wife released herself, retreated a step and said
beseechingly:
"Let me go, Peter, I cannot; I need time to overcome this."
He let his arms fall and gazed mournfully into her face, but she turned
away and silently left the room. Peter Van der Werff did not follow her,
but went quietly into his study and strove to reflect upon many things,
that concerned his office, but his thoughts constantly reverted to
Maria. His love oppressed him as if it were a crime, and he seemed to
himself like a courier, who gathers flowers by the way-side and in this
idling squanders time and forgets the object of his mission. His heart
felt unspeakably heavy and sad, and it seemed almost like a deliverance
when, just before midnight, the bell in the Tower of Pancratius raised
its evilboding voice. In danger, he knew, he would feel and think of
nothing except what duty required of him, so with renewed strength he
took his hat from the hook and left the house with a steady step.
In the street he met Junker Van Duivenvoorde, who summoned him to the
Hohenort Gate, before which a body of Englishmen had again appeared; a
few brave soldiers who, in a fierce, bloody combat, had held Alfen and
the Gouda sluice against the Spaniards until their powder was exhausted
and necessity compelled them to yield or seek safety in flight. The
burgomaster followed the officer and ordered the gates to be opened
to the brave soldiers. They were twenty in number, among them the
Netherland Captain Van der Iaen, and a Young German officer. Peter
commanded, that they should have shelter for the night in the town-hall
and the guard-house at the gate. The next morning suitable quarters
would be found for them in the houses of the citizens. Janus Dousa
invited the captain to lodge with him, the German went to Aquanus's
tavern. All were ordered to report to the burgomaster at noon the next
day, to be assigned to quarters and enrolled among the volunteer troops.
The ringing of the alarm-bell in the tower also disturbed the night's
rest of the ladies in the Van der Werff household. Barbara sought Maria,
and neither returned to their rooms until they had learned the cause of
the ringing and soothed Henrica.
Maria could not sleep. Her husband's purpose of separating from her
during the impending danger, had stirred her whole soul, wounded her
to the inmost depths of her heart. She felt humiliated, and, if not
misunderstood, at least unappreciated by the man for whose sa
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