The verger on guard at the west door had quietly dropped to sleep. Hedid not wake apparently when Jongejuffrouw Beresteyn slipped past himand out through the door.
Beresteyn followed close on his sister's heels. He touched her shoulderjust as she stood outside the portal, wrapping her fur cloak more snuglyover her shoulders and looking round her, anxious where to find herservants.
"'Tis late for you to be out this night, Gilda," he said, "and alone."
"I am only alone for the moment," she replied quietly. "Maria and Jakoband Piet are waiting for me at the north door. I did not know it wouldbe closed."
"But why are you so late?"
"I stayed in church after the service."
"But why?" he insisted more impatiently.
"I could not pray during service," she said. "My thoughts wandered. Iwanted to be alone for a few moments with God."
"Did you not know then that you were not alone?"
"No. Not at first."
"But ... afterwards...?"
"Your voice, Nicolaes, struck on my ear. I did not want to hear. Iwanted to pray."
"Yet you listened?"
"No. I did not wish to listen."
"But you heard?"
She gave no actual reply, but he could see her profile straight andwhite, the curved lips firmly pressed together, the brow slightlypuckered, and from the expression of her face and of her whole attitude,he knew that she had heard.
He drew in his breath, like one who has received a blow and has not yetrealized how deeply it would hurt. His right hand which was resting onhis hip tore at the cloth of his doublet, else mayhap it would alreadyhave wandered to the hilt of his sword.
He had expected it of course. Already when he saw Gilda gliding out ofthe shadows with that awed, tense expression on her face, he knew thatshe must have heard ... something at least ... something that hadhorrified her to the soul.
But now of course there was no longer any room for doubt. She had heardeverything and the question was what that knowledge, lodged in herbrain, might mean to him and to his friends.
Just for a moment the frozen, misty atmosphere took on a reddish hue,his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, a cold sweat broke out uponhis forehead.
He looked around him furtively, fearfully, wondering whence came thathideous, insinuating whisper which was freezing the marrow in his bones.No doubt that had she spoken then, had she reproached or adjured, hewould have found it impossible to regain mastery over himself. But shelooked so unimpassioned, so still, so detached, that self-control cameback to him, and for the moment she was safe.
"Will you tell me what you did hear?" he asked after awhile, withseeming calm, though he felt as if his words must choke him, and heranswer strike him dead.
"I heard," she said, speaking very slowly and very quietly, "that theLord of Stoutenburg has returned, and is trying to drag you and othersinto iniquity to further his own ambitious schemes."
"You wrong him there, Gilda. The Lord of Stoutenburg has certain wrongsto avenge which cry aloud to Heaven."
"We will not argue about that, Nicolaes," she said coldly. "Murder ishideous, call it what you will. The brand of Cain doth defame a man andcarries its curse with it. No man can justify so dastardly a crime. 'Tissophistry to suggest it."
"Then in sending Barneveld to the scaffold did the Prince of Orange callthat curse upon himself, a curse which--please the God ofvengeance!--will come home to him now at last."
"'Tis not for you, Nicolaes, to condemn him, who has heaped favours,kindness, bounties upon our father and upon us. 'Tis not for you, theStadtholder's debtor for everything you are, for everything that youpossess, 'tis not for you to avenge Barneveld's wrongs."
"'Tis not for you, my sister," he retorted hotly, "to preach to me yourelder brother. I alone am responsible for mine actions, and have noaccount to give to any one."
"You owe an account of your actions to your father and to me, Nicolaes,since your dishonour will fall upon us too."
"Take care, Gilda, take care!" he exclaimed hoarsely, "you speak ofthings which are beyond your ken, but in speaking them you presume on myforebearance ... and on your sex."
"There is no one in sight," she said calmly, "you may strike me withoutfear. One crime more or less on your conscience will soon cease totrouble you."
"Gilda!" he cried with sudden passionate reproach.
At this involuntary cry--in which the expression of latent affection forher struggled with that of his rage and of his burning anxiety--all herown tender feelings for him, her womanliness, her motherly instinctswere re-awakened in an instant. They had only been dormant for awhile,because of her horror of what she had heard. And that horror of amonstrous deed, that sense of shame that he--her brother--should be soready to acquiesce in a crime had momentarily silenced the call ofsisterly love. But this love once re-awakened was strong enough to dobattle in her heart on his behalf: the tense rigidity of her attituderelaxed, her mouth softened, her eyes filled with tears. The next momentshe had turned fully to him and was looking pleadingly into his face.
