CATHERINE was a good housewife who seldom left home for a day, and then
one thing or another always went amiss. She was keenly conscious of
this, and, watching for a slack tide in things domestic, put off her
visit to Sevenbergen from day to day, and one afternoon that it really
could have been managed Peter Buyskens' mule was out of the way.
At last, one day Eli asked her before all the family, whether it was
true she had thought of visiting Margaret Brandt.
"Ay, my man."
"Then I do forbid you."
"Oh, do you?"
"I do."
"Then there is no more to be said, I suppose," said she, colouring.
"Not a word," replied Eli, sternly.
When she was alone with her daughter she was very severe, not upon Eli,
but upon herself.
"Behoved me rather go thither like a cat at a robin. But this was me all
over. I am like a silly hen that can lay no egg without cackling, and
convening all the house to rob her on't. Next time you and I are after
aught the least amiss, let's do't in Heaven's name then and there, and
not take time to think about it, far less talk; so then, if they take us
to task we can say, alack we knew nought; we thought no ill; now, who'd
ever? and so forth. For two pins I'd go thither in all their teeth."
Defiance so wild and picturesque staggered Kate. "Nay, mother; with
patience father will come round."
"And so will Michaelmas; but when? and I was so bent on you seeing the
girl. Then we could have put our heads together about her. Say what they
will, there is no judging body or beast but by the eye. And were I to
have fifty more sons I'd ne'er thwart one of them's fancy, till such
time as I had clapped my eyes upon her and seen Quicksands: say you, I
should have thought of that before condemning Gerard his fancy: but
there, life is a school, and the lesson ne'er done; we put down one
fault and take up t'other, and so go blundering here, and blundering
there, till we blunder into our graves, and there's an end of us."
"Mother," said Kate, timidly.
"Well, what is a-coming now? no good news though, by the look of you.
What on earth can make the poor wench so scared?"
"An avowal she hath to make," faltered Kate, faintly.
"Now, there is a noble word for ye," said Catherine, proudly. "Our
Gerard taught thee that, I'll go bail. Come then, out with thy vowel."
"Well then, sooth to say, I have seen her."
"Anan?"
"And spoken with her to boot."
"And never told me? After this marvels are dirt."
"Mother, you were so hot against her. I waited till I could tell you
without angering you worse."
"Ay," said Catherine, half sadly, half bitterly, "like mother like
daughter: cowardice it is our bane. The others I whiles buffet; or how
would the house fare? but did you, Kate, ever have harsh word or look
from your poor mother, that you----. Nay, I will not have ye cry, girl;
ten to one ye had your reason; so rise up, brave heart, and tell me all,
better late than ne'er; and first and foremost when ever, and how ever,
wond you to Sevenbergen wi' your poor crutches, and I not know?"
"I never was there in my life; and, mammy dear, to say that I ne'er
wished to see her that I will not, but I ne'er went, nor sought to see
her."
"There, now," said Catherine, disputatively, "said I not 'twas all
unlike my girl to seek her unbeknown to me. Come now, for I'm all agog."
"Then thus 'twas. It came to my ears, no matter how, and prithee, good
mother, on my knees ne'er ask me how, that Gerard was a prisoner in the
Stadthouse tower."
"Ah!"
"By father's behest as 'twas pretended."
Catherine uttered a sigh that was almost a moan. "Blacker than I
thought," she muttered, faintly.
"Giles and I went out at night to bid him be of good cheer. And there at
the tower foot was a brave lass, quite strange to me I vow, on the same
errand."
"Lookee there now, Kate."
"At first we did properly frighten one another, through the place his
bad name, and our poor heads being so full o' divels, and we whitened a
bit in moonshine. But next moment, quo' I 'You are Margaret:' 'And you
are Kate,' quo' she. Think on't!"
"Did one ever?--'Twas Gerard! He will have been talking backwards and
forrards of thee to her, and her to thee."
In return for this, Kate bestowed on Catherine one of the prettiest
presents in nature--the composite kiss: _i. e._, she imprinted on her
cheek a single kiss, which said--
1. Quite correct.
2. Good, clever mother, for guessing so right and quick.
3. How sweet for us twain to be of one mind again after never having
been otherwise.
4. Etc.
"Now then, speak thy mind, child, Gerard is not here. Alas, what am I
saying? would to Heaven he were."
"Well then, mother, she is comely, and wrongs her picture but little."
"Eh, dear; hark to young folk! I am for good acts, not good looks. Loves
she my boy as he did ought to be loved?"
"Sevenbergen is farther from the Stadthouse than we are," said Kate,
thoughtfully; "yet she was there afore me."
Catherine nodded intelligence.
"Nay, more, she had got him out ere I came. Ay, down from the captives'
tower."
Catherine shook her head incredulously. "The highest tower for miles! It
is not feasible."
"'Tis sooth though. She and an old man she brought found means and wit
to send him up a rope. There 'twas dangling from his prison, and our
Giles went up it. When first I saw it hang, I said, 'This is glamour.'
But when the frank lass's arms came round me, and her bosom did beat on
mine, and her cheeks wet, then said I, ''Tis not glamour: 'tis love.'
For she is not like me, but lusty and able; and, dear heart, even I,
poor frail creature, do feel sometimes as I could move the world for
them I love: I love _you_, mother. And she loves Gerard."
"God bless her for't! God bless her!"
"But."
"But what, lamb?"
