iness, for he had done his
duty; and he felt that, however desirous of fulfilling his vow, he could
not again leave home till the autumn, when the next fleet sailed, and it
was now but the commencement of April. Much, too, as he regretted the
loss of Mynheer Kloots and Hillebrant, as well as the deaths of the
unfortunate crew, still there was some solace in the remembrance that he
was for ever rid of the wretch Schriften, who had shared their fate; and
besides he almost blessed the wreck, so fatal to others, which enabled
him so soon to return to the arms of his Amine.

It was late in the evening; when Philip took a boat from Flushing, and
went over to his cottage at Terneuse. It was a rough evening for the
season of the year. The wind blew fresh, and the sky was covered with
flaky clouds, fringed here and there with broad white edges, for the
light of the moon was high in the heavens, and she was at her full. At
times her light would be almost obscured by a dark cloud passing over
her disk; at others, she would burst out in all her brightness. Philip
landed, and, wrapping his cloak round him, hastened up to his cottage.
As with a beating heart he approached, he perceived that the window of
the parlour was open, and that there was a female figure leaning out.
He knew that it could be no other than his Amine, and, after he crossed
the little bridge, he proceeded to the window, instead of going to the
door. Amine (for it was she who stood at the window) was so absorbed in
contemplation of the heavens above her, and so deep in communion with
her own thoughts, that she neither saw nor heard the approach of her
husband. Philip perceived her abstraction, and paused when within four
or five yards of her. He wished to gain the door without being
observed, as he was afraid of alarming her by his too sudden appearance,
for he remembered his promise, "that if dead he would, if permitted,
visit her as his father had visited his mother." But while he thus
stood in suspense, Amine's eyes were turned upon him: she beheld him;
but a thick cloud now obscured the moon's disk, and the dim light gave
to his form, indistinctly seen, an unearthly and shadowy appearance.
She recognised her husband, but having no reason to expect his return,
she recognised him as an inhabitant of the world of spirits. She
started, parted the hair away from her forehead with both hands, and
again earnestly gazed on him.

"It is I, Amine, do not be af