s they went staggering and roaring down the street with him,
and carried him at great risk of another fall to the shop in the Hoog
Straet. For he had babbled his own shame all over the place.

As soon as he saw Margaret he hiccupped out, "Here is the doctor that
cures all hurts, a bonny lass." He also bade her observe he bore her no
malice, for he was paying her a visit sore against his will. "Wherefore,
prithee send away these drunkards, and let you and me have t'other
glass, to drown all unkindness."

All this time Margaret was pale and red by turns at sight of her enemy
and at his insolence; but one of the men whispered what had happened,
and a streaky something in Sybrandt's face arrested her attention.

"And he cannot stand up, say you?"

"A couldn't just now. Try, comrade! Be a man now!"

"I am a better man than thou," roared Sybrandt. "I'll stand up and fight
ye all for a crown."

He started to his feet, and instantly rolled into his attendant's arms
with a piteous groan. He then began to curse his boon companions, and
declare they had stolen away his legs. "He could feel nothing below the
waist."

"Alas, poor wretch," said Margaret. She turned very gravely to the men,
and said, "Leave him here. And if you have brought him to this, go on
your knees, for you have spoiled him for life. He will never walk again;
his back is broken."

The drunken man caught these words, and the foolish look of intoxication
fled, and a glare of anguish took its place. "The curse," he groaned;
"the curse!"

Margaret and Reicht Heynes carried him carefully, and laid him on the
softest bed.

"I must do as he would do," whispered Margaret. "He was kind to
Ghysbrecht."

Her opinion was verified, Sybrandt's spine was fatally injured; and
he lay groaning and helpless, fed and tended by her he had so deeply
injured.

The news was sent to Tergou, and Catherine came over.

It was a terrible blow to her. Moreover, she accused herself as the
cause. "Oh, false wife; oh, weak mother," she cried, "I am rightly
punished for my treason to my poor Eli."

She sat for hours at a time by his bedside rocking herself in silence,
and was never quite herself again; and the first grey hairs began to
come in her poor head from that hour.

As for Sybrandt, all his cry was now for Gerard, He used to whine
to Margaret like a suffering hound, "Oh, sweet Margaret, oh, bonny
Margaret, for our Lady's sake find Gerard, and bid him take his curse
of