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“ I PRAY OF YOU, CAPTAIN," SAID THE LAD, “LET ME GO WITH YOU AND KILL SPANIARDS."
“ But how came it here?” asked Rose. CHAPTER XII.-" VIVAT ORANJE !”
“Would you believe it, Mevrouw?
That silly EXT morning found Adrian stiff and weary, lad Dirk went back for it every step last night
in the rain and the dark, as if he could not, at ever was quite worn out and unable to rise. least, have waited till the morning.” Little Roskě had been restless and feverish ; but, “ He could not at least have waited till the on waking in the morning from an unquiet sleep, morning,” Rosko's decided little voice broke in. she saw beside her something which did her more My Kätje would have died from the cold and good than any medicine. With a cry of rapture fright. I told him so. I said, 'Go at once !! » she folded “Kätje” in her arms, none the less “ Then you said what was very unkind,” Rose dear because the painted face was a blur, and the roused herself to reprove gravely. “ You thought tiny garments spoiled with rain. She was lavish- of the senseless poppet, not of poor Dirk, who had ing caresses on her recovered treasure, and mur- carried you all that long way, and was so tired muring terms of endearment, when Joanna Jäsewyk and cold.” came in.
But Dirk, as it happened, had brought back “ Poor child !” she said, “ she is as foolish upon something else from his midnight walk. that poppet as some people are over their idols of Adrian was sitting on the bench outside the wood and stone."
door, enjoying the sunshine that followed the
storm, when he saw before him Dirk's strong, square, honest face, with its crown of dark hair.
“ Does this belong to you, Mynheer ?” he asked, holding out a book, leather bound and silver clasped.
Adrian almost sprang from his seat. It was his private note-book, containing the priceless records of the observations aud experiments he had been making since he left Antwerp, those made previously having been deposited for safety in the hands of Plantin. He always carried it about his person, so when he missed it the night before from its own especial pocket in his coat, he gave
for lost. “My good boy, I am infinitely obliged to you ; you know not what a service you have rendered me,” he said, as he took the precious volume lovingly in his hand, and opened it to ascertain whether the rain had penetrated the stout, thick cover. Fortunately, the contents were but little injured. “Where did you find it !” he asked eagerly.
“ Beside the ditch, near the place you crossed at. It was almost in the water-would have been washed in no doubt if left much longer. Happily, just then the rain ceased, and the moon shone out, so the light fell on the clasp, and I saw and picked it up. Moreover, I heard a splashing in the field hard by, and when I looked, there was your horse, so I caught him and rode home. My uncle is going to fetch your cart by-and-by.”
“But you must have been out all night,” said Adrian, rather surprised at these energetic proceedings.
“I had business of my own,” returned the boy, and went off quietly to his daily work.
Presently old Jäsewyk came out, sat down in the sunshine beside Adrian, and enlightened him about many things. He had known the Gospel, he said, for more than thirty years; being one of the converts of De Backer, the proto-martyr of Holland, who suffered at the Hague, as Mynheer might have heard. That was a long time ago. quite young when he came here to live, with his wife and little children, hoping to escape persecution in this lonely spot.
“ Those recommended to us by our secret friends elsewhere (as you were, Mynheer) come often to be concealed, or to be helped forward on their way. Formerly, it was for the first ; since the standard of freedom has been raised again, it is mostly for the second. 'Tis the best way we can help the cause, since none of us can fight, as fain we would, under the Orange flag. I am too old, as you see.
Koos must needs stay here to keep things together; his brothers, Jan and Piet, are in England, exiled for the faith-prosperous men, following the cloth trade. My wife is long dead; my two daughters also have gone before me-one a little maid, like your Juffrouw, the other but just now, Dirk's mother. Besides my son Koos and his wife-the best of children to mehere two servants. One of them, Gretchen, is the widow of a martyr-and yonder goes the other."
Adrian looked, and saw a very lame old man limping painfully towards the cabbage bed, knife in hand. “ Years ago, at Bergen-op-Zoom, poor
Hans was taken up for a Calvinist,” Jäsewyk explained “ Because he was a true man, and would not betray his fellows, he was so tortured that he has been lame ever since, as you see. They kept him till he could walk to the stake ; but, in the end, being slackly guarded, and the jailor a secret friend, he contrived instead to walk out of prison. He was sent here for safety by our friends; and as he was unable to work, I kept him for a servant."
“It is not the world's way to keep a servant because he is unable to work,” said Adrian smiling.
" It will be time enough for us to learn the world's ways when the world ceases to hate us. And then, perhaps, the Lord may have something to say,” Jäsewyk returned.
“Dirk's mother was your daughter, I suppose ?"
“Yes, Mynheer. She married a carpenter from Asperen, against my will, though it grieves me to say it, now both of them are dead. For Dirk Willemzoon, though a good living, upright man, and very kind-hearted, was still in the bonds of Papist ry. Glad was I when the news of his conversion ca me to us; but, unhappily, the preacher who brought him out of Babylon had received the pernicious doctrine of the Anabaptists, and taught it to Dirk, who could not be expected to discern between things that differ. Therefore, while I trust he is with God, yet can we not number him amongst the blessed company of our martyrs, although he endured a prolonged and terrible conflict with marvellous patience. My Anna died soon after ; as young Dirk tells us, she never raised her head again.”
