The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages

  CHAPTER XCII

  IT was the day after that terrible scene: the little house in the HoogStraet was like a grave, and none more listless and dejected thanCatherine, so busy and sprightly by nature. After dinner, her eyes redwith weeping, she went to the convent to try and soften Gerard, and laythe first stone at least of a reconciliation. It was some time beforeshe could make the porter understand whom she was seeking. Eventuallyshe learned he had left late last night and was not expected back. Shewent sighing with the news to Margaret. She found her sitting idle, likeone with whom life had lost its savour; she had her boy clasped so tightin her arms, as if he was all she had left, and she feared some onewould take him too. Catherine begged her to come to the Hoog Straet.

  "What for?" sighed Margaret. "You cannot but say to yourselves, 'she isthe cause of all.'"

  "Nay, nay," said Catherine, "we are not so ill-hearted, and Eli is sofond on you; you will, may be, soften him."

  "Oh, if you think I can do any good, I'll come," said Margaret, with aweary sigh.

  They found Eli and a carpenter putting up another name in place ofCornelis's and Sybrandt's and what should that name be but MargaretBrandt's.

  With all her affection for Margaret this went through poor Catherinelike a knife. "The bane of one is another's meat," said she.

  "Can he make me spend the money unjustly?" replied Margaret, coldly.

  "You are a good soul," said Catherine. "Ay, so best, sith he is thestrongest."

  The next day Giles dropped in, and Catherine told the story all infavour of the black sheep, and invited his pity for them, anathematizedby their brother, and turned on the wide world by their father. ButGiles's prejudices ran the other way; he heard her out, and told herbluntly the knaves had got off cheap; they deserved to be hanged atMargaret's door into the bargain, and, dismissing them with contempt,crowed with delight at the return of his favourite. "I'll show him,"said he, "what 'tis to have a brother at court with a heart to serve afriend, and a head to point the way."

  "Bless thee, Giles," murmured Margaret, softly.

  "Thou wast ever his stanch friend, dear Giles," said little Kate; "butalack I know not what thou canst do for him now."

  Giles had left them, and all was sad and silent again, when awell-dressed man opened the door softly and asked was Margaret Brandthere.

  "D'ye hear, lass? You are wanted," said Catherine, briskly. In her theGossip was indestructible.

  "Well, mother," said Margaret, listlessly, "and here I am."

  A shuffling of feet was heard at the door, and a colourless, feeble, oldman was assisted into the room. It was Ghysbrecht Van Swieten. At sightof him Catherine shrieked and threw her apron over her head and Margaretshuddered violently and turned her head swiftly away not to see him.

  A feeble voice issued from the strange visitor's lips, "Good people, adying man hath come to ask your forgiveness."

  "Come to look on your work, you mean," said Catherine, taking down herapron and bursting out sobbing. "There, there, she is fainting; look toher, Eli, quick."

  "Nay," said Margaret, in a feeble voice, "the sight of him gave me aturn, that is all. Prithee let him say his say; and go; for he is themurtherer of me and mine."

  "Alas," said Ghysbrecht, "I am too feeble to say it standing, and no onebiddeth me sit down."

  Eli, who had followed him into the house, interfered here, and said halfsullenly, half apologetically, "Well, burgomaster, 'tis not our wont toleave a visitor standing whiles we sit. But, man, man, you have wroughtus too much ill." And the honest fellow's voice began to shake withanger he fought hard to contain, because it was his own house.

  Then Ghysbrecht found an advocate in one who seldom spoke in vain inthat family.

  It was little Kate. "Father, mother," said she, "my duty to you, butthis is not well. Death squares all accounts. And see you not death inhis face? I shall not live long, good friends: and his time is shorterthan mine."

  Eli made haste and set a chair for their dying enemy with his own hands.Ghysbrecht's attendants put him into it. "Go fetch the boxes," said he.They brought in two boxes, and then retired, leaving their master alonein the family he had so cruelly injured.

  Every eye was now bent on him, except Margaret's. He undid the boxes,with unsteady fingers, and brought out of one the title-deeds of aproperty at Tergou. "This land and these houses belonged to FlorisBrandt, and do belong to thee of right, his granddaughter. These I didusurp for a debt long since defrayed with interest. These I now restoretheir rightful owner with penitent tears. In this other box are threehundred and forty golden angels, being the rent and fines I havereceived from that land more than Floris Brandt's debt to me. I havekept compt, still meaning to be just one day; but Avarice withheld me.Pray, good people, against temptation! I was not born dishonest: yet yousee."

  "Well, to be sure," cried Catherine. "And you the burgomaster! Hastwhipt good store of thieves in thy day. However," said she, on secondthoughts, "'tis better late than never. What, Margaret? art deaf? Thegood man hath brought thee back thine own. Art a rich woman. Alack, whata mountain o' gold!"

  "Bid him keep land and gold, and give me back my Gerard, that he stolefrom me with his treason;" said Margaret, with her head still averted.

  "Alas!" said Ghysbrecht; "would I could. What I can I have done. Is itnought? It cost me a sore struggle; and I rose from my last bed to do itmyself, lest some mischance should come between her and her rights."

  "Old man," said Margaret, "since thou, whose idol is pelf, hast donethis, God and his saints will, as I hope, forgive thee. As for me, I amneither saint nor angel, but only a poor woman, whose heart thou hastbroken. Speak to him, Kate; for I am like the dead."

  Kate meditated a little while; and then her soft silvery voice fell likea soothing melody upon the air. "My poor sister hath a sorrow thatriches cannot heal. Give her time, Ghysbrecht; 'tis not in nature sheshould forgive thee all. Her boy is fatherless; and she is neither maid,wife, nor widow; and the blow fell but two days syne, that laid herheart a bleeding."

  A single heavy sob from Margaret was the comment to these words.

  "Therefore, give her time! And, ere thou diest, she will forgive theeall, ay, even to pleasure me, that haply shall not be long behind thee,Ghysbrecht. Meantime, we, whose wounds be sore, but not so deep ashers, do pardon thee, a penitent and a dying man; and I, for one, willpray for thee from this hour; go in peace!"

  Their little oracle had spoken; it was enough. Eli even invited him tobreak a manchet and drink a stoup of wine to give him heart for hisjourney.

  But Ghysbrecht declined, and said what he had done was a cordial to him."Man seeth but a little way before him, neighbour. This land I clung soto it was a bed of nettles to me all the time. 'Tis gone; and I feelhappier and livelier like for the loss on't."

  He called his men and they lifted him into the litter.

  When he was gone Catherine gloated over the money. She had never seen somuch together, and was almost angry with Margaret, for "sitting outthere like an image." And she dilated on the advantages of money.

  And she teased Margaret till at last she prevailed on her to come andlook at it.

  "Better let her be, mother," said Kate. "How can she relish gold, with aheart in her bosom liker lead?" But Catherine persisted.

  The result was, Margaret looked down at all her wealth, with wonderingeyes. Then suddenly wrung her hands and cried with piercing anguish,"TOO LATE! TOO LATE!"

  And shook off her leaden despondency, only to go into strong hystericsover the wealth that came too late to be shared with him she loved.

  A little of this gold, a portion of this land, a year or two ago, whenit was as much her own as now; and Gerard would have never left her sidefor Italy or any other place.

  Too late! Too late!