CHAPTER XXXIV
PROTESTATIONS
Half-an-hour later, the Lord of Stoutenburg was in Gilda's presence. Hewas glad enough that Nicolaes Beresteyn--afraid to meet his sister--hadrefused to accompany him. He, too, felt nervous and anxious at thoughtof meeting her face to face at last. He had not spoken to her since thatday in March when he was a miserable fugitive--in a far worse plightthan was the wounded man tied with cords to a beam. He had been a huntedcreature then, every man's hand raised against him, his life at themercy of any passer-by, and she had given him shelter freely andfearlessly--shelter and kind words--and her ministrations had broughthim luck, for he succeeded in reaching the coast after he parted fromher, and finding shelter once more in a foreign land.
Since then her image had filled his dreams by night and his thoughts byday. His earlier love for her, smothered by ambition, rose up at oncemore strong, more insistent than before; it became during all thesemonths of renewed intrigues and plots the one ennobling trait in histortuous character. His love for Gilda was in itself not a selfishfeeling; neither ambition nor the mere gratification of obstinate desireentered in its composition. He loved Gilda for herself alone, with allthe adoration which a pious man would have given to his God, and whileone moment of his life was occupied in planning a ruthless and dastardlymurder, the other was filled with hopes of a happier future, with Gildabeside him as his idolized wife. But though his love was in itself pureand selfless, he remained true to his unscrupulous nature in the meanswhich he adopted in order to win the object of his love.
Even now, when he entered her presence in the miserable peasant's hutwhere he chose to hold her a prisoner, he felt no remorse at therecollection of what she must have suffered in the past few days; hisone thought was--now that he had her completely under his control--howhe could best plead his cause first, or succeed in coercing her will ifshe proved unkind.
She received him quite calmly, and even with a gracious nod of the head,and he thought that he had never seen her look more beautiful than shedid now, in her straight white gown, with that sweet, sad face of hersframed by a wealth of golden curls. In this squalid setting ofwhite-washed walls and rafters blackened with age, she looked indeed--hethought--like one of those fairy princesses held prisoner by a wickedogre--of whom he used to read long ago when he was a child, before sinand treachery and that insatiable longing for revenge had whollydarkened his soul.
With bare head and back bent nearly double in the depth of his homage heapproached his divinity.
"It is gracious of you, mejuffrouw, to receive me," he said forcing hisharsh voice to tones of gentleness.
"I had not the power to refuse, my lord," she replied quietly, "seeingthat I am in your hands and entirely at your commands."
"I entreat you do not say that," he rejoined eagerly, "there is no onehere who has the right to command save yourself. 'Tis I am in your handsand your most humble slave."
"A truce to this farce, my lord," she retorted impatiently. "I were nothere if you happened to be my slave, and took commands from me."
"'Tis true mayhap that you would not be here, now, mejuffrouw," he saidblandly, "but I could only act for the best, and as speedily as I could.The moment I heard that you were in the hands of brigands I moved heavenand earth to find out where you were. I only heard this morning that youwere in Rotterdam...."
"You heard that I was in the hands of brigands," she murmured, almostgasping with astonishment, "you heard this morning that I was inRotterdam...?"
"I sent spies and messengers in every direction the moment I heard ofthe abominable outrage against your person," he continued withwell-feigned vehemence. "I cannot even begin to tell you what I enduredthese past three days, until at last, by dint of ruse and force, I wasable to circumvent the villains who held you captive, and convey youhither in safety and profound respect until such time as I can find asuitable escort to take you back to your father."
"If what you say is true, my lord, you could lend me an escort at once,that I might return to my dear father forthwith. Truly he must havebroken his heart by now, weeping for me."
"Have I not said that I am your slave?" he rejoined gently, "an youdesire to return to Haarlem immediately, I will see about an escort foryou as quickly as may be. The hour is late now," he addedhypocritically, "but a man can do much when his heart's desire lies indoing the behests of a woman whom he worships."
Though she frowned at these last words of his, she leaned forwardeagerly to him.
"You will let me go ... at once ... to-night?"
"At once if it lies in my power," he replied unblushingly, "but I fearme that you will have to wait a few hours; the night is as dark aspitch. It were impossible to make a start in it. To-morrow,however...."
"To-morrow?" she cried anxiously, "'Tis to-night that I wish to go."
"The way to Haarlem is long ..." he murmured.
"'Tis not to Haarlem, my lord, but to Delft that I long to go."
"To Delft?" he exclaimed with a perfect show of astonishment.