"Her love, is it for very certain honest? 'Tis most strange; but that
very thing, which hath warmed your heart, hath somewhat cooled mine
towards her; poor soul. She is no wife, you know mother when all is
done."
"Humph! They have stood at th' altar together."
"Ay, but they went as they came, maid and bachelor."
"The parson, saith he so?"
"Nay, for that I know not."
"Then I'll take no man's word but his in such a tangled skein." After
some reflection she added, "Natheless art right, girl; I'll to
Sevenbergen alone. A wife I am but not a slave. We are all in the dark
here. And she holds the clue. I must question her, and no one by; least
of all you. I'll not take my lily to a house wi' a spot, no, not to a
palace o' gold and silver."
The more Catherine pondered this conversation, the more she felt drawn
towards Margaret, and moreover "she was all agog" with curiosity, a
potent passion with us all, and nearly omnipotent with those, who, like
Catherine, do not slake it with reading. At last, one fine day, after
dinner, she whispered to Kate, "Keep the house from going to pieces, an
ye can;" and donned her best kirtle and hood, and her scarlet clocked
hose and her new shoes, and trudged briskly off to Sevenbergen,
troubling no man's mule.
When she got there she inquired where Margaret Brandt lived. The first
person she asked shook his head, and said, "The name is strange to me."
She went a little farther and asked a girl of about fifteen who was
standing at a door: "Father," said the girl, speaking into the house,
"here is another after that magician's daughter." The man came out and
told Catherine Peter Brandt's cottage was just outside the town on the
east side. "You may see the chimney hence:" and he pointed it out to
her. "But you will not find them there, nother father nor daughter; they
have left the town this week, bless you."
"Say not so, good man, and me walken all the way from Tergou."
"From Tergou? then you must ha' met the soldier."
"What soldier? ay, I did meet a soldier."
"Well, then, yon soldier was here seeking that selfsame Margaret."
"Ay, and warn't a mad with us because she was gone?" put in the girl.
"His long beard and her cheek are no strangers, I warrant."
"Say no more than ye know," said Catherine, sharply. "You are young to
take to slandering your elders. Stay! tell me more about this soldier,
good man."
"Nay, I know no more than that he came hither seeking Margaret Brandt,
and I told him she and her father had made a moonlight flit on't this
day sennight, and that some thought the devil had flown away with them,
being magicians. 'And,' says he, 'the devil fly away with thee for thy
ill news:' that was my thanks. 'But I doubt 'tis a lie,' said he. 'An
you think so,' said I, 'go and see.' 'I will,' said he, and burst out
wi' a hantle o' gibberish: my wife thinks 'twas curses: and hied him to
the cottage. Presently back a comes, and sings t'other tune. 'You were
right and I was wrong,' says he, and shoves a silver coin in my hand.
Show it the wife, some of ye; then she'll believe me; I have been called
a liar once to-day."
"It needs not," said Catherine, inspecting the coin all the same.
"And he seemed quiet and sad-like, didn't he now, wench?"
"That a did," said the young woman warmly; "and, dame, he was just as
pretty a man as ever I clapped eyes on. Cheeks like a rose, and shining
beard, and eyes in his head like sloes."
"I saw he was well bearded," said Catherine; "but, for the rest, at my
age I scan them not as when I was young and foolish. But he seemed right
civil: doffed his bonnet to me as I had been a queen, and I did drop him
my best reverence, for manners beget manners. But little I wist he had
been her light o' love, and most likely the----Who bakes for this town?"
The man, not being acquainted with her, opened his eyes at this
transition, swift and smooth.
"Well, dame, there be two; John Bush and Eric Donaldson, they both bide
in this street."
"Then, God be with you, good people" said she, and proceeded: but her
sprightly foot came flat on the ground now, and no longer struck it with
little jerks and cocking heel. She asked the bakers whether Peter Brandt
had gone away in their debt. Bush said they were not customers.
Donaldson said "not a stiver: his daughter had come round and paid him
the very night they went. Didn't believe they owed a copper in the
town." So Catherine got all the information of that kind she wanted with
very little trouble.
"Can you tell me what sort this Margaret was?" said she, as she turned
to go.
"Well, somewhat too reserved for my taste. I like a chatty
customer--when I'm not too busy. But she bore a high character for being
a good daughter."
"'Tis no small praise. A well-looking lass I am told?"
"Why, whence come you, wyfe?"
"From Tergou."
"Oh, ay. Well you shall judge: the lads clept her 'the beauty of
Sevenbergen;' the lasses did scout it merrily, and terribly pulled her
to pieces, and found so many faults no two could agree where the fault
lay."
"That is enough," said Catherine. "I see, the bakers are no fools in
Sevenbergen, and the young women no shallower than in other burghs."
She bought a manchet of bread, partly out of sympathy and justice (she
kept a shop), partly to show her household how much better bread she
gave them daily; and returned to Tergou dejected.
Kate met her outside the town with beaming eyes.
"Well, Kate lass; it is a happy thing I went; I am heart-broken. Gerard
has been sore abused. The child is none of ourn, nor the mother from
this hour."
"Alas, mother, I fathom not your meaning."
"Ask me no more, girl, but never mention her name to me again. That is
all."
Kate acquiesced with a humble sigh, and they went home together.
They found a soldier seated tranquilly by their fire. The moment they
entered the door, he rose, and saluted them civilly. They stood and
looked at him, Kate with some little surprise, but Catherine with a
great deal, and with rising indignation.