
 
 He lay looking from one to the other. Slowly the 
 trembling lessened. 
 
 " Repentance instead of despair," he said at last. 
 Then he turned to Aveline. " In years to come it may 
 be that you will learn to forgive," he said. " I will wait." 
 
 She bent over and kissed him. 
 
 " Dear brother Geysbert," she said, " you need not 
 wait. Let us be one again, in the way madam wished."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 415 
 
 " You forgive me?" he asked. 
 
 " Fully," replied Aveline. 
 
 " But Helmer cannot forgive. He loves you too 
 well. I could not forgive such wrong to one I loved as 
 I love you." 
 
 Helmer gently removed Aveline's hand from Geys- 
 bert's. 
 
 " Geysbert, dear old brother," he said, " can we 
 begin fairly now? I think I know better to-day than 
 ever I did before, what I am asking. But I ask it. 
 Your love for her has been strong enough to lead you 
 to make her miserable. Is it strong enough to con- 
 strain you to make her happy?" 
 
 Geysbert hesitated. Then his hand slowly travelled 
 towards the two which lay so near to each other. 
 Drops of perspiration broke out on his forehead. 
 
 " Take her, Helmer," he said. " I know now that 
 she could never have been for me. I was too utterly 
 unworthy of her." 
 
 He brought the two hands together. They both 
 closed over his own. 
 
 Later Geysbert tried to tell of the missing will, and 
 of his own culpability in hiding it again, but Helmer 
 stopped him. 
 
 " The past is done with," he said. " When we go 
 back we will find the will together." 
 
 It took some persuasion to prevent Fulke from having 
 some retributive words with Geysbert. 
 
 "You may all be as soft-hearted as you please," he 
 said. " It is my place to look after Aveline. On one 
 point I am determined. She goes out of my care no 
 more until she is definitely given into the care of one 
 who has more right to her." 
 
 "And how soon may that be?" asked Helmer 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Not before the autumn, at least. You must have time
 
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 to arrange matters at the manor house, and to test Geys- 
 bert's temper. I have got my sister back, and I will 
 risk her life and happiness no more. And another 
 thing. She must be legally free before she takes on 
 herself a new bondage." 
 
 " It would have been my first care in any case," said 
 Helmer. 
 
 Two days later the party broke up, Helmer and Geys- 
 bert to return to the manor house, as soon as the latter 
 was sufficiently recovered to travel, and Aveline and 
 Fulke, with Fulke's negroes, to go to Albany. The 
 journey by boat was not a hard one, as had been the 
 first part of that former journey through the forest, 
 before the point was reached where Fulke had left his 
 attendants. Aveline had time for thought, and her 
 thoughts were glad ones. Helmer was cleared, and the 
 manor house his own. 
 
 " If only dear madam had lived to see it all," she 
 said regretfully. 
 
 Warmer tints were touching the forest when Aveline 
 came back to the manor house, no longer in the char- 
 acter of Aveline Nevard, but as the young Madam 
 Feljer. Ryseck Schredel stood in the hall to welcome 
 her. 
 
 " I told you I would come back, Ryseck," said Ave- 
 line, — and she passed by the outstretched hand, and 
 laughed as she kissed the honest Dutch face, — " and 
 here I am." 
 
 " Aye, my dear, here you are, and right glad I am to 
 set eyes on you again," said Ryseck. " I neverdoubted 
 that you'd be back when your work was accomplished." 
 
 Ryseck had little to say in those days. 
 
 "When there are no robbers around, the watch dog 
 may keep his mouth shut," she remarked to Philip. '•' It's 
 an ill-bred cur that growls at friend and foe alike." 
 
 On this principle Ryseck's mouth had been shut from
 
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 the day when Arent Hooghland, disappointed and crest- 
 fallen, had decided that there was land around Esopus 
 that would prove more to his liking than any on the Fel- 
 jer estate, and when, with Helmer's full consent, all obli- 
 gations between them were cancelled, and Arent looked 
 his last on the house he had helped to make desolate. 
 With him departed all need — even in Ryseck's estima- 
 tion — of a watch dog at the manor house. 
 
