and, at our
summons hence, to feel that we have hopes of bliss hereafter?"

"Most true, holy father," replied Philip, musing.

"I have but a few years to live," continued the old man, "and God knows
I shall quit this world without reluctance."

"And so could I," replied Philip.

"_You_, my son!--no. You are young, and should be full of hopes. You
have still to do your duty in that station to which it shall please God
to call you."

"I know that I have a duty to perform," replied Philip. "Father, the
night air is too keen for one so aged as you. Retire to your bed, and
leave me to my watch and my own thoughts."

"I will, my son; may Heaven guard you! Take an old man's blessing.
Good night."

"Good night," replied Philip, glad to be alone. "Shall I confess all to
him?" thought Philip. "I feel I could confess to him--but no. I would
not to Father Seysen--why to him? I should put myself in his power, and
he might order me--No, no! my secret is my own. I need no advisers."
And Philip pulled out the relic from his bosom, and put it reverently to
his lips.

The Batavia waited a few days at St. Helena, and then continued her
voyage. In six weeks Philip again found himself at anchor in the Zuyder
Zee, and having the captain's permission, he immediately set off for his
own home, taking with him the old Portuguese priest, _Mathias_, with
whom he had formed a great intimacy, and to whom he had offered his
protection for the time he might wish to remain in the Low Countries.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

"Far be it from me to wish to annoy you, my son," said Father Mathias,
as with difficulty he kept pace with the rapid strides of Philip, who
was now within a quarter of a mile of his home; "but still, recollect
that this is but a transitory world, and that much time has elapsed
since you quitted this spot. For that reason, I would fain desire you,
if possible, to check these bounding aspirations after happiness, these
joyful anticipations in which you have indulged since we quitted the
vessel. I hope and trust in the mercy of God, that all will be right,
and that in a few minutes you will be in the arms of your much-loved
wife; but still, in proportion as you allow your hopes to be raised, so
will you inevitably have them crushed should disappointment cross your
path. At Flushing we were told that there has been a dreadful
visitation in this land, and death may not have spared even one so young
and fair."

"Le