an attempt to imitate the style of the First French Empire. There was
only one sofa in the house, and one armchair a la Voltaire, in which
Miss Roselaer reposed herself for just one hour after dinner every
day. She must have been a clever, active woman up to the very last.

"She was always making up her accounts or writing," said her maid,
"when she was not either reading or knitting."

"And what did she read?" I asked.

"Mostly 'unbelieving books'--those in the bookcase there; sometimes,
but very seldom, the Bible."

The "unbelieving books" were French, German, and English classics. I
pointed out to Van Beek that I should like to possess this small
but well-selected library. All the books are beautifully though not
showily bound, and they bear marks of assiduous reading. Among the
"unbelieving books" are the works of Fenelon, Bossuet, and Pascal,
peacefully assorted with those of Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists,
whilst Lavater, Gellert, Lessing, and Klopstock find a place by the
side of Goethe and Schiller, and the plays of Iffland and Kotzebue.

This was the first moment of unalloyed pleasure I have felt since I
came into my fortune, when I once more cast my eyes over the library
and beheld it with all the pride of ownership. I involuntarily put
forth my hand to snatch up one of the volumes, as if I thereby wished
to signify I was taking possession. Van Beek smiled and twinkled his
cunning little eyes; but the maid, who was standing by, looked at me
as though I had committed a sacrilege.

"I should rather have thought the Jonker would have preferred my
lady's Bible," she said.

"I should certainly like the Bible as well as the other books,
Mrs. Jones--that is to say, unless you wish to keep it yourself as
a memento."

"Oh no, Jonker! such a worldly, new-fashioned book I would not have
in my possession. I can't look upon it as God's word; and I could
never understand how my lady found edification in it."

"What's the matter with the Bible?" I asked Van Beek as we left
the house.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. It is an ordinary States-Bible, only
not printed in the old-fashioned German type." [2]

Upon my word, I thought aunt must indeed have been pretty
liberal-minded to have put up with so bigoted a servant for so
many years.

The next day I set out for the small town of Zutphen, which is within
an easy drive of the Castle de Werve.

CHAPTER VIII.

Castle de Werve, April, 1861.