not usually taught on H.M.S.
_Britannia_.

"In two years' time the lad will be home, all being well. And then, of
course, we shall see."

"Of what rank is he?"

"At present a second lieutenant. His age is but twenty-one. The Van
der Knoopes have all followed the sea, as the portraits in this house
will tell you. Ay, and we have fought against England in our time. As
late as 1672, Adrian Van der Knoope commanded a ship under De Ruyter
when he outgeneralled the English in Southwold Bay. But since 1688 our
swords have been at the service of our adopted country; and she has used
them, sir."

I am afraid I was not listening. My chair faced the window, and as I
glanced at the letter in my hands enough light filtered through the
transparent "foreign" paper to throw up the watermark, and it bore the
name of an English firm.

This small discovery, quite unwillingly made, gave me a sudden sense of
shame, as though I had been playing some dishonourable trick. I was
hastily folding up the paper, to return it, when the door opened and
Wilhelmina came in, with her uncle Melchior.

She seemed to divine in an instant what had happened; threw a swift
glance at the blind Admiral, and almost as swiftly took the letter from
my hand and restored it to the packet. The next moment, with perfect
coolness she was introducing me to her uncle Melchior.

Melchior Van der Knoope was perhaps ten years younger than his brother,
and carried his tall figure buttoned up tightly in an old-fashioned
frockcoat: a mummy of a man, with a fixed air of mild bewilderment and a
trick of running his left hand through his white hair--due, no doubt, to
everlasting difficulty with the family accounts. He shook hands as
ceremoniously as his brother.

"We have been talking of Fritz," said old Peter.

"Oh yes--of Fritz. To be sure." Melchior answered him vaguely, and
looked at me with a puzzled smile. There was silence in the room till
his brother spoke again. "I have been showing Mr.--Fritz's last
letter."

"Fritz writes entertainingly," murmured Melchior, and seemed to cast
about for another word, but repeated, "--entertainingly. If the state
of your ankle permits, sir, you will perhaps take an interest in our
pictures. I shall be happy to show them to you."

And so, with the occasional support of Melchior's arm, I began a tour of
the house. The pictures indeed were a sufficient reward--seascapes by
Willem Van der Velde, flower-portra