hysician."

"As if I didn't know that," said the old man pettishly. "But she doesn't
lie here. Bless you, they left this a longful while ago. Gone in a
moment, and the house empty. What, is she dead? Margaret a Peter dead?
Now only think on't. Like enow; like enow, They great towns do terribly
disagree wi' country folk."

"What great towns, my son?"

"Well, 'twas Rotterdam they went to from here, so I heard tell; or was
it Amsterdam? Nay, I trow 'twas Rotterdam? And gone there to die!"

Clement sighed.

"'Twas not in her face now, that I saw. And I can mostly tell, Alack,
there was a blooming young flower to be cut off so soon, and all old
weed like me left standing still. Well, well, she was a May rose yon;
dear heart, what a winsome smile she had, and--"

"God bless thee, my son," said Clement; "farewell!" and he hurried away.

He reached the convent at sunset, and watched and prayed in the chapel
for Jerome and Margaret till it was long past midnight, and his soul had
recovered its cold calm.

CHAPTER LXXXIV

THE HEARTH

The next day, Sunday, after mass, was a bustling day at Catherine's
house in the Hoog Straet. The shop was now quite ready, and Cornelis and
Sybrandt were to open it next day; their names were above the door; also
their sign, a white lamb sucking a gilt sheep. Eli had come, and brought
them some more goods from his store to give them a good start. The
hearts of the parents glowed at what they were doing, and the pair
themselves walked in the garden together, and agreed they were sick of
their old life, and it was more pleasant to make money than waste it;
they vowed to stick to business like wax. Their mother's quick and ever
watchful ear overheard this resolution through an open window, and she
told Eli, The family supper was to include Margaret and her boy, and be
a kind of inaugural feast, at which good trade advice was to flow from
the elders, and good wine to be drunk to the success of the converts
to Commerce from Agriculture in its unremunerative form--wild oats. So
Margaret had come over to help her mother-in-law, and also to shake
off her own deep languor; and both their faces were as red as the fire.
Presently in came Joan with a salad from Jorian's garden.

"He cut it for you, Margaret; you are all his chat; I shall be jealous.
I told him you were to feast to-day. But oh, lass, what a sermon in the
new kerk! Preaching? I never heard it till this day."

"Would I had been