ng
definite; there was a good deal of shouting and clapping of pewter mugs
against a table, and through it all that irresponsible, infectious
laughter which--strangely enough--had to Gilda's ears at this moment a
curious tone, almost of bitterness, as if its merriment was only forced.

Then when the outburst of gaiety had somewhat subsided she once more
heard her father's voice. Maria was dressed by this time, and now at a
word from Gilda was ready to go downstairs and to deliver the
jongejuffrouw's message to her father.

"You spoke so lightly just now, sir, of dying in a ditch or palace,"
Cornelius Beresteyn was saying, "but you did tell me that day in Haarlem
that you had kith and kindred in England. Where is that father of whom
you spoke, and your mother who is a saint? Your irresponsible
vagabondage will leave her in perpetual loneliness."

"My mother is dead, sir," said Diogenes quietly, "my father broke her
heart."

"Even then he hath a right to know that his son is a brave and loyal
gentleman."

"He will only know that when his son is dead."

"That was a cruel dictum, sir."

"Not so cruel as that which left my mother to starve in the streets of
Haarlem."

"Aye! ten thousand times more cruel, since your dear mother, sir, had
not to bear the awful burden of lifelong remorse."

"Bah!" rejoined the philosopher with a careless shrug of the shoulders,
"a man seldom feels remorse for wrongs committed against a woman."

"But he doth for those committed against his flesh and blood--his
son----"

"I have no means of finding out, sir, if my father hath or hath not
remorse for his wilful desertion of wife and child--England is a far-off
country--I would not care to undertake so unprofitable a pilgrimage."

"Then why not let me do so, sir?" queried Cornelius Beresteyn calmly.

"You?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"Why should you trouble, mynheer, to seek out the father of such a
vagabond as I?"

"Because I would like to give a man--an old man your father must be
now--the happiness of calling you his son. You say he lives in England.
I often go to England on business. Will you not at least tell me your
father's name?"

"I have no cause to conceal it, mynheer," rejoined Diogenes carelessly.
"In England they call him Blake of Blakeney; his home is in Sussex and I
believe that it is a stately home."

"But I know the Squire of Blakeney well," said Cornelius Beresteyn
eagerly, "my bankers at Amsterdam also do business