her, and she mourned over them as women mourn in such
extremities. She kissed the words with passionate love; she vowed, amid
her broken ejaculations of tenderness, to be faithful to him if he
lived, to be faithful to his memory if he died. She never thought of
Neil; or, if she did, it was with an anger that frightened her. In the
full tide of her anguish, Lysbet stood at the door. She heard the
inarticulate words of woe, and her heart ached for her child. She had
followed her to give her comfort, to weep with her; but she felt that
hour that Katherine was no more a child to be soothed with her mother's
kiss. She had become a woman, and a woman's sorrow had found her.

[Illustration: Oh, how she wept!]

It was near ten o'clock when Joris came home. His face was troubled, his
clothing disarranged and blood-stained; and Lysbet never remembered to
have seen him so completely exhausted. "Bram is with Neil," he said; "he
will not be home."

"And thou?"

"I helped them carry--the other. To the 'King's Arms' we took him. A
strong man was needed until their work the surgeons had done. I stayed;
that is all."

"Live will he?"

"His right lung is pierced clean through. A bad wound in the throat he
has. At death's door is he, from loss of the blood. But then, youth he
has, and a great spirit, and hope. I wish not for his death, my God
knows."

"Neil, what of him?"

"Unconscious he was when I left him at his home. I stayed not there. His
father and his mother were by his side; Bram also. Does Katherine know?"

"She knows."

"How then?"

"O Joris, if in her room thou could have heard her crying! My heart for
her aches, the sorrowful one!"

"See, then, that this lesson she miss not. It is a hard one, but learn
it she must. If thy love would pass it by, think this, for her good it
is. Many bitter things are in it. What unkind words will now be said!
Also, my share in the matter I must tell in the kirk session; and
Dominie de Ronde is not one slack in giving the reproof. With our own
people a disgrace it will be counted. Can I not hear Van Vleek grumble,
'Well, now, I hope Joris Van Heemskirk has had enough of his fine
English company;' and Elder Brouwer will say, 'He must marry his
daughter to an Englishman; and, see, what has come of it;' and that evil
old woman, Madam Van Corlaer, will shake her head and whisper, 'Yes,
neighbours, and depend upon it, the girl is of a light mind and bad
morals, and it is her fault;