 It was Geysbert himself who brought the missing will 
 to Aveline, and that on the evening of her return to the 
 manor house. He spread it open on the table. 
 
 " There is one clause here that you must read," he 
 said. 
 
 He put his finger at the place, and while she read, his 
 gaze never left her face. She lifted her eyes at last, and, 
 startled as they were, they met his. 
 
 "It makes me a bigger brute than ever, doesn't it?" 
 he said, and there was an unusual hoarseness in his 
 voice. 
 
 " It makes me happier than ever," replied Aveline. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Fulke, from the other side of 
 the big room. Fulke was very jealous for Aveline now, 
 determined, in this the beginning of a new life for her, 
 to do his duty rigorously as guardian in the place of Sir 
 Julian. He and Helmer crossed to Geysbert's side. 
 
 " It is a clause in my mother's will," said Geysbert. 
 
 " And it explains why I could not keep my promise 
 about a certain legal matter relating to Aveline," said 
 Helmer. 
 
 He held out his hand for the will, but Geysbert re- 
 tained it. It was he who read the words: "To my 
 dear daughter Aveline I leave the knowledge of her 
 freedom. The actual freedom has been hers for many 
 months, having been duly and legally recorded before 
 her journey with me to New York. Whereas she was 
 once, as a matter of form, bound to me for a period of
 
 41 8 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 five years, which form was only maintained as a legal 
 means of asserting my guardianship over her, she was 
 at that time set at liberty, that not even a form of bond- 
 age might remain, seeing I owe to her many times over 
 the small sum advanced originally on her behalf, having 
 received from her hand services many and varied." 
 
 Geysbert's voice was not quite steady as he finished 
 the words. His hand dropped to his side. He was 
 looking at Aveline again. 
 
 " And with that there I was fool enough to claim to 
 be — your master," he said. 
 
 "You did not know how presumptuous you were," 
 she replied, smiling.
 
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 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE window was open wide, and Sir Julian stood 
 with his back to it, in precisely the same attitude 
 in which he had stood more than four years be- 
 fore, when he and Lady Betty had a contention — not 
 quite am.icable — about the future of the boy and girl 
 who did not occupy the same position relatively in the 
 hearts of the two combatants. But that was in the 
 library of the Great House, whereas, to day, the street to 
 which Sir Julian's back was turned, was part of the busi- 
 ness centre of that pushing, struggling province to which 
 Fulke's aspirations had at that time longingly turned. 
 
 The determination to see his brother's " little girl " 
 once more, and to assure himself of her welfare, had 
 caused Sir Julian to take a step which reduced his 
 neighbours to a state of open-eyed amazement. 
 
 " I have a desire to see the New World for myself," 
 Sir Julian said, " for truly it seems no howling waste, 
 now that the letters of my nephew and niece have ren- 
 dered me familiar with its details. I would even judge 
 of it first hand." 
 
 " Going to the colonies are you? " quoth Lady Betty. 
 "And pray how soon? Not but that the time which 
 would suffice for you to bestow your possessions in a 
 good oaken chest would avail for my preparations also. 
 Yet will it be necessary to give the maids a little whole- 
 some advice before I leave them, and that, I'll wager, 
 will take more than a day or two." 
 
 Sir Julian looked at her with surprise. She answered 
 the look, for there was nothing else to answer. 
 
 " I don't know but I have taken as much stock in the 
 boy as you have in the girl," she said. " I, too, have
 
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 perchance suddenly grown curious about the New 
 World." 
 
 In truth neither Sir Julian nor Lady Betty had felt 
 quite easy during these years. When the first intima- 
 tion of her bondage came to her, Aveline had said that 
 Sir Julian must never know. To that determination she 
 strictly adhered, and Fulke was little likely to tell the 
 story of his own failure. To Sir Julian came letters tell- 
 ing of a home provided for Aveline in one of the best 
 families of the land, where her training in the higher 
 forms of household duties would be carried on as care- 
 fully as if still in Lady Betty's own hands. Fulke, on 
 his part, enlarged on the dangers of a trader's life, and 
 explained that by the present arrangement his sister 
 escaped much loneliness during his long expeditions. 
 At first each tried to put into the letters more hopeful- 
 ness than was really felt, but as time went on, the tone 
 of the communications changed. That which she had 
 before introduced by force, crept into Aveline's letters 
 now unnoticed, being the outward sign of a satisfied 
 heart. Fulke's news also was full of notes of success. 
 Sir Julian marked the change, and smiled over it. 
 
