strove to comfort her, did so in strong,
tender words, to which she could cling, as if to an anchor, in the misery
of her heart. The valiant citizen of Leyden came to Delft more and more
frequently, and was always a guest at Doctor Groot's house. When the men
were engaged in consultation, Maria was permitted to fill their glasses
and be present at their conferences. Words flew to and fro and often
seemed to her neither clear nor wise; but what Van der Werff said was
always sensible, and a child could understand his plain, vigorous speech.
He appeared to the young girl like an oak-tree among swaying willows. She
knew of many of his journeys, undertaken at the peril of his life, in the
service of the Prince and his native land, and awaited their result with
a throbbing heart.

More than once in those days, the thought had entered her mind that it
would be delightful to be borne through life in the strong arms of this
steadfast man. Then he extended these arms, and she yielded to his wish
as proudly and happily as a squire summoned by the king to be made a
knight. She now remembered this by-gone time, and every hope with which
she had accompanied him to Leyden rose vividly before her soul.

Her newly-wedded husband had promised her no spring, but a pleasant
summer and autumn by his side. She could not help thinking of this
comparison, and what entirely different things from those she had
anticipated, the union with him had offered to this day. Tumult, anxiety,
conflict, a perpetual alternation of hard work and excessive fatigue,
this was his life, the life he had summoned her to share at his side,
without even showing any desire to afford her a part in his cares and
labors. Matters ought not, should not go on so. Everything that had
seemed to her beautiful and pleasant in her parents' home--was being
destroyed here. Music and poetry, that had elevated her soul, clever
conversation, that had developed her mind, were not to be found here.
Barbara's kind feelings could never supply the place of these lost
possessions; for her husband's love she would have resigned them all--but
what had become of this love?

With bitter emotions, she replaced the casket in the chest and obeyed the
summons to dinner, but found no one at the great table except Adrian and
the servants. Barbara was watching Bessie.

Never had she seemed to herself so desolate, so lonely, so useless as
to-day. What could she do here? Barbara ruled in kitchen a