innocent, And pride sided with modesty, and whispered, "Go no more to
Gouda parsonage."

She left little Gerard there to complete the conquest her maternal heart
ascribed to him, not to her own eloquence and sagacity, and to anchor
his father for ever to humanity.

But this generous stroke of policy cost her heart dear. She had never
yet been parted from her boy an hour, and she felt sadly strange as well
as desolate without him. After the first day it became intolerable; and
what does the poor soul do, but creep at dark up to Gouda parsonage, and
lurk about the premises like a thief till she saw Reicht Heynes in the
kitchen alone, Then she tapped softly at the window and said, "Reicht,
for pity's sake bring him out to me unbeknown." With Margaret the person
who occupied her thoughts at the time ceased to have a name, and sank to
a pronoun.

Reicht soon found an excuse for taking little Gerard out, and there was
a scene of mutual rapture, followed by mutual tears when mother and boy
parted again.

And it was arranged that Reicht should take him half way to Rotterdam
every day, at a set hour, and Margaret meet them. And at these meetings,
after the raptures, and after mother and child had gambolled together
like a young cat and her first kitten, the boy would sometimes amuse
himself alone at their feet, and the two women generally seized this
opportunity to talk very seriously about Luke Peterson, This began thus:

"Reicht," said Margaret, "I as good as promised him to marry Luke
Peterson. 'Say you the word,' quoth I, 'and I'll wed him.'"

"Poor Luke!"

"Prithee, why poor Luke?"

"To be bandied about so, atwixt yea and nay."

"Why, Reicht, you have not ever been so simple as to cast an eye of
affection on the boy, that you take his part?"

"Me?" said Reicht, with a toss of the head.

"Oh, I ask your pardon. Well, then, you can do me a good turn."

"Whisht! whisper! that little darling is listening to every word, and
eyes like saucers."

On this both their heads would have gone under one cap.

Two women plotting against one boy? Oh, you great cowardly serpents!

But when these stolen meetings had gone on for about five days Margaret
began to feel the injustice of it, and to be irritated as well as
unhappy.

And she was crying about it when a cart came to her door, and in it,
clean as a new penny, his beard close shaved, his hands white as snow,
and a little colour in his pale face, sat the Vicar of Go