CHAPTER XXVII
WHAT ELSA SAW IN THE MOONLIGHT
It will be remembered that some weeks before Elsa's forced marriagein the Red Mill, Foy, on their escape from the Gevangenhuis, had beencarried upon the naked back of Martin to the shelter of Mother Martha'slair in the Haarlemer Meer. Here he lay sick many days, for the swordcut in his thigh festered so badly that at one time his life wasthreatened by gangrene, but, in the end, his own strength and healthyconstitution, helped with Martha's simples, cured him. So soon as he wasstrong again, accompanied by Martin, he travelled into Leyden, whichnow it was safe enough for him to visit, since the Spaniards were drivenfrom the town.
How his young heart swelled as, still limping a little and somewhatpale from recent illness, he approached the well-known house in the BreeStraat, the home that sheltered his mother and his love. Presently hewould see them again, for the news had been brought to him that Lysbethwas out of danger and Elsa must still be nursing her.
Lysbeth he found indeed, turned into an old woman by grief and soresickness, but Elsa he did not find. She had vanished. On the previousnight she had gone out to take the air, and returned no more. What hadbecome of her none could say. All the town talked of it, and his motherwas half-crazed with anxiety and fear, fear of the worst.
Hither and thither they went inquiring, seeking, tracking, but no traceof Elsa could they discover. She had been seen to pass the Morsch poort;then she disappeared. For a while Foy was mad. At length he grew calmerand began to think. Drawing from his pocket the letter which Martha hadbrought to him on the night of the church-burning, he re-read it inthe hope of finding a clue, since it was just possible that for privatereasons Elsa might have set out on some journey of her own. It was avery sweet letter, telling him of her deep joy and gratitude at hisescape; of the events that had happened in the town; of the death of hisfather in the Gevangenhuis, and ending thus:
"Dear Foy, my betrothed, I cannot come to you because of your mother'ssickness, for I am sure that it would be your wish, as it is my desireand duty, that I should stay to nurse her. Soon, however, I hope thatyou will be able to come to her and me. Yet, in these dreadful times whocan tell what may happen? Therefore, Foy, whatever chances, I am sureyou will remember that in life or in death I am yours only--yes, to you,dead or living, you dead and I living, or you living and I dead, whileor wherever I have sense or memory, I will be true; through life,through death, through whatever may lie beyond our deaths, I will betrue as woman may be to man. So, dear Foy, for this present fare youwell until we meet again in the days to come, or after all earthly daysare done with for you and me. My love be with you, the blessing of Godbe with you, and when you lie down at night and when you wake at morn,think of me and put up a prayer for me as your true lover Elsa does foryou. Martha waits. Most loved, most dear, most desired, fare you well."
Here was no hint of any journey, so if such had been taken it must bewithout Elsa's own consent.
"Martin, what do you make of it?" asked Foy, staring at him withanxious, hollow eyes.
"Ramiro--Adrian--stolen away--" answered Martin.
"Why do you say that?"
"Hague Simon was seen hanging about outside the town yesterday, andthere was a strange boat upon the river. Last night the Jufvrouw wentthrough the Morsch poort. The rest you can guess."
"Why would they take her?" asked Foy hoarsely.
"Who can tell?" said Martin shrugging his great shoulders. "Yet I seetwo reasons. Hendrik Brant's wealth is supposed to be hers when it canbe found; therefore, being a thief, Ramiro would want her. Adrian isin love with her; therefore, being a man, of course he would want her.These seem enough, the pair being what they are."
"When I find them I will kill them both," said Foy, grinding his teeth.
"Of course, so will I, but first we have got to find them--and her,which is the same thing."
"How, Martin, how?"
"I don't know."
"Can't you think, man?"
"I am trying to, master; it's you who don't think. You talk too much. Besilent a while."
"Well," asked Foy thirty seconds later, "have you finished thinking?"
"No, master, it's no use, there is nothing to think about. We must leavethis and go back to Martha. If anyone can track her out she can. Here wecan learn no more."
So they returned to the Haarlemer Meer and told Martha their sad tale.
"Bide here a day or two and be patient," she said; "I will go out andsearch."
"Never," answered Foy, "we will come with you."
"If you choose, but it will make matters more difficult. Martin, getready the big boat."