uninteresting
burgher, who could lay claim to but one distinction, that of great
wealth, most of which had been amassed by his ancestors.

Now a rich man alive has points of interest, but a rich man dead is
only interesting to his heirs. Also, this Brant was one of these
narrow-minded, fanatical, New Religion fellows who were so wearisome to
men of intellect and refinement. True, he, Adrian, was himself of that
community, for circumstances had driven him into the herd, but oh! he
found them a dreary set. Their bald doctrines of individual effort, of
personal striving to win a personal redemption, did not appeal to him;
moreover, they generally ended at the stake. Now about the pomp and
circumstance of the Mother Church there was something attractive. Of
course, as a matter of prejudice he attended its ceremonials from time
to time and found them comfortable and satisfying. Comfortable also
were the dogmas of forgiveness to be obtained by an act of penitential
confession, and the sense of a great supporting force whose whole weight
was at the disposal of the humblest believer.

In short, there was nothing picturesque about the excellent departed
Hendrik, nothing that could justify the young woman in wrapping herself
up in grief for him to the entire exclusion of a person who _was_
picturesque and ready, at the first opportunity, to wrap himself up in
her.

After long brooding, assisted by a close study of the romances of the
period, Adrian convinced himself that in all this there was something
unnatural, that the girl must be under a species of spell which in her
own interest ought to be broken through. But how? That was the question.
Try as he would he could do nothing. Therefore, like others in a
difficulty, he determined to seek the assistance of an expert, namely,
Black Meg, who, among her other occupations, for a certain fee payable
in advance, was ready to give advice as a specialist in affairs of the
heart.

To Black Meg accordingly he went, disguised, secretly and by night, for
he loved mystery, and in truth it was hardly safe that he should visit
her by the light of day. Seated in a shadowed chamber he poured out his
artless tale to the pythoness, of course concealing all names. He might
have spared himself this trouble, as he was an old client of Meg's, a
fact that no disguise could keep from her. Before he opened his lips
she knew perfectly what was the name of his inamorata and indeed all the
circumstanc