ll pain; it does seem so strange; and I feel so bright and happy,
that--mother, Can you keep a secret?"

"Nobody better, child. Why, you know I can."

"Then I will show you something so beautiful. You never saw the like, I
trow. Only Gerard must never know; for sure he means to surprise us with
it; he covers it up so, and sometimes he carries it away altogether."

Kate took her crutches, and moved slowly away, leaving her mother in an
exalted state of curiosity. She soon returned with something in a cloth,
uncovered it, and there was a lovely picture of the Virgin, with all her
insignia, and wearing her tiara over a wealth of beautiful hair, which
flowed loose over her shoulders. Catherine, at first, was struck with
awe.

"It is herself," she cried; "it is the Queen of Heaven. I never saw one
like her to my mind before."

"And her eyes, mother: lifted to the sky, as if they belonged there, and
not to a mortal creature. And her beautiful hair of burning gold."

"And to think I have a son that can make the saints live again upon a
piece of wood!"

"The reason is, he is a young saint himself, mother. He is too good for
this world; he is here to portray the blessed, and then to go away and
be with them for ever."

Ere they had half done admiring it, a strange voice was heard at the
door. By one of the furtive instincts of their sex they hastily hid the
picture in the cloth, though there was no need, And the next moment in
came, casting his eyes furtively around, a man that had not entered the
house this ten years Ghysbrecht Van Swieten.

The two women were so taken by surprise, that they merely stared at
him and at one another, and said, "The burgomaster!" in a tone so
expressive, that Ghysbrecht felt compelled to answer it.

"Yes! I own the last time I came here was not on a friendly errand. Men
love their own interest--Eli's and mine were contrary. Well, let this
visit atone the last. To-day I come on your business and none of mine."
Catherine and her daughter exchanged a swift glance of contemptuous
incredulity. They knew the man better than he thought.

"It is about your son Gerard."

"Ay! ay! you want him to work for the town all for nothing. He told us."

"I come on no such errand. It is to let you know he has fallen into bad
hands."

"Now Heaven and the saints forbid! Man, torture not a mother! Speak out,
and quickly: speak ere you have time to coin falsehood: we know thee."

Ghysbrecht turned pale