ve
got a letter, and if she and hers would hear it, I am their servant; let
them say their hour, and I'll seat them as best I can, and welcome them
as best I may."

Denys went off to Catherine with this good news. He found the family at
dinner, and told them there was a long letter from Gerard. Then in the
midst of the joy this caused, he said, "And her heart is softened, and
she will read it to you herself; you are to choose your own time."

"What does she think there are none can read but her?" asked Catherine.
"Let her send the letter and we will read it."

"Nay, but, mother," objected little Kate; "mayhap she cannot bear to
part it from her hand; she loves him dearly."

"What, thinks she we shall steal it?"

Cornelis suggested that she would fain wedge herself into the family by
means of this letter.

Denys cast a look of scorn on the speaker. "There spoke a bad heart,"
said he. "La camarade hates you all like poison. Oh, mistake me not,
dame; I defend her not, but so 'tis; yet maugre her spleen at a word
from Gerard she proffers to read you his letter with her own pretty
mouth, and hath a voice like honey--sure 'tis a fair proffer."

"'Tis so, mine honest soldier," said the father of the family, "and
merits a civil reply, therefore hold your whisht ye that be women, and
I shall answer her. Tell her I, his father, setting aside all past
grudges, do for this grace thank her, and would she have double thanks,
let her send my son's letter by thy faithful hand, the which will I
read to his flesh and blood, and will then to her so surely and faithful
return, as I am Eli a Dierich a William a Luke, free burgher of Tergou,
like my forbears, and like them, a man of my word."

"Ay, and a man who is better than his word," cried Catherine; "the only
one I ever did foregather."

"Hold thy peace, wife."

"Art a man of sense, Eli, a dirk, a chose, a chose(1),"' shouted Denys.
"The she-comrade will be right glad to obey Gerard and yet not face you
all, whom she hates as wormwood, saving your presence. Bless ye, the
world hath changed, she is all submission to-day: 'obedience is honey,'
quoth she; and in sooth 'tis a sweetmeat she cannot but savour, eating
so little on't, for what with her fair face, and her mellow tongue; and
what wi' flying in fits and terrifying us that be soldiers to death, an
we thwart her; and what wi' chiding us one while, and petting us like
lambs t' other, she hath made two of the crawlingest s