y.

"Eli," said Catherine, still sobbing a little, "tell me, for our Lady's
sake, how our poor boy is to live at that nasty Rome. He is gone there
to write, but here he his own words to prove writing avails nought: a
had died o' hunger by the way but for paint-brush and psaltery. Well
a-day!"

"Well," said Eli, "he has got brush and music still. Besides, so many
men so many minds. Writing, though it had no sale in other parts, may be
merchandise at Rome."

"Father," said little Kate, "have I your good leave to put in my word
'twixt mother and you?"

"And welcome, little heart."

"Then, seems to me, painting and music, close at hand, be stronger than
writing, but being distant, nought to compare; for see what glamour
written paper hath done here but now. Our Gerard, writing at Venice,
hath verily put his hand into this room at Rotterdam, and turned all
our hearts. Ay, dear dear Gerard, methinks thy spirit hath rid hither on
these thy paper wings; and oh! dear father, why not do as we should do
were he here in the body?"

"Kate," said Eli, "fear not; Richart and I will give him glamour for
glamour. We will write him a letter, and send it to Rome by a sure hand
with money, and bid him home on the instant."

Cornelis and Sybrandt exchanged a gloomy look.

"Ah, good father! And meantime?"

"Well, meantime?"

"Dear father, dear mother, what can we do to pleasure the absent, but be
kind to his poor lass; and her own trouble afore her?"

"'Tis well!" said Eli; "but I am older than thou." Then he turned
gravely to Margaret: "Wilt answer me a question, my pretty mistress?"

"If I may, sir," faltered Margaret.

"What are these marriage lines Gerard speaks of in the letter?"

"Our marriage lines, sir. His and mine. Know you not that we are
betrothed?"

"Before witnesses?"

"Ay, sure. My poor father and Martin Wittenhaagen."

"This is the first I ever heard of it. How came they in his hands? They
should be in yours."

"Alas, sir, the more is my grief; but I ne'er doubted him; and he said
it was a comfort to him to have them in his bosom."

"Y'are a very foolish lass."

"Indeed I was, sir. But trouble teaches the simple."

"'Tis a good answer. Well, foolish or no, y'are honest. I had shown ye
more respect at first, but I thought y'had been his leman, and that is
the truth."

"God forbid, sir! Denys, methinks 'tis time for us to go. Give me my
letter, sir!"

"Bide ye! bide ye! be not so hot for a word!