g. When life itself is so doubtful, its
pleasures and amusements become of small importance. The ample waiting
service of the maid Greta, who long ago had vanished none knew where,
and her fellow domestics was now carried on by the man, Martin, and
one old woman, since, as every menial might be a spy, even the richest
employed few of them. In short all the lighter and more cheerful parts
of life were in abeyance.

"Where is Adrian?" asked Dirk.

"I do not know," answered Lysbeth. "I thought that perhaps----"

"No," replied her husband hastily; "he did not accompany us; he rarely
does."

"Brother Adrian likes to look underneath the spoon before he licks it,"
said Foy with his mouth full.

The remark was enigmatic, but his parents seemed to understand what
Foy meant; at least it was followed by an uncomfortable and acquiescent
silence. Just then Adrian came in, and as we have not seen him since,
some four and twenty years ago, he made his entry into the world on the
secret island in the Haarlemer Meer, here it may be as well to describe
his appearance.

He was a handsome young man, but of quite a different stamp from his
half-brother, Foy, being tall, slight, and very graceful in figure;
advantages which he had inherited from his mother Lysbeth. In
countenance, however, he differed from her so much that none would have
guessed him to be her son. Indeed, Adrian's face was pure Spanish, there
was nothing of a Netherlander about his dark beauty. Spanish were the
eyes of velvet black, set rather close together, Spanish also the finely
chiselled features and the thin, spreading nostrils, Spanish the cold,
yet somewhat sensual mouth, more apt to sneer than smile; the straight,
black hair, the clear, olive skin, and that indifferent, half-wearied
mien which became its wearer well enough, but in a man of his years of
Northern blood would have seemed unnatural or affected.

He took his seat without speaking, nor did the others speak to him till
his stepfather Dirk said:

"You were not at the works to-day, Adrian, although we should have been
glad of your help in founding the culverin."

"No, father"--he called him father--answered the young man in a measured
and rather melodious voice. "You see we don't quite know who is going to
pay for that piece. Or at any rate I don't quite know, as nobody seems
to take me into confidence, and if it should chance to be the losing
side, well, it might be enough to hang me."

Dirk f