ed Philip; "but
let him be quick, for the flames are bursting out again."

The door was opened by the trembling hands of Mynheer Poots, who then
made a hasty retreat upstairs. The truth of what Philip had said was
then apparent. Many were the buckets of water which he was obliged to
fetch before the fire was quite subdued; but during his exertions
neither the daughter nor the father made their appearance.

When all was safe, Philip closed the door, and again looked up at the
window. The fair girl made her appearance, and Philip, with a low
obeisance, assured her that there was then no danger.

"I thank you, sir," replied she--"I thank you much. Your conduct,
although hasty at the first, has yet been most considerate."

"Assure your father, maiden, that all animosity on my part hath ceased,
and that in a few days I will call and satisfy the demand he hath
against me."

The window closed, and Philip, more excited but with feelings altogether
different from those with which he had set out, looked at it for a
minute, and then bent his steps to his own cottage.

CHAPTER THREE.

The discovery of the beautiful daughter of Mynheer Poots had made a
strong impression upon Philip Vanderdecken, and now he had another
excitement to combine with those which already overcharged his bosom.
He arrived at his own house, went upstairs, and threw himself on the bed
from which he had been roused by Mynheer Poots. At first, he recalled
to his mind the scene we have just described, painted in his imagination
the portrait of the fair girl, her eyes, her expression, her silver
voice, and the words which she had uttered; but her pleasing image was
soon chased away by the recollection that his mother's corpse lay in the
adjoining chamber, and that his father's secret was hidden in the room
below.

The funeral was to take place the next morning, and Philip, who, since
his meeting with the daughter of Mynheer Poots, appeared even to himself
not so anxious for immediate examination of the room, resolved that he
would not open it until after the melancholy ceremony. With this
resolution he fell asleep; and, exhausted with bodily and mental
excitement, he did not wake until the next morning, when he was summoned
by the priest to assist at the funeral rites. In an hour all was over;
the crowd dispersed, and Philip, returning to the cottage, bolted the
door that he might not be interrupted, and felt happy that he was alone.

There