 " Poor little maid," he said, " the heart aches are 
 lessening, and the heart joys appearing." 
 
 When he first learned of Aveline's sojourn at the 
 manor house, Sir Julian wrote to Madam Feljer, and 
 received a characteristic reply. Madam had by this 
 time come to appreciate the maiden of whom she had 
 unexpectedly gained possession, and she knew of Ave- 
 line's desire to shield her brother. Thus it was that no 
 hint of danger reached Sir Julian. Yet he was not 
 easy. This was not the life he had anticipated for Ave- 
 line, neither would it put upon Fulke the responsibility 
 his uncle desired for him. He could never think of 
 Aveline without a twinge of compunction. Her banish- 
 ment, as Sir Julian termed it, was a standing subject of
 
 FREE TO SERVE 421 
 
 dispute between him and Lady Betty. Even the news 
 of AveHne's marriage did not quite set Sir Julian's mind 
 at rest, though it set Lady Betty triumphing over him. 
 How was he to know that the child had been given a 
 fair chance to learn her own mind? And this young 
 man? What was to prove that he was worthy of her? 
 Sir Julian had a little British exclusiveness in his com- 
 position, and he was not prepared at once to echo 
 Fulke's expressions of satisfaction. 
 
 The desire to see for himself grew steadily. He 
 wanted to set his mind at rest. At last that desire 
 resolved itself into action. Sir Julian and Lady Betty 
 crossed the water, and Aveline, in a flutter of happiness, 
 welcomed them to her New York home. For Helmer 
 had purchased a house in the city, one of modest di- 
 mensions compared with the elaborate structure that was 
 not yet quite completed on Geysbert's property outside 
 the town. 
 
 " T am not going to hide you forever at the manor 
 house," Helmer said. " I want the world to envy me 
 my treasure." 
 
 There was something in Sir Julian's attitude to-day 
 that acted like a challenge on Lady Betty. Just so he 
 had stood many a time, while he argued that Aveline 
 had been sacrificed for her brother. The good lady's 
 eyes passed those broad shoulders, and through the 
 corner of the window caught a glimpse of a young man 
 without. 
 
 "There, now! " she cried triumphantly. "It's taken 
 four years to answer your question fully, but where will 
 you find a better answer than that? 'What'll the lad 
 make? ' croaked you, on the day I urged the wisdom of 
 giving him another chance. Aye, what? He was but 
 in the puppy stage then. There's your answer. What 
 Jias he made? Do you want a finer specimen of young 
 manhood than that?"
 
 422 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Sir Julian turned his head. Fulke stood in the street, 
 looking earnestly in the direction in which, but a minute 
 before, a group of sailors had passed, most of them a 
 little less accountable for their actions, and a little more 
 dangerous to the community, than before they had 
 sought to quench their thirst and raise their spirits by 
 stronger drinks than Nature herself provided. Sir 
 Julian's eye rested on the young man, and his face 
 softened. 
 
 " You are right," he said. " The lad has greatly 
 changed. It is even possible that the end has justified 
 the means, yet truly, had I known the various steps from 
 the beginning, the first had never been taken." 
 
 "Steps, forsooth ! And who's going to sit down and 
 whine over every unlucky step, when he's already well 
 up the hill of success?" 
 
 "Who, indeed?" replied Sir Julian. "Not the one 
 on whom the brunt of those missteps came, surely. 
 You may wager she's never counted up the cost of each 
 one. And you may be fairly sure she reckons the price 
 as none too high for the result gained — the making of 
 a man of — well, one who was like to stay over-long in 
 that same puppy stage. A worthy object enough to 
 out-weigh any sacrifice, eh?" 
 