"Little brother," she murmured gently, "tell me that it is not true.That it was all a hideous dream."
He looked down on her for a moment. It pleased him to think that heraffection for him was still there, that at any rate his personal safetymight prove a potent argument against the slightest thought ofindiscretion on her part. She tried to read his thoughts, but everythingwas dark around them both, the outline of his brow and mouth alone stoodclearly out from the gloom: the expression of his eyes she could notfathom. But womanlike she was ready to believe that he would relent. Itis so difficult for a woman to imagine that one whom she loves is reallyprone to evil. She loved this brother dearly, and did not grasp the factthat he had reached a point in his life when a woman's pleading had notthe power to turn him from his purpose. She did not know how deeply hehad plunged into the slough of conspiracy, and that the excitement of ithad fired his blood to the exclusion of righteousness and of loyalty.She hoped--in the simplicity of her heart--that he was only misled, thatevil counsels had only temporarily prevailed. Like a true woman shestill saw the child in this brother who had grown to manhood by herside.
Therefore she appealed and she pleaded, she murmured tender words andmade fond suggestions, all the while that his heart was hard toeverything except to the one purpose which she was trying to thwart.
Not unkindly but quite firmly he detached her clinging arms from roundhis neck.
"Let us call it a dream, little sister," he said firmly, "and do you tryand forget it."
"That I cannot, Nicolaes," she replied, "unless you will promise me...."
"To betray my friends?" he sneered.
"I would not ask you to do that: but you can draw back ... it is not toolate.... For our father's sake, and for mine, Nicolaes," she pleadedonce more earnestly. "Oh think, little brother, think! It cannot be thatyou could countenance such a hideous crime, you who were always so loyaland so brave! I remember when you were quite a tiny boy what contemptyou had for little Jakob Steyn because he told lies, and how youthrashed Frans van Overstein because he ill-treated a dog.... Littlebrother, when our father was ruined, penniless, after that awful siegeof Haarlem, which is still a hideous memory to him, the Prince of Orangehelped him with friendship and money to re-establish his commerce, hestood by him loyally, constantly, until more prosperous days dawned uponour house. Little brother, you have oft heard our father tell the tale,think ... oh, think of the blow you would be dealing him if you lent ahand to conspiracy against the Prince. Little brother, for our father'ssake, for mine, do not let yourself be dragged into the toils of thattreacherous Stoutenburg."
"You call him treacherous now, but you loved him once."
"It is because I loved him once," she rejoined earnestly, "that I callhim treacherous now."
He made no comment on this, for he knew in his heart of hearts that whatshe said was true. He knew nothing of course of the events of that nightin the early s
pring of the year when Gilda had sheltered and comfortedthe man who had so basely betrayed her; but for her ministration to himthen, when exhausted and half-starved he sought shelter under her roof,in her very room--he would not have lived for this further plotting andthis further infamy, nor yet to drag her brother down with him into theabyss of his own disgrace.
Of this nocturnal visit Gilda had never spoken to anyone, not even toNicolaes who she knew was Stoutenburg's friend, least of all to herfather, whose wrath would have fallen heavily on her had he known thatshe had harboured a traitor in his house.
"Stoutenburg lied to me, Nicolaes," she now said, seeing that still herbrother remained silent and morose, "he lied to me when he stole mylove, only to cast it away from him as soon as ambition called him frommy side. And as he lied then, so will he lie to you, little brother, hewill steal your allegiance, use you for his own ends and cast youruthlessly from him if he find you no longer useful. Yes, I did love himonce," she continued earnestly, "when he thought of staining his handswith murder my love finally turned to contempt. This new infamy which heplots hath filled the measure of my hate. Turn from him, little brother,I do entreat you with my whole soul. He has been false to his God, falseto his prince, false to me! he will be false to you!"
"It is too late, Gilda," he retorted sombrely, "even if I were sominded, which please God! I am not."
"It is never too late to draw back from such an abyss of shame."
