quiet style
of his master's address to him.

Smallbones ran up the ladder, went aft, and slid down by the rope which
held the plank used as a stage by the painters. Mr Vanslyperken seized
his carving-knife, and following softly on deck, went aft. He took a
hurried look forward--there was no one on deck. For a moment, he
hesitated at the crime; he observed the starboard rope shake, for
Smallbones was just about to shin up again. The devil prevailed. Mr
Vanslyperken sawed through the rope, heard the splash of the lad in the
water, and, frightened at his own guilt, ran down below, and gained his
cabin. There he seated himself, trembling like an aspen leaf. It was the
first time that he had been a _murderer_. He was pale as ashes. He felt
sick, and he staggered to his cupboard, poured out a tumbler of
scheedam, and drank it off at a draught. This recovered him, and he
again felt brave. He returned on deck, and ordered his boat to be
manned, which was presently done. Mr Vanslyperken would have given the
world to have gone aft, and to have looked over the stern, but he dared
not; so, pushing the men into the boat, he slipped in, and was pulled on
shore. Without giving any directions to the men he stepped out, and felt
a relief when he found himself on terra firma. He walked away as fast as
he could--he felt that he could not walk fast enough--he was anxious to
arrive at his mother's. The rain fell fast, but he thought not of his
umbrella, it remained under his arm, and Mr Vanslyperken, as if he were
chased by a fiend, pushed on through the fog and rain; he wanted to meet
a congenial soul, one who would encourage, console him, ridicule his
fears, and applaud the deed which he would just then have given the
world to have recalled.

Where could he seek one more fitted to the purpose than his mother? The
door of the house where she lodged was common to many, and therefore
opened with a latch. He went in, and upstairs, tried the door of his
mother's room, and found it fastened within. He knocked, heard the
grumbling of the old woman at her being obliged to rise from her chair:
she opened the door, and Vanslyperken, as soon as he was in, slammed it
to, and exhausted with his emotions, fell back in a chair.

"Hey day! and what's the matter now?" cried the old woman, in Dutch;
"one would think that you had been waylaid, robbed, and almost
murdered."

"Murdered!" stammered Vanslyperken; "yes--it was murder."

"What was murder,