r at the feebleness of his memory,
while there was no attempt on his part to exculpate himself from the
damning charge. That it was he who had furnished funds for the proposed
murder and mutiny, knowing the purpose to which they were to be applied,
was proved beyond all cavil and fully avowed by him.

On the 28th May, he, Korenwinder, and van Dyk were notified that they
were to appear next day in the courthouse to hear their sentence, which
would immediately afterwards be executed.

That night his mother, wife, and son paid him a long visit of farewell in
his prison. The Gevangen Poort of the Hague, an antique but mean building
of brown brick and commonplace aspect, still stands in one of the most
public parts of the city. A gloomy archway, surmounted by windows grimly
guarded by iron lattice-work, forms the general thoroughfare from the
aristocratic Plaats and Kneuterdyk and Vyverberg to the inner court of
the ancient palace. The cells within are dark, noisome, and dimly
lighted, and even to this day the very instruments of torture, used in
the trials of these and other prisoners, may be seen by the curious. Half
a century later the brothers de Witt were dragged from this prison to be
literally torn to pieces by an infuriated mob.

The misery of that midnight interview between the widow of Barneveld, her
daughter-in-law, and the condemned son and husband need not be described.
As the morning approached, the gaoler warned the matrons to take their
departure that the prisoner might sleep.

"What a woful widow you will be," said Groeneveld to his wife, as she
sank choking with tears upon the ground. The words suddenly aroused in
her the sense of respect for their name.

"At least for all this misery endured," she said firmly, "do me enough
honour to die like a gentleman." He promised it. The mother then took
leave of the son, and History drops a decorous veil henceforth over the
grief-stricken form of Mary of Barneveld.

Next morning the life-guards of the Stadholder and other troops were
drawn up in battle-array in the outer and inner courtyard of the supreme
tribunal and palace. At ten o'clock Groeneveld came forth from the
prison. The Stadholder had granted as a boon to the family that he might
be neither fettered nor guarded as he walked to the tribunal. The
prisoner did not forget his parting promise to his wife. He appeared
full-dressed in velvet cloak and plumed hat, with rapier by his side,
walking calmly th