 The rich musical voice ceased. Sir Julian was not 
 waiting for an answer. His thoughts had passed beyond 
 Lady Betty to the point from which her words had 
 called him a minute or two ago. For to-day Sir Julian 
 understood, as he had not done before, just what were 
 the steps which had led to Fulke's present position and 
 character. The older man was not inclined to deny that 
 the voluntary putting of him in possession of those facts 
 was in itself sufficient proof that the Fulke of London 
 days had disappeared. The young man who sought an 
 opportunity to explain to Aveline's guardian how com- 
 pletely he had failed in the trust delegated to him, was
 
 FREE TO SERVE 423 
 
 not the Fulke who had confidently asserted his integrity 
 in the hbrary at Eastenholme. He made no excuses 
 for himself. He allowed the facts to stand out in all 
 their bare unpleasantness. 
 
 Beginning at the moment when he left Eastenholme, 
 he carried his hearer through those weeks in London, 
 when the battle was fought and lost, and filled in the 
 story of the voyage across the sea, ending with his own 
 frantic journey to Albany, and the leaving of Aveline 
 to meet the emergency alone. His voice lost its steadi- 
 ness as he came to that day when Aveline too embarked 
 upon a river boat, and as he told of her lonely wander- 
 ing in the storm and darkness. There his confession 
 stopped. He had nothing to say about more recent 
 dangers. That was another's story, and Aveline had de- 
 creed that it should never be told. It was his own failure 
 of trust with which he had to do, and he kept to that. 
 
 ** I deemed it but fair to render you an account of 
 my stewardship, sir," he said. " For long my unpardon- 
 able folly caused me fear and shame — fear for her, and 
 shame for myself At present nothing but the shame 
 remains. She has now a better protector than myself." 
 
 " Which is saying but little for the young man, her 
 husband," said Sir Julian drily. 
 
 Fulke made no answer. He had not sought this 
 interview without being prepared for Sir Julian's 
 reproaches. He knew that that mellow voice could 
 say cutting things, and he braced himself to listen. 
 They would not be harder than he deserved. 
 
 There came a long silence after he had done speaking. 
 
 " Well, we may consider ourselves failures, disgrace- 
 ful and pitiable failures, so far as our guardianship is 
 concerned," said Sir Julian at last. " The next time I 
 let a duty of my own slip into other hands, it will take 
 a stronger incentive than the buying of one life at the 
 expense of another — and better. However, we have
 
 424 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 failed, both of us. We may as well acknowledge our 
 failure to one another, and start afresh." 
 
 He held out his hand to his nephew. 
 
 " You have at least had the sense to make something 
 out of the life she gave herself for," he said. 
 
 Now his eyes rested kindly on the young man as he 
 stood below the window. 
 
 "If you have come down out of the clouds, I would 
 suggest the closing of that window." Lady Betty's voice 
 broke in on his thoughts. "Those drunken sailors are 
 returning, and their words and songs are shocking to 
 decent ears, I wonder what the governor can be think- 
 ing of not to put such pestilent fellows in the pillory. 
 Truly they should be taught a lesson." 
 
 The sailors were almost opposite the window when 
 Sir Julian moved hastily to close it. 
 
 " Surely you are right," he said. "That they have 
 to-day come into port with a captured Spanish war-ship 
 is no excuse for such ribald talk, and such offensive 
 behaviour. Yet it is best, perhaps, to let them go their 
 way. The heat of wine is in their brains, and has driven 
 out what sense was once there." 
 
 The sailors looked up towards the window as they 
 passed, and seeing Sir Julian and Lady Betty standing 
 before it, one of them gave utterance to an expression 
 which called forth loud shouts from his fellows. Fulke, 
 who had thought it prudent to enter the house before 
 they reached it, heard the remark, and his eyes flashed. 
 He took a step forward, and then drew back again. It was 
 folly single-handed to attack such a company. He waited 
 until they had passed, and then stepped from the door, 
 
 "This is business for the sheriff," he said, as Sir 
 Julian opened the window to speak to him. " That the 
 men are elated with their success is not sufficient reason 
 for tolerating such behaviour as this. I go to acquaint 
 him with their conduct and condition."
 
