n there seemed something familiar to her in the sound.

After this there was renewed tramping of heavy feet on the snow-covered
ground, the clang of bits and chains, the creaking of trace, the
subdued call of encouragement to horses:

"Forward!" came a cheery voice from the rear.

Once more they were on the move; on the way to Leyden--distant six
leagues from her home. Gilda could have cried out now in her misery. She
pictured her father--broken-hearted all through the night, sending
messengers hither and thither to the various gates of the city, unable
no doubt to get satisfactory information at this late hour: she pictured
Nicolaes feigning ignorance of the whole thing, making pretence of
anxiety and grief. Torturing thoughts kept her awake, though her body
was racked with fatigue. The night was bitterly cold, and the wind, now
that they had reached open country, cut at times across her face like a
knife.

The sledge glided along with great swiftness now, over the smooth, thick
carpet of snow that covered the long, straight road. Gilda knew that the
sea was not far off: but she also knew that every moment now she was
being dragged further and further away from the chance of averting from
her father and from her house the black catastrophe of disgrace which
threatened them.

CHAPTER XVI

LEYDEN

It seemed that from some church tower far away a clock struck the hour
of midnight when the sledge at last came to a halt.

Worn out with nerve-racking thoughts, as well as with the cruel monotony
of the past four hours, Gilda felt her soul and body numb and lifeless
as a stone. There was much running and shouting round the vehicle, of
horses' hoofs resounding against rough cobble-stones, of calls for
ostler and landlord.

Then for awhile comparative quietude. Maria still snored unperturbed,
and Gilda, wide-eyed and with beating heart, awaited further events.
Firstly the hood of the sledge in which she lay was lifted off: she
could hear the ropes and straps being undone, the tramp of feet all
round her and an occasional volley of impatient oaths. Then out of the
darkness a pleasant voice called her somewhat peremptorily by name.

"Mejuffrouw Beresteyn!"

She did not reply, but lay quite still, with wide-open eyes like a bird
that has been tracked and knows that it is watched. Maria uttered a loud
groan and tried to roll over on her side.

"Where have those murderers taken us to now?" she muttered through