commend the taste of the thief!"

"And misfortune is sure to follow."

"Well, let misfortune and the hand go together."

"It was not so said." She looked furtively at Bronck's powerful rival,
loath to reveal to him the sick old man's prophecies.

"I have heard of the hearts of heroes being sealed in coffers and
treasured in the cities from which they sprung," said Van Corlaer,
taking his hat from the step and holding it to shield his eyes from
mounting light. "But Jonas was no hero. And I have heard of papists
venerating little pieces of saints' bones. Father Jogues might do so,
and I could behold him without smiling. But a Protestant woman should
have no superstition for relics."

"What I cannot help dreading," confessed Antonia, moving her hands
nervously in their wrapping, "is what may follow this loss."

"Why, let the hand go! What should follow its loss?"

"Some trouble might befall the people who are kindest to me."

"Because Bronck's hand has been mislaid?" inquired Van Corlaer with
shrewd light in his eyes.

"Yes, mynheer," hesitated Antonia. He burst into laughter and Antonia
looked at him as if he had spoken against religion.

She sighed.

"It was my duty to open the box once every month."

Van Corlaer threw his hat down again on the step above.

"Are you cold, mynheer?" inquired Antonia considerately.

"No. I am fired like a man in mid-battle. Will nothing move you to show
me a little love, madame? Why, look you, there were French women among
captives ransomed from the Mohawks who shed tears on these hands of
mine. Strangers and alien people have some movement of feeling, but you
have none."

"Mynheer," pleaded Antonia, goaded to inconsistent and trembling
asperity, "you make my case very hard. I could not tell you why I dare
not wed again, but since you know, why do you cruelly blame me? A woman
does not weep the night away without some movement of feeling. Yes,
mynheer, you have taunted me, and I will tell you the worst. I have
thought of you more than of any other person in the world, and felt such
satisfaction in your presence that I could hardly forego it. Yet holding
me thus bound to you, you are by no means satisfied," sobbed Antonia.

Van Corlaer glowed over her a moment with some smiling compunction, and
irresistibly took her in his arms. From the instant that Antonia found
herself there unstartled, her point of view was changed. She looked at
her limitations no longer alone, but