 FREE TO SERVE 425 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 " f ■ iRULY man's virtues are pitiably limited in their 
 I scope. That yonder sailors should fight like 
 A heroes against their country's enemies, and then 
 be weakly led captive by their own appetites until the 
 land they have so lately served has reason to be ashamed 
 and confounded because of them, is a strange contra- 
 diction." 
 
 It was the same rhythmical voice in which Probity had 
 greeted her aunt three years before. The undertone of 
 sadness had not left it, but had rather grown more 
 apparent. Probity herself was changed, yet she was 
 the same Probity. Mouth and eyes were less at vari- 
 ance than of old. The unity had not been accomplished 
 at the expense of the eyes ; they had more than held 
 their own. It was not a less beautiful face, but it was 
 softer and more tenderly human than the one into which 
 Geysbert had looked when he stood on the boat and 
 knew that with Probity his last comfort was departing 
 from the manor house. 
 
 Geysbert had never acted upon Strivewell Thaxter's 
 suggestion, and followed his cousin to her New England 
 home. But he had not forgotten her. The place she 
 had occupied did not fill up. The memory of the eyes 
 that had looked into his had not faded. Probity had 
 held towards him a unique relationship. Only she, 
 among those who now freely gave him a place in their 
 hearts, had loved him while yet he was determinately 
 sinning. Aveline had scorned him. Helmer had been 
 bitterly angry. But Probity, while not for a moment 
 cloaking his sin, rather while acknowledging it more 
 fully than did any other, had yet kept her heart open
 
 426 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 towards him. So far from casting him off, she had 
 taken his sin on her own soul. 
 
 His memory of her was tender, but he did not seek 
 her. He had enough to do to live down the passion 
 which had taken possession of him. He never again 
 grudged Helmer his happiness. Once and forever he 
 had put down with a strong hand that craving of his 
 heart. He owned his punishment just. Not only must 
 Aveline belong to Helmer, but he could never stand 
 before her other than as a guilty man. She had for- 
 given, very fully and completely. She had even come 
 to see that she had often been hard on Geysbert. But 
 between him and her — on his side, not on hers — was 
 the barrier of his own act. When his heart cried out for 
 the love it craved, he put that act before it. Because it 
 had sinned, it must suffer, and it had no right to cry 
 out beneath the suffering. Geysbert was a proud man, 
 but towards Aveline his pride was humbled. He never 
 allowed it place again. 
 
 As time went on, the pain became less acute. It was 
 pain still, but it had grown dull. He could look on 
 Helmer's gladness without that violent effort to crush 
 his own passion. The sight of Aveline did not make 
 his heart beat as irregularly as it had done at first. 
 There was no such disturbance of the heart when he 
 thought of Probity, but there was an increasing tender- 
 ness. There was no barrier between her and him. 
 When first she heard of Aveline's return, she wrote him 
 a letter which was so like Probity that his eyes grew 
 dim as he read it. It was full of compunction for hav- 
 ing misjudged him, and of humility because her confi- 
 dence in her own judgment had led her astray. In 
 answer to that letter Geysbert sent to her the plain 
 unvarnished tale of his night ride and its consequences. 
 It cannot be denied that the loving words of warning 
 and thankfulness which came in response were balm to
 
 FREE TO SERVE 427 
 
 his wound. Probity's love shone through every word. 
 Where all the rest gave pity and forgiveness, she offered 
 an unbroken, uninterrupted affection. She was the same 
 Probity who first persistently believed in him, and then 
 risked her own peace for him. He felt sure of her, and 
 the assurance was healing. Even from the beginning 
 the world would have been more desolate to Geysbert 
 if there had not been the knowledge of Probity — away 
 from him, living a life altogether apart from the remorse 
 of his sorrowful days — yet loyal to him, true in the 
 love that in her heart would never waver. 
 
 He said very little about his cousin, and presently he 
 went away to New York to superintend the building of 
 his house, and to engage in certain trading operations in 
 connection with other lands. But in Aveline's mind a 
 plan had been maturing, and when she and Helmer 
 came to the city, she put that plan into action. The 
 result of it was — Probity, here in New York. 
 
