miration. Is not that her voice? I vow, she sings to perfection And
what a singular melody! Please to set wide the door, madam."

"It is the brave song of the brave men of Zealand, when from the walls
of Leyden they drove away the Spaniards;" and madam stood in the open
door, and called to her daughter, "Well, then, Katharine, begin again
the song of 'The Beggars of the Sea.'"

"We are the Beggars of the Sea,--
Strong, gray Beggars from Zealand we;
We are fighting for liberty:
Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"Hardy sons of old Zierikzee,
Fed on the breath of the wild North Sea.
Beggars are kings if free they be:
Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"'_True to the Wallet_,' whatever betide;
'_Long live the Gueux_,'--the sea will provide
Graves for the enemy, deep and wide:
Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"Beggars, but not from the Spaniard's hand;
Beggars, 'under the Cross' we stand;
Beggars, for love of the fatherland:
Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!

"Now, if the Spaniard comes our way,
What shall we give him, Beggars gray?
Give him a moment to kneel and pray:
Heave ho! rip the brown sails free!"

At the second verse, Mrs. Gordon rose and said, "Indeed, madam, I find
my good-breeding no match against such singing. And the tune is
wonderful; it has the ring of trumpets, and the roar of the waves, in
it. Pray let us go at once to your daughters."

"At work are they; but, if you mind not that, you are welcome indeed."
Then she led the way to the large living, or dining, room, where
Katherine stood at the table cleaning the silver flagons and cups and
plates that adorned the great oak sideboard.

Joanna, who was darning some fine linen, rose and made her respects with
perfect composure. She had very little liking, either for Mrs. Gordon or
her nephew; and many of their ways appeared to her utterly foolish, and
not devoid of sin. But Katherine trembled and blushed with pleasure and
excitement, and Mrs. Gordon watched her with a certain kind of curious
delight. Her hair was combed backward, plaited, and tied with a ribbon;
her arms bare to the shoulders, her black bodice and crimson petticoat
neatly shielded with a linen apron: and poised in one hand she held a
beautiful silver flagon covered with raised figures, which with patient
labour she had brought into shining relief.

"Oh," cried the visitor, "that