“ It was then, I suppose, that Dirk came to
“Yes. He worships with us, of course, though he always says that he follows his father's faith. Poor child! he does not even know what it is ; for all his longing is to go to the war, and fight the Spaniards, whereas people of that sect think it unlawful to bear arms at all. A strange lad Dirk is, strong of his hands, but still of his tongue. He works like a man, and can be trusted as much as any, but-save that one time when he spoke to me of the war- —he tells no one what he thinks. I wouid I saw in him more certain indications of true piety. But he shows little interest in anything, except the war and Prince of Orange.
"As for getting to Leyden, Mynheer, of which you spoke last night, you must wait until some more certain tidings reach us. The last thing we heard was rumour that Leyden was strictly besieged by the Spaniards. In any case, a large part of their army, under their General Valdez, must be between us and it."
Adrian looked dismayed. “ What shall we do?” he asked.
“What else but stay where you are?”
“ And burden you with the support of three useless people?”
“I trust God has not so left me to myself that I should call anything done for Him a burden,” said the old Calvinist. “But, beside all that, Mynheer, I owe you a good eight months' food and shelter.“
“My friend, you mistake, you can owe me
nothing. I never heard of you, till Kreutzon Sometimes she would order him to sing ; for she told me.”
had a soul for music, and Dirk a sweet voice. “Mynheer, I have but one father in Christ, the Hymns he would not sing; but he had one song of martyred De Backer ; yet have I had many in which she never tired, the noble “Willemslied." structors, and none more dear to me than M. Gille This she made him sing over and over again, until, de Marchemont. The time I went south I stayed with a child's quick memory, she had learned it all a year in Tournay, and I used to hear him there, by heart. though he preached in French, his native tongue, Thus, not impatiently, but in a kind of restful which is not mine. Kreutzon tells me in his letter pause, they awaited tidings from the outer world. what you did for him. Eight months he lay helpless These were unusually slow in coming. “Never," said in your house, and you tended him as a son tends a Jäsewyk, “even in the worst days, have we been father. Think he is now returning your hospitality; so long without a visitor. It must be because the ouly, I fear, in less comfortable fashion."
country all around us is the seat of war.” “ Did Kreutzon tell you also that Rose, my Tidings came at last. It was Christmas, and wife, is the daughter of Marchemont ?"
the snow was on the ground. Roskě had a “ No," said Jäsewyk, with a start, and a look of surprised delight.
This intelligence gave the whole family great pleasure; their guests henceforth were more than welcome. It was besides a real enjoyment to the thoughtful old man to have Adrian to talk to; for his son and his son's wife, though good and devout, were not his equals in intelligence. Rose, as soon as she recovered, cheerfully aided the women in their household tasks, and especially in their needlework ; and little Roskě was one of God's lilies, who “toil not, neither do they spin," yet make the earth a happier place for their presence. Hitherto, Dirk had been the only representative of young life in the forest house; and that only in name, for young life was dead in him-he was a man before his time. Now the light laughter of a child rippled through the house, little restless feet pattered to and fro, and a little voich was heard--perhaps sometimes too often.
It may have been as well, for the peace of their elders, that Roskě found from the first a willing slave in Dirk. Although, as his grandfather said, he did the work of a man, he was never too busy or too tired to gratify her
ROSKĚ GOES WITH DIRK TO THE WOOD TO GATHER STICKS. every whim ; to make, with the skill of a carpenter's pupil, little playthings for her; or to carry her in his arms when it quarrel with Dirk. She had asked him to take pleased her to ride in state. In return, she her to slide upon the ice-covered pond at the end assisted him in his labours by pulling up half-a- of the garden, and he had refused. Refused a dozen seedlings when he weeded the garden, or command of hers! "I hate the ice," he had said going with him to the wood to gather sticks, and to her, though rather to himself. “It betrayed my coming home radiant, with a tiny faggot and a father to his death. I'll have nothing to do with torn petticoat. Dirk soon knew the small expe- it," and he went sadly, and as she thought angrily, riences of her short life; and she was too young to away to his work. notice that he gave her in return none of his own, Roskě stood at the door disconsolate. She had except, very seldom, a passing glimpse of a happy a little stick in her hand, with which she broke the home far away in Asperen, of a dear mother and fragments of ice that filled the crevices of the a loving father, who taught him day by day as he path, thinking angrily the while of Dirk and his stood by his bench, while he was working at his transgressions. But by-and-by there came tender trade. He told her however that, as soon as he relentings of heart; and she was looking anxiously was tall and strong enough, he meant to go and for the return of her playfellow, when she saw a fight the Spaniards," and kill them," he would strange man approaching with a burden on his sometimes add, with a look in his face Roskě did back. not like to see. It frightened her.
“God save thee, little maid," said he as he came