She bit her lip and for the moment remained silent. It had, indeed, beenworse than folly to imagine that he--of all men in the world--would helpher to go to Delft. But he had been so gentle, so kind, apparently soready to do all that she asked, that for the moment she forgot that heand he alone was the mover of that hideous conspiracy to murder whichshe still prayed to God that she might avert.
"I had forgotten, my lord," she said, as tears threatened to choke hervoice, "I had forgotten."
"Forgotten? What?" he asked blankly.
"That you are not like to escort me to Delft."
"Why not to Delft, an you wish to go there?"
"But ..." she murmured, "the Stadtholder...."
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "now I understand. You are thinking of what youoverheard in the cathedral of Haarlem."
"Indeed, how could I forget it?"
"Easily now, Gilda," he replied with solemn earnestness. "The planswhich my friends and I formed on that night have been abandoned."
"Abandoned?"
"Yes! Your brother was greatly impressed by all that you said to him. Hepersuaded us all to think more lengthily over the matter. Then came thenews of the outrage upon your person, and all thoughts of my ambitionand of my revenge faded before this calamity, and I have devoted everyhour of mine existence since then to find you and to restore you to yourhome."
Bewildered, wide-eyed, Gilda listened to him. In all her life hitherto,she had never come into contact with lying and with deceit: she hadnever seen a man lying unblushingly, calmly, not showing signs ofconfusion or of fear. Therefore, the thought that this man could betalking so calmly, so simply, so logically, and yet be trying to deceiveher, never for one moment entered her head. The events of the past fewdays crowded in upon her brain in such a maddening array, that, as shesat here now, face to face with the man whom she had been so ready tosuspect, she could not disentangle from those events one single factthat could justify her suspicions.
Even looking back upon the conversation which she had had with thatimpudent rogue in Leyden and again last night, she distinctly rememberednow that he had never really said a single thing that implicated theLord of Stoutenburg or anyone else in this villainy.
She certainly was bewildered and very puzzled now: joy at the thoughtthat after all the Stadtholder was safe, joy that her brother's handwould not be stained with murder, or his honour with treachery, mingledwith a vague sense of mistrust which she was powerless to combat, yetfelt ashamed to admit.
"Then, my lord," she murmured at last, "do you really tell me that theoutrage of which I have been the victim was merely planned by villains,for mercenary motives?"
"What else could have prompted it?" he asked blandly.
"Neither you ... nor ... nor any of your friends had a hand in it?" sheinsisted.
"I?" he exclaimed with a look of profound horror. "I?... to do you sucha wrong! For what purpose, ye gods?"
"To ... to keep me out of the way...."
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"I understand," he said simply. "And you, Gilda, believed this of me?"
"I believed it," she replied calmly.
"You did not realize then that I would give every drop of my blood tosave you one instant's pain?"
"I did not realize," she said more coldly, "that you would give up yourambition for any woman or for anything."
"You do not believe then, that I love you?"
"Speak not of love, my lord," she retorted, "it is a sacred thing. Andyou methinks do not know what love is."
"Indeed you are right, Gilda," he said, "I do not know what is the loveof ordinary men. But if to love you, Gilda, means that every thought,every hope, every prayer is centred upon you, if it means that neithersleep nor work, nor danger can for one single instant chase your imagefrom my soul, if to love you means that my very sinews ache with thelonging to hold you in my arms, and that every moment which keeps mefrom your side is torture worse than hell; if love means all that,Gilda, then do I know to mine own hurt what love is."
"And in your ambition, my lord, you allowed that love to be smothered,"she retorted calmly. "It is too late now to speak of it again, to anywoman save to Walburg de Marnix."
"I'll speak of it to you, Gilda, while the breath in my body lasts.Walburg de Marnix is no longer my wife. The law of our country hasalready set me free."
"The law of God binds you to her. I pray you speak no more of suchthings to me."
"You are hard and cruel, Gilda."
"I no longer love you."
"You will love again," he retorted confidently, "in the meanwhile have Iregained your trust?"
"Not even that, wholly," she replied.
"Let me at least do one thing in my own justification," he pleaded."Allow me to prove to you now and at once that--great though my love isfor you, and maddening my desire to have you near me--I could not beguilty of such an outrage, as I know that in your heart you do accuse meof."
"I did accuse you of it, my lord, I own. But how can you prove me wrongnow and at once?"
"By bringing before you the only guilty person in this network ofinfamy," he replied hotly.
"You know him then?"
"For these three days now I and my faithful servants have tracked him. Ihave him here now a prisoner at last. His presence before you will proveto you that I at least bore no share in the hideous transaction."
"Of whom do you speak, my lord?" she asked.
