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Vansittart rode rapidly home to Park Straat. Mr. Roden, the servant told her, was awaiting her return in the drawing-room. She walked slowly upstairs. Some victories are only to be won with arms that hurt the bearer. Mrs. Vansittart's mind was warped, or she must have known that she was going to pay too dearly for her revenge. She was sacrificing invaluable memories to a paltry hatred.
"Come to the house in the Bree Straat and we will tell you from the balcony," answered Foy. So they rowed from one cut and canal to another till at last they came to the private boat-house of the van Goorls, and entered it, and thus by the small door into the house.
I live in The Hague, you know. I have a house in Park Straat, and I am only at this hotel while the painters are in possession. You will allow me to call on your sister when she joins you?" "We shall be most gratified," said Roden. Mrs. Vansittart had risen with a little glance at the clock, and her companion rose also. "I am greatly interested in your scheme," she said.
"Ah!" she said to Roden, whose manner betrayed the recollection of her invitation to him, "so I have kept you waiting a minute, perhaps, for each day that you have stayed away from Park Straat." Roden laughed, with a shade of embarrassment, which she was quick to detect. "Is it your sister," she asked, "who has induced you to stay away?" "Dorothy has nothing but good to say of you," he answered.
There is no reason why we should not take a better house than this. Mrs. Vansittart knows of one in Park Straat which would suit us. Do you like her Mrs. Vansittart, I mean?" His tone was slightly patronizing again. The Malgamite was a success, it appeared, and assuredly success is the most difficult emergency that a man has to face in life. "Very much," answered Dorothy, quietly.
Wise mothers say that their daughters must sooner or later pass through an awkward age. Woman is passing through an awkward age now, and Dorothy Roden might be classed among those who are doing it gracefully. She looked at her brother with those wise grey eyes, and did not speak at once. "Oranje Straat and Park Straat," she said lightly, "cost money."
Let us look at three of their number as they crept through bye streets back to a house on the Bree Straat with which we are acquainted, two of them walking in front and one behind. The pair were Dirk van Goorl and his son Foy there was no mistaking their relationship.
Holland, unlike France, is a lie-abed country, and at an hour when a French town would be astir and its streets already thronged with people hurrying to buy or sell at the greatest possible advantage, a Dutch city is still asleep. Park Straat was almost deserted as Cornish walked briskly down it towards the Willem's Park and Scheveningen.
Foy stood up and said: "We are Foy van Goorl, Red Martin, Elsa Brant, a wounded man and a prisoner, escaped from Haarlem, and we go to the house of Lysbeth van Goorl in the Bree Straat." Then they let them through the watergate, and there, on the further side, were many gathered who thanked God for their deliverance, and begged tidings of them.
She seemed to know that all this matter of her forced marriage, of the flood, and of the end of Simon and Meg, was nothing but a dream, a very evil nightmare from which she would awake presently to find herself snug and warm in her own bed in the Bree Straat. Of course it must be a nightmare, for look, there, on the bare patch of boarding beneath, the hideous struggle repeated itself.
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