 Probity had risen at Aveline's entrance. Her arms 
 were encircling a diminutive specimen of humanity, 
 Aveline's little one, the baby Julian. That small tyrant 
 had taken to Probity at once. He must surely have 
 divined the steadfast strength of the heart that beat close 
 to his tiny head as he pillowed it on her bosom, for he 
 rested there contented. Pie was a baby of some dis- 
 cernment. He honoured Sir Julian with a smile, and 
 condescended to clutch a finger held out to him, but he 
 stoutly refused to have anything to do with Lady Betty. 
 He puckered up his face into a frown, and turned his 
 head perversely from her. 
 
 " A little wild Indian, and nothing better," said Lady 
 Betty wrathfully. 
 
 But about Probity his mind was made up. He even 
 refrained from manifesting any undue preference for 
 Aveline's arms, which were held out to him as she
 
 428 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 entered. She carried him to the window, and stood 
 looking out, her face very glad and satisfied. 
 
 " You are right," she said. " These sailors are in a 
 disgraceful state. They are in a dangerous state, too," 
 she added, as she noted the reckless way in which they 
 accosted a passer-by. 
 
 " Is not yonder the sheriff coming with your brother ? " 
 said Probity. " I trust the good man will be discreet, 
 for truly these privateersmen are altogether too ready 
 to resort to blows." 
 
 It would have required some discretion to have dealt 
 with those sailors. They were the crew of a noted pri- 
 vateer, and accounted themselves heroes. Their contest 
 with the Spaniards had been a fierce one, and their 
 elation was in proportion to the hardness of the fight. 
 Every other feeling was swallowed up in drunken pride, 
 and they thought themselves more than a match for the 
 whole city of New York. The sheriff received but scant 
 courtesy at their hands. Sir Julian, standing by the 
 lower window, grew so excited and indignant that he 
 had almost precipitated himself into the midst of the 
 fray. Lady Betty, however, was on hand. She took 
 a firm grip of his coat. 
 
 " Sit you down, and keep calm," she said. " You 
 journeyed hither to see the colonies. Now look at 
 them. Truly you did not cross the sea to come to 
 fisticuffs with offscouring such as yon." 
 
 Fulke and one or two passers-by had rallied to the 
 assistance of the sheriff, but the sailors outnumbered 
 them. There was a short scuffle, in which the defenders 
 of the law had so much the worst of it that the sheriff, 
 much bruised and battered, took to his heels, and ran 
 towards his own house, followed by the noisy crew, who 
 for the time left their other enemies unmolested, and 
 gave their whole attention to the pursuit. 
 
 " Verily the good man's life is in danger," said Lady
 
 FREE TO SERVE 429 
 
 Betty. " The governor will have to send soldiers to the 
 rescue. The majesty of the law needs upholding. Such 
 pestiferous fellows should feel the lash." 
 
 "Ah, he has reached his own threshold," cried Sir 
 Julian, as the sheriff gained the shelter of his doorway, 
 and paused for a moment to hurl the nearest adversary 
 to the ground. 
 
 A volley of oaths told that he had succeeded in put- 
 ting a strong door between himself and the rioters. 
 The sounds came somewhat softened by distance, 
 though the sheriff's house was in full sight. Shouts of 
 raillery, and language horrible enough to arouse the 
 anger of all who heard it, followed. The sailors set 
 themselves to wreak their vengeance on this last de- 
 feated foe, and recklessly attempted to batter and break 
 their way into the house. Several citizens sallied out 
 to attempt a rescue, only to be driven back ignomini- 
 ously. The sailors were now thoroughly excited. So 
 also were the townspeople, Fulke among the number. 
 
 " I am going to the fort," he announced. " This is 
 too much to stand." 
 
 "They'll have the door down, I'll wager, unless the 
 soldiers are soon on the scene," said Lady Betty, some 
 time later. 
 
 " Here come men wearing the queen's uniform," 
 responded Sir Julian, " Now, perchance, these rascals 
 will get their deserts." 
 
 " Nay, there are but two of them. Does the com- 
 mander of the fort think that each man is four-handed, 
 that he sends so few?" said Lady Betty wrathfully. 
 " It is no child's play to quell such a riot, and teach the 
 scoundrels their place." 
 