"Be silent, girl," he said more roughly, angered that he was making noheadway against her obstinacy. "God-verdomme! but I am a fool indeed tostand and parley here with you, when grave affairs wait upon my time.You talk at random and of things you do not understand: I had no mind toargue this matter out with you."
"I do not detain you, Nicolaes," she said simply, with a sigh of bitterdisappointment. "If you will but call Maria and the men who wait at thenorth door, I can easily relieve you of my presence."
"Yes, and you can go home to your pots and pans, to your sewing and yourlinen-chest, and remember to hold your tongue, as a woman should do, forif you breathe of what you have heard, if you betray Stoutenburg who ismy friend, it is me--your only brother--whom you will be sending to thescaffold."
"I would not betray you, Nicolaes," she said.
"Or any of my friends?"
"Or any of your friends."
"You swear it?" he urged.
"There is no need for an oath."
"Yes, there is a pressing need for an oath, Gilda," he retorted sternly."My friends expect it of you, and you must pledge yourself to them, toforget all that you heard to-night and never to breathe of it to anyliving soul."
"I cannot swear," she replied, "to forget that which my memory willretain in spite of my will: nor would I wish to forget, because I meanto exert all the power I possess to dissuade you from this abominablecrime, and because I mean to pray to God with all my might that He mayprevent the crime from being committed."
"You may pray as much as you like," he said roughly, "but I'll not haveyou breathe a word of it to any living soul."
"My father has the right to know of the disgrace that threatens him."
"You would not tell him?" he exclaimed hoarsely.
"Not unless...."
"Unless what?"
"I cannot say. 'Tis all in God's hands and I do not know yet what myduty is. As you say I am only a woman, and my place is with my pots andpans, my sewing and my spindle. I have no right to have thoughts of mineown. Perhaps you are right, and in that case my father must indeed bethe one to act. But this I do swear to you, Nicolaes, that before youstain your hand with the blood of one who, besides being your sovereignlord, is your father's benefactor and friend, I will implore God above,that my father and I may both die ere we see you and ourselves sodisgraced."
Before he could detain her by word or gesture she had slipped past himand turned to walk quickly toward the facade of the cathedral. Anoutstanding piece of masonry soon hid her from his view. For the momenthe had thoughts of following her. Nicolaes Beresteyn was not a man wholiked being thwarted, least of all by a woman, and there was a sense ofinsecurity for him in what she had said at the last. His life and thatof his friends lay in the hands of that young girl who had spoken somevery hard words to him just now. He loved her as a brother should, andwould not for his very life have seen her in any danger, but he had alla man's desire for mastery and hatred of dependence: she had angered anddefied him, and yet remained in a sense his master.
He and his friends were dependent on her whim--he would not call itloyalty or sense of duty to be done--it was her whim that would hold thethreads of a conspiracy which he firmly believed had the welfare ofHolland and of religion for its object, and it was her whim that wouldhold the threat of the scaffold over himself and Stoutenburg and theothers. The situation was intolerable.
He ground his heel upon the stone and muttered an oath under his breath.If only Gilda had been a man how simple would his course of action havebeen. A man can be coerced by physical means, but a woman ... and thatwoman his own sister!
It was hard for Nicolaes Beresteyn, to have to think the situation outcalmly, dispassionately, to procrastinate, to let the matter rest at anyrate until the next day. But this he knew that he must do. He felt thathe had exhausted all the arguments, all the reasonings that wereconsistent with his own pride; and how could he hope to coerce her intooaths or promises of submission here in the open street and with Mariaand Jakob and Piet close by--eavesdropping mayhap?
Gilda was obstinate and had always been allowed more latitude in the wayof thinking things out for herself than was good for any woman; butNicolaes knew that she would not take any momentous step in a hurry. Shewould turn the whole of the circumstances over in her mind and as shesaid do some praying too. What she would do afterwards he dared not evenconjecture.
For the moment he was forced to leave her alone, and primarily hedecided to let his friends know at once how the matter stood.
He found them waiting anxiously for his return. I doubt if they hadspoken much during his absence. A chorus of laconic inquiry greeted himas soon as his firm step rang out upon the flagstones.
"Well?"
"She has heard everything," he said quietly, "but, she will not betrayus. To this I pledge ye my word."