admit--the rogue
possessed in no scanty measure. Fortunately the mischief--if indeed
mischief there was--had only just begun: and of a truth reason itself
argued that Gilda must loathe and despise the villain who had wronged
her so deeply: moreover Stoutenburg had every hope that the coming
interview if carefully conducted would open Gilda's eyes more fully
still to the true character of the foreign mercenary with the unctuous
tongue and the chivalrous ways.

In any case the Lord of Stoutenburg himself had nothing to fear from
that interview, and he felt that his own clever words had already shaken
the foundations of Gilda's mistrust of him. Mayhap in desiring to parley
with the knave, she only wished to set her mind at rest finally on these
matters, and also with regard to her own brother's guilt. Stoutenburg
with an inward grim smile of coming triumph passed his hand over his
doublet where--in an inner pocket--reposed the parchment roll which was
the last proof of Beresteyn's connivance.

Gilda did not know the cypher-signature, and the knave would have some
difficulty in proving his assertion, if indeed, he dared to name
Nicolaes at all: whilst if he chose to play the chivalrous part before
Gilda, then the anonymous document would indeed prove of incalculable
value. In any case the complete humiliation of the knave who had
succeeded in gaining Gilda's interest, if nothing more, was
Stoutenburg's chief aim when he suggested the interview, and the
document with the enigmatical signature could easily become a powerful
weapon wherewith to make that humiliation more complete.

And thus musing, speculating, scheming, the Lord of Stoutenburg sent Jan
over to the molens with orders to bring the prisoner under a strong
guard to the jongejuffrouw's presence, whilst Gilda, silent and
absorbed, sat on in the tiny room of the miller's hut.

In spite of her loyalty, her love for her brother, in spite of
Stoutenburg's smooth assertions, a burning anxiety gnawed at her
heart--she felt wretchedly, miserably lonely, with a sense of treachery
encompassing her all round.

But there was a strange glow upon her face, which of a truth anxiety
could not have brought about; rather must it have been inward anger,
which assailed her whenever thoughts of the rogue whom she so hated
intruded themselves upon her brain.

No doubt too, the heat of the fire helped to enhance that delicate glow
which lent so much additional beauty to her face