 " They wear the dress of army officers," said Sir 
 Julian. " The miscreants will not dare to do other than 
 obey them." 
 
 " That sounds like obedience, truly ! " retorted Lady
 
 430 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 Betty sarcastically, as a confused volume of sound 
 reached the listeners. 
 
 At sight of the officers some of the sailors shouted, 
 some swore, and there were those who screamed in 
 their fury. They turned their attention from the sher- 
 iff's house, and hurled themselves on these new foes. 
 If they thought to put them to flight as quickly as they 
 had dispersed their former assailants, they found them- 
 selves mistaken. The officers drew their swords, and 
 used them too. The sailors closed about them. For 
 a few minutes the confusion was too great for any to tell 
 on which side victory was declaring itself Then the 
 sympathizers of the sheriff bore quickly away a motion- 
 less figure. The cry was raised, " They have killed a 
 queen's officer ! " There was but one soldier fighting 
 now. 
 
 The riot was growing serious, and the citizens anx- 
 ious. Suddenly, in a momentary lull in the storm, 
 there was heard the sound of many feet, advancing 
 rapidly, and a body of soldiers appeared, coming at a 
 run towards the scene of strife. Then there rose a 
 shout of triumph from the weaker side, and Lady Betty, 
 in her excitement, brought her hand down heavily on a 
 table near by. 
 
 " Now they will get their deserts ! Ah, they are 
 already having a taste of it. The fine fellows are laying 
 to with a will. One of the rascals has fallen. They are 
 trampling him under foot, and full well he deserves it. 
 There will soon be others to keep him company." 
 
 The rioters surged and wavered, now advancing, now 
 retreating. It was a hand to hand fight, but it was soon 
 apparent that the sailors were having the worst of it. 
 They fought desperately, but bit by bit they were 
 driven back. The sheriff's house was clear of them ; 
 they had retreated farther down the street. But before 
 the door the ground was spattered with blood, and a
 
 FREE TO SERVE 431 
 
 blood-stained human form, that now and again writhed 
 in pain, was left as a witness to the defeat of the sailors. 
 
 Aveline stood behind Lady Betty and Sir Julian, and 
 every eye was strained to follow the combat. Objects 
 nearer home were overlooked in the excitement of the 
 fight. That was why none of the three noticed the 
 girl who went swiftly past the window, and who never 
 stopped until she stood over the fallen sailor, whose 
 moans sounded plainer to her than all the shouts of the 
 combatants. The poor wretch was sorely wounded, and 
 his life blood wetted the stones. 
 
 " My friend, can I do aught to help you?" 
 
 Probity knelt upon the blood-stained stones, and 
 gently lifted the sailor's head. She poured water from 
 a bottle she had brought, and let a few drops trickle 
 from her hand on to the tightly closed lips. She pressed 
 her cool, wet hand on the dying man's forehead. He 
 looked up at her, and moaned again. 
 
 " My friend," she said, " I would gladly help you, but 
 I fear there is little that can be done. There is only 
 One who can aid you now, and to Him, I am afraid, 
 you have been little accustomed to turning. Yet would 
 I urge you now to seek Him. You have not long to 
 live in this world — it may possibly not be too late to 
 prepare for the next." 
 
 The sailor fixed his eyes on her, and roused himself 
 to give utterance to an oath. The girl looked upon 
 him sorrowfully. 
 
 " Surely the cords of sin are strong, and they cut deep 
 into the heart. It can in no wise free itself," she said. 
 
 But she took out her handkerchief, and laid it, wet 
 and cool, on his forehead. Just then the fortunes of 
 war for the moment turned. The soldiers gave way, 
 and the tide of battle moved once more up the street. 
 Probity saw the danger. Bending thus over the wounded 
 sailor, she would, almost of a certainty, be trampled
 
 432 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 upon. But if she left him, the small remnant of life 
 would be trodden out. The few minutes given to him 
 to prepare for another world would be snatched away. 
 She stood up and exerted all her strength to draw him 
 out of the line of conflict. But he was a heavy man, 
 and she made small headway. On came the combat- 
 ants, the soldiers yielding ground slowly. Shouts, and 
 oaths, and the trampling of feet, and the clashing of 
 steel, were in her ears. Then she was hurled to the 
 ground, but as she fell she yet endeavoured. to shield the 
 poor wretch she had tried to succour. She felt the 
 touch of a soldier's heavy heel, and then lay stunned. It 
 was a man's voice that roused her. It sounded clear 
 above the tumult. 
 
