The Cloister and the Hearth

  CHAPTER XLV

  The little party at the hosier's house sat at table discussing therecent event, when their mother returned, and casting a piercing glanceall round the little circle, laid the letter flat on the table. Sherepeated every word of it by memory, following the lines with herfinger, to cheat herself and bearers into the notion that she could readthe words, or nearly. Then, suddenly lifting her head, she cast anotherkeen look on Cornelis and Sybrandt: their eyes fell.

  On this the storm that had long been brewing burst on their heads.

  Catherine seemed to swell like an angry hen ruffling her feathers, andout of her mouth came a Rhone and Saone of wisdom and twaddle, of greatand mean invective, such as no male that ever was born could utter inone current; and not many women.

  The following is a fair though a small sample of her words: only theywere uttered all in one breath.

  "I have long had my doubts that you blew the flame betwixt Gerard andyour father, and set that old rogue, Ghysbrecht, on. And now, here areGerard's own written words to prove it. You have driven your own fleshand blood into a far land, and robbed the mother that bore you of herdarling, the pride of her eye, the joy of her heart. But you are all ofa piece from end to end. When you were all boys together, my others werea comfort; but you were a curse: mischievous and sly; and took a womanhalf a day to keep your clothes whole: for why? work wears cloth, butplay cuts it. With the beard comes prudence; but none came to you:still the last to go to bed, and the last to leave it; and why? becausehonesty goes to bed early, and industry rises betimes; where there aretwo lie-a-beds in a house there are a pair of ne'er-do-weels. Often I'vesat and looked at your ways, and wondered where ye came from: ye don'ttake after your father, and ye are no more like me than a wasp is to anant; sure ye were changed in the cradle, or the cuckoo dropped ye on myfloor: for ye have not our hands, nor our hearts: of all my blood, nonebut you ever jeered them that God afflicted; but often when my back wasturned I've heard you mock at Giles, because he is not as big as some;and at my lily Kate, because she is not so strong as a Flanders mare.After that rob a church an you will! for you can be no worse in His eyesthat made both Kate and Giles, and in mine that suffered for them, poordarlings, as I did for you, you paltry, unfeeling, treasonable curs!No, I will not hush, my daughter, they have filled the cup too full. Ittakes a deal to turn a mother's heart against the sons she has nursedupon her knees; and many is the time I have winked and wouldn't see toomuch, and bitten my tongue, lest their father should know them as I do;he would have put them to the door that moment. But now they have filledthe cup too full. And where got ye all this money? For this last monthyou have been rolling in it. You never wrought for it. I wish I maynever hear from other mouths how ye got it. It is since that night youwere out so late, and your head came back so swelled, Cornelis. Slothand greed are ill-mated, my masters. Lovers of money must sweat orsteal. Well, if you robbed any poor soul of it, it was some woman, I'llgo bail; for a man would drive you with his naked hand. No matter, it isgood for one thing. It has shown me how you will guide our gear if everit comes to be yourn. I have watched you, my lads, this while. You havespent a groat to-day between you. And I spend scarce a groat a week, andkeep you all, good and bad. No I give up waiting for the shoes that willmaybe walk behind your coffin; for this shop and this house shall neverbe yourn. Gerard is our heir; poor Gerard, whom you have banished anddone your best to kill; after that never call me mother again! But youhave made him tenfold dearer to me. My poor lost boy! I shall soon seehim again shall hold him in my arms, and set him on my knees. Ay, youmay stare! You are too crafty, and yet not crafty enow. You cut thestalk away; but you left the seed--the seed that shall outgrow you, andoutlive you. Margaret Brandt is quick, and it is Gerard's, and what isGerard's is mine; and I have prayed the saints it may be a boy; and itwill--it must. Kate, when I found it was so, my bowels yearned over herchild unborn as if it had been my own. He is our heir. He will outliveus. You will not; for a bad heart in a carcass is like the worm in thenut, soon brings the body to dust. So, Kate, take down Gerard's bib andtucker that are in the drawer you wot of, and one of these days we willcarry them to Sevenbergen. We will borrow Peter Buyskens' cart, andgo comfort Gerard's wife under her burden. She is his wife. Who isGhysbrecht Van Swieten? Can he come between a couple and the altar, andsunder those that God and the priest make one? She is my daughter, andI am as proud of her as I am of you, Kate, almost; and as for you, keepout of my way awhile, for you are like the black dog in my eyes."

  Cornelis and Sybrandt took the hint and slunk out, aching with remorse,and impenitence, and hate. They avoided her eye as much as everthey could; and for many days she never spoke a word, good, bad, orindifferent, to either of them. Liberaverat animum suum.