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Whilst he was gone, there came by, on a mule with rich purple housings, an old man redolent of wealth. The purse at his girdle was plethoric, the fur on his tippet was ermine, broad and new. It was Ghysbrecht Van Swieten, the burgomaster of Tergou. He was old, and his face furrowed. He was a notorious miser, and looked one generally.
The future was bright, the present was Heaven: so passed the blissful hours. Alas! their innocence ran other risks besides the prison and the grave. They were in most danger from their own hearts and their inexperience, now that visible danger there was none. Ghysbrecht Van Swieten could not sleep all night for anxiety.
Margaret shrieked, and tried to protect Gerard by clasping him; but he shook her off without ceremony. Ghysbrecht in his ardour forgot that hunted animals turn on the hunter; and that two men can hate, and two can long to kill the thing they hate.
"You do know why he neither comes nor sends," said she firmly. At this Ghysbrecht turned paler and paler; but he summoned all his dignity, and said, "Would you believe those two knaves against a man of worship?" "What two knaves?" said she keenly. He stammered, "Said ye not ? There I am a poor old broken man, whose memory is shaken. And you come here, and confuse me so, I know not what I say."
It was Gerard's handwriting. "Oh, thank you, sir, bless you for this, I forgive you all the ill you ever wrought me." And she pressed the letter to her bosom with one hand, and glided swiftly from the room with it. As she did not come back, Ghysbrecht went away, but not without a scowl at Martha. Margaret was hours alone with her letter. When she came down again she was a changed woman.
Man, torture not a mother! Speak out, and quickly: speak ere you have time to coin falsehood: we know thee." Ghysbrecht turned pale at this affront, and spite mingled with the other motives that brought him here. "Thus it is, then," said he, grinding his teeth and speaking very fast.
But the ceremony was never concluded, although Gerard got a certificate from the priest, for Ghysbrecht getting wind of what was afoot, sent his servants, who stopped the marriage, and carried Gerard off to the burgomaster's prison. In the room where he was confined were very various documents, which the prisoner got hold of.
Dierich made up to them. "Too late!" they cried; "too late! He is gone." "Gone? How long?" "Scarce five minutes. Cursed chance!" "You must go back to the burgomaster at once," said Dierich Brower. "To what end?" "No matter; come!" and he hurried them to the Stadthouse. Ghysbrecht Van Swieten was not the man to accept a defeat. "Well," said he, on hearing the ill news, "suppose he is gone.
Margaret and Reicht Heynes carried him carefully, and laid him on the softest bed. "I must do as he would do," whispered Margaret. "He was kind to Ghysbrecht." Her opinion was verified, Sybrandt's spine was fatally injured; and he lay groaning and helpless, fed and tended by her he had so deeply injured. The news was sent to Tergou, and Catherine came over. It was a terrible blow to her.
And he went to a drawer and drew out a paper written by Margaret Van Eyck while treating with the burgh for her house. "Was it writ like this?" "Yes. 'Tis the same writing," said Sybrandt boldly. "Good. And now what would ye of me?" said Ghysbrecht, with beating heart, but a carelessness so well feigned that it staggered them.
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