distrait_ and inconsistent; and, towards its
close, she became very silent. Yet she kissed her kindly, and drawing
her closely for a last word, said, "Do not forget to wear your wadded
cloak and hood. You may have to take the water; for the councillor is
very suspicious, let me tell you. Remember what I say,--the wadded cloak
and hood; and good-by, good-by, my dear."

"Shall I see you soon?"

"When we may meet again, I do not pretend to say; till then, I am
entirely yours; and so again good-by."

The ride had not occupied an hour; but, when Katherine got home, Lysbet
was making tea. "A cup will be good for you, _mijn kind_." And she
smiled tenderly in the face that had been so white in its woeful
anguish, but on which there was now the gleam of hope. And she perceived
that Katherine had received some message, she even divined that there
might be some appointment to keep; and she determined not to be too wise
and prudent, but to trust Katherine for this evening with her own
destiny.

That night there was a meeting at the Town Hall, and Joris left the
house soon after his tea. He was greatly touched by Katharine's effort
to appear cheerful; and when she followed him to the door, and, ere he
opened it, put her arms round his neck, and kissed him, murmuring, "My
father, _mijn vader_!" he could not restrain his tears.

"_Mijn kind, my liefste kind_!" he answered. And then his soul in its
great emotion turned affectionately to the supreme fatherhood; for he
whispered to himself, as he walked slowly and solemnly in the pleasant
evening light: "'_Gelijk sich een vader outfermt over de kinderen_!' Oh,
so great must be Thy pity! My own heart can tell that now."

For an hour or more Katherine sat in the broad light of the window,
folding and unfolding the pieces of white linen, sewing a stitch or two
here, and putting on a button or tape there. Madam passed quietly to and
fro about her home duties, sometimes stopping to say a few words to her
daughter. It was a little interval of household calm, full of household
work; of love assured without need of words, of confidence anchored in
undoubting souls. When Lysbet was ready to do so, she began to lay into
the deep drawers of the presses the table-linen which Katherine had so
neatly and carefully examined. Over a pile of fine damask napkins she
stood, with a perplexed, annoyed face; and Katherine, detecting it, at
once understood the cause.

"One is wanting of the dozen, moth