ld
him with all the energy of an excited woman. "You know the secret of
that which is breaking my heart. Why does not my Gerard come, nor send
a line this many months? Answer me, or all the town is like to hear me,
let alone thy servants, My misery is too great to be sported with."

In vain he persisted he knew nothing about Gerard. She told him those
who had sent her to him told her another tale.

"You do know why he neither comes nor sends," said she firmly.

At this Ghysbrecht turned paler and paler; but he summoned all his
dignity, and said, "Would you believe those two knaves against a man of
worship?"

"What two knaves?" said she keenly.

He stammered, "Said ye not--? There I am a poor old broken man, whose
memory is shaken. And you come here, and confuse me so, I know not what
I say."

"Ay, sir, your memory is shaken, or sure you would not be my enemy. My
father saved you from the plague, when none other would come anigh you;
and was ever your friend. My grandfather Floris helped you in your early
poverty, and loved you, man and boy. Three generations of us you have
seen; and here is the fourth of us; this is your old friend Peter's
grandchild, and your old friend Floris his great-grandchild. Look down
on his innocent face, and think of theirs!"

"Woman, you torture me," sighed Ghysbrecht, and sank upon a bench. But
she saw her advantage, and kneeled before him, and put the boy on his
knees. "This fatherless babe is poor Margaret Brandt's, that never did
you ill, and comes of a race that loved you. Nay, look at his face.
'Twill melt thee more than any word of mine, Saints of heaven, what can
a poor desolate girl and her babe have done to wipe out all memory of
thine own young days, when thou wert guiltless as he is, that now looks
up in thy face and implores thee to give him back his father?"

And with her arms under the child she held him up higher and higher,
smiling under the old man's eyes.

He cast a wild look of anguish on the child, and another on the kneeling
mother, and started up shrieking, "Avaunt, ye pair of adders."

The stung soul gave the old limbs a momentary vigour, and he walked
rapidly, wringing his hands and clutching at his white hair. "Forget
those days? I forget all else. Oh, woman, woman, sleeping or waking I
see but the faces of the dead, I hear but the voices of the dead, and I
shall soon be among the dead, There, there, what is done is done. I am
in hell. I am in hell."

A