"Of the man who dared to lay hands upon you in Haarlem...."
"He is here--now?" she exclaimed.
"A helpless prisoner in my hands," he replied, "to-morrow summaryjustice shall be meted out to him, and he will receive the punishmentwhich his infamy deserves."
"But he did not act on his own initiative," she said eagerly, "anotherman more powerful, richer than he prompted him--paid him--temptedhim...."
Stoutenburg made a gesture of infinite contempt.
"So, no doubt, he has told you, Gilda. Men of his stamp are alwayscowards at heart, even though they have a certain brutish instinct forfighting--mostly in self-defence. He tried to palliate his guilt beforeyou by involving me in its responsibility."
"You," she whispered under her breath, "or one of your friends."
"You mean your brother Nicolaes," he rejoined quietly. "Ah! the man iseven a more arrant knave than I thought. So! he has tried to fasten theresponsibility for this outrage against your person, firstly on me whoworship the very ground you walk on, secondly on the brother whom youlove?"
"No, no," she protested eagerly, "I did not say that. It was I who...."
"Who thought so ill of me," broke in Stoutenburg with gentle reproach,"of me and of Nicolaes. You questioned the rogue, and he did not denyit, nay more he enlarged upon the idea, which would place all theprofits of this abominable transaction in his hands and yet exoneratehim from guilt. But you shall question him yourself, Gilda. By hislooks, by his answers, by his attitude you will be able to judge if I orNicolaes--or any of our friends, have paid him to lay hands upon you.Remember however," he added significantly, "that such a low-born knavewill always lie to save his skin, so this do I entreat of you on myknees: judge by his looks more than by his words, and demand a proof ofwhat he asserts."
"I will judge, my lord, as I think best," she retorted coldly. "And now,I pray you, send for the man. I would like to hear what he has to say."
Stoutenburg immediately turned to obey: there was a guard outside thedoor, and it was easy to send one of the men with orders to Jan to bringthe prisoner hither.
Within himself he was frankly taken aback at Gilda's readyacquiescence--nay obvious desire to parley with the foreigner. A sharppang of jealousy had shot through his heart when he saw her glowingeyes, her eagerness to defend the knave. The instinct that guided hisfierce love for Gilda, had quickly warned him that here was a danger ofwhich he had never even dreamed.
Women were easily swayed, he thought, by a smooth tongue and a grandmanner, both of which--Stoutenburg was bound to admit--the roguepossessed in no scanty measure. Fortunately the mischief--if indeedmischief there was--had only just begun: and of a truth reason itselfargued that Gilda must loathe and despise the villain who had wrongedher so deeply: moreover Stoutenburg had every hope that the cominginterview if carefully conducted would open Gilda's eyes more fullystill to the true character of the foreign mercenary with the unctuoustongue and the chivalrous ways.
In any case the Lord of Stoutenburg himself had nothing to fear fromthat interview, and he felt that his own clever words had already shakenthe foundations of Gilda's mistrust of him. Mayhap in desiring to parleywith the knave, she only wished to set her mind at rest finally on thesematters, and also with regard to her own brother's guilt. Stoutenburgwith an inward grim smile of coming triumph passed his hand over hisdoublet where--in an inner pocket--reposed the parchment roll which wasthe last proof of Beresteyn's connivance.
Gilda did not know the cypher-signature, and the knave would have somedifficulty in proving his assertion, if indeed, he dared to nameNicolaes at all: whilst if he chose to play the chivalrous part beforeGilda, then the anonymous document would indeed prove of incalculablevalue. In any case the complete humiliation of the knave who hadsucceeded in gaining Gilda's interest, if nothing more, wasStoutenburg's chief aim when he suggested the interview, and thedocument with the enigmatical signature could easily become a powerfulweapon wherewith to make that humiliation more complete.
And thus musing, speculating, scheming, the Lord of Stoutenburg sent Janover to the molens with orders to bring the prisoner under a strongguard to the jongejuffrouw's presence, whilst Gilda, silent andabsorbed, sat on in the tiny room of the miller's hut.
In spite of her loyalty, her love for her brother, in spite ofStoutenburg's smooth assertions, a burning anxiety gnawed at herheart--she felt wretchedly, miserably lonely, with a sense of treacheryencompassing her all round.
But there was a strange glow upon her face, which of a truth anxietycould not have brought about; rather must it have been inward anger,which assailed her whenever thoughts of the rogue whom she so hatedintruded themselves upon her brain.
No doubt too, the heat of the fire helped to enhance that delicate glowwhich lent so much additional beauty to her face and such additionalbrilliance to her eyes.