ne, and she answered almost in the
same words:

"Son, I beg you to be silent. When I am dead you will find all the story
of your birth written down, but if you are wise you will not read."

Once he had asked the same question of his stepfather, Dirk van Goorl,
whereupon Dirk looked ill at ease and answered:

"Take my advice, lad, and be content to know that you are here and
alive with friends to take care of you. Remember that those who dig in
churchyards find bones."

"Indeed," replied Adrian haughtily; "at least I trust that there is
nothing against my mother's reputation."

At these words, to his surprise, Dirk suddenly turned pale as a sheet
and stepped towards him as though he were about to fly at his throat.

"You dare to doubt your mother," he began, "that angel out of Heaven--"
then ceased and added presently, "Go! I beg your pardon; I should have
remembered that you at least are innocent, and it is but natural that
the matter weighs upon your mind."

So Adrian went, also that proverb about churchyards and bones made such
an impression on him that he did no more digging. In other words he
ceased to ask questions, trying to console his mind with the knowledge
that, however his father might have behaved to his mother, at least he
was a man of ancient rank and ancient blood, which blood was his to-day.
The rest would be forgotten, although enough of it was still remembered
to permit of his being taunted by those street louts, and when it was
forgotten the blood, that precious blue blood of an hidalgo of Spain,
must still remain his heritage.

CHAPTER XI

ADRIAN RESCUES BEAUTY IN DISTRESS

All that long evening Adrian wandered about the causeways which pierced
the meadowlands and marshes, pondering these things and picturing
himself as having attained to the dignity of a grandee of Spain, perhaps
even--who could tell--to the proud rank of a Knight of the Golden Fleece
entitled to stand covered in the presence of his Sovereign. More than
one snipe and other bird such as he had come to hawk rose at his feet,
but so preoccupied was he that they were out of flight before he
could unhood his falcon. At length, after he had passed the church of
Weddinvliet, and, following the left bank of the Old Vliet, was opposite
to the wood named Boshhuyen after the half-ruined castle that stood in
it, he caught sight of a heron winging its homeward way to the heronry,
and cast off his peregrine out of the hood. She sa