if it proved desirable, announce that he
still lived. Even if his messenger should prove faithless and tell the
truth, it would not greatly matter, seeing that he knew nothing which
could be of service to anybody.

And so the steersman sailed away, while Ramiro, filled with memories,
reflections, and hopes, walked quietly through the Morsch Poort into the
good city of Leyden.

That evening, but not until dark had fallen, two other travellers
entered Leyden, namely, Foy and Martin. Passing unobserved through
the quiet streets, they reached the side door of the house in the Bree
Straat. It was opened by a serving-woman, who told Foy that his mother
was in Adrian's room, also that Adrian was very much better. So thither,
followed more slowly by Martin, went Foy, running upstairs three steps
at a time, for had he not a great story to tell!

The interior of the room as he entered it made an attractive picture
which even in his hurry caught Foy's eye and fixed itself so firmly in
his mind that he never forgot its details. To begin with, the place
was beautifully furnished, for his brother had a really good taste in
tapestry, pictures, and other such adornments. Adrian himself lay upon a
richly carved oak bed, pale from loss of blood, but otherwise little the
worse. Seated by the side of the bed, looking wonderfully sweet in the
lamplight, which cast shadows from the curling hair about her brows on
to the delicate face beneath, was Elsa Brant. She had been reading to
Adrian from a book of Spanish chivalry such as his romantic soul loved,
and he, resting on his elbow in the snowy bed, was contemplating her
beauty with his languishing black eyes. Yet, although he only saw her
for a moment before she heard his entry and looked up, it was obvious
to Foy that Elsa remained quite unconscious of the handsome Adrian's
admiration, indeed, that her mind wandered far away from the magnificent
adventures and highly coloured love scenes of which she was reading in
her sweet, low voice. Nor was he mistaken, for, in fact, the poor child
was thinking of her father.

At the further end of the room, talking together earnestly in the deep
and curtained window-place, stood his mother and his father. Clearly
they were as much preoccupied as the younger couple, and it was not
difficult for Foy to guess that fears for his own safety upon his
perilous errand were what concerned them most, and behind them other
unnumbered fears. For the dwelle