 " Probity ! Dear Probity ! " 
 
 With strong arm Geysbert thrust the nearest strug- 
 glers aside. 
 
 " Stand back ! " he cried. " You are trampling on a 
 woman." 
 
 The course of the pushing, fighting crowd was 
 diverted, and Geysbert bent over the girl. 
 
 " Probity ! " he said. " Have I lost you too? " 
 
 He lifted her from the ground. Her face was bruised 
 by the heel of the soldier. He did not stop to see 
 whether or not the sailor still lived. He carried Probity 
 swiftly towards the house where Aveline and Sir Julian 
 and Lady Betty were now waiting, an excited group, 
 without the door. 
 
 " Is she much hurt?" asked Aveline. 
 
 The look he gave her confirmed a suspicion that had 
 long been growing in her mind. 
 
 " They trampled on her," he said, and his voice 
 trembled. 
 
 He carried her up to the room where she had stood 
 to watch the fray. Her eyelids had never stirred since 
 that first moment when his voice roused her. But when
 
 FREE TO SERVE 433 
 
 he bent over the white face, disfigured now with the blue 
 mark made by the soldier's heel, he suddenly stooped 
 and kissed her. Then her eyes opened, and a faint 
 wave of colour swept over her face. Nobody was there 
 except Aveline, and a moment later Aveline was not 
 there either. 
 
 " Probity, the world grew very dark when I thought 
 you were going from me," he said. 
 
 She tried to smile, but her lips quivered. 
 
 It must have been fully ten minutes before Aveline 
 returned, with much apparently unnecessary bustle, 
 and with such restoratives as seemed most useful. 
 That ten minutes had been spent in vigorous efforts to 
 keep Lady Betty out of the room. Now the good lady 
 followed close at her heels. 
 
 "Hoity-toity!" she said. "Is this how you attend 
 to the wounds of an injured girl?" 
 
 Geysbert stood leaning over Probity, one hand clasp- 
 ing the blood-stained fingers that had ministered to the 
 sailor, and the other smoothing the hair from her fore- 
 head. He laughed as he turned to Lady Betty. 
 
 " There is more than one way of accomplishing the 
 same end," he said. 
 
 It was later in the same day. The dying sailor had 
 been removed, and his companions driven off. Even 
 the blood had been washed from the street. But the 
 excitement had not subsided. All New York was 
 roused. An officer had been killed, and the law defied. 
 It was the subject of talk in every house. More espe- 
 cially was it the subject of talk in the house where 
 Aveline sat dispensing tea from a tiny teapot, a little 
 globular vessel that held scarcely more than a pint. 
 It cannot be denied that Aveline was a trifle proud of 
 her position to-day, or that she displayed the gold tea- 
 service — Helmer's gift — with something like triumph. 
 Lady Betty's eyes were critical, but even Lady Betty
 
 434 FREE TO SERVE 
 
 could not find aught to say against Helmer, or Helmer's 
 care of herself. He was talking to Sir Julian now, 
 showing himself very attentive to the older man, but 
 Sir Julian did not fail to notice that any movement on 
 Aveline's part drew his eyes towards her with a watch- 
 ful care. The mind of Aveline's guardian was already 
 at peace with respect to his ward. 
 
 Lady Betty complacently sipped her tea from the 
 miniature cup that held no more than a gill, and looked 
 from her niece to the spot where Probity, very white 
 and shaken, was being carefully waited upon by Geys- 
 bert. Then she allowed her gaze to travel upward 
 towards Fulke, who, tall and manly, was devoting him- 
 self to her. 
 
 " You might have done worse than cross the water," 
 she said.
 
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