Mechanically he turned the letter over; the seal was black. Philip sighed."I cannot read it now," thought he, and he rose and continued his devious way.
For another half-hour did Philip keep in motion, and the sun was not many degrees above the horizon. Philip stopped and looked at it till his vision failed. "I could imagine that it was the eye of God," thought Philip, "and perhaps it may be. Why then, merciful Creator, am I thus selected from so many millions to fulfil so dire a task?"
Philip looked about him for some spot where he might be concealed from observationwhere he might break the seal, and read this mission from a world of spirits. A small copse of brushwood, in advance of a grove of trees, was not far from where he stood. He walked to it, and sat down, so as to be concealed from any passers-by. Philip once more looked at the descending orb of day, and by degrees he became composed.
"It is thy will," exclaimed he; "it is my fate, and both must be accomplished."
Philip put his hand to the seal,his blood thrilled when he called to mind that it had been delivered by no mortal hand, and that it contained the secret of one in judgment. He remembered that that one was his father; and that it was only in the letter that there was hope,hope for his poor father, whose memory he had been taught to love, and who appealed for help.
"Coward that I am, to have lost so many hours!" exclaimed Philip; "yon sun appears as if waiting on the hill, to give me light to read."
Philip mused a short time; he was once more the daring Vanderdecken. Calmly he broke the seal, which bore the initials of his father's name, and read as follows:
"To CATHERINE.
"One of those pitying spirits whose eyes rain tears for mortal crimes has been permitted to inform me by what means alone my dreadful doom may be averted.
"Could I but receive on the deck of my own ship the holy relic upon which I swore the fatal oath, kiss it in all humility, and shed one tear of deep contrition on the sacred wood, I then might rest in peace.
"How this may be effected, or by whom so fatal a task will be undertaken, I know not. O Catherine, we have a sonbut, no, no, let him not hear of me. Pray for me, and now, farewell.
"I. VANDERDECKEN.""Then it is true, most horribly true," thought Philip; "and my father is even now IN LIVING JUDGMENT. And he points to meto whom else should he? Am I not his son, and is it not my duty?
"Yes, father," exclaimed Philip aloud, falling on his knees, "you have not written these lines in vain. Let me peruse them once more."
Philip raised up his hand; but although it appeared to him that he had still hold of the letter, it was not therehe grasped nothing. He looked on the grass to see if it had fallenbut no, there was no letter, it had disappeared. Was it a vision?no, no, he had read every word. "Then it must be to me, and me alone, that the mission was intended. I accept the sign.
"Hear me, dear father,if thou art so permitted,and deign to hear me, gracious Heavenhear the son who, by this sacred relic, swears that he will avert your doom, or perish. To that will he devote his days; and having done his duty, he will die in hope and peace. Heaven, that recorded my rash father's oath, now register his son's upon the same sacred cross, and may perjury on my part be visited with punishment more dire than his! Receive it, Heaven, as at the last I trust that in thy mercy thou wilt receive the father and the son! and if too bold, O pardon my presumption."
Philip threw himself forward on his face, with his lips to the sacred symbol. The sun went down, and twilight gradually disappeared; night had, for some time, shrouded all in darkness, and Philip yet remained in alternate prayer and meditation.
But he was disturbed by the voices of some men, who sat down upon the turf but a few yards from where he was concealed. The conversation he little heeded; but it had roused him, and his first feeling was to return to the cottage, that he might reflect over his plans; but although the men spoke in a low tone, his attention was soon arrested by the subject of their conversation, when he heard the name mentioned of Mynheer Poots. He listened attentively, and discovered that they were four disbanded soldiers, who intended that night to attack the house of the little doctor, who had, they knew, much money in his possession.
"What I have proposed is the best," said one of them; "he has no one with him but his daughter."
"I value her more than his money," replied another; "so, recollect before we go, it is perfectly understood that she is to be my property."
"Yes, if you choose to purchase her, there's no objection," replied a third.
"Agreed; how much will you in conscience ask for a puling girl?"
"I say five hundred guilders," replied another.
"Well, be it so, but on this condition, that if my share of the booty does not amount to so much, I am to have her for my share, whatever it may be."
"That's very fair," replied the other; "but I'm much mistaken if we don't turn more than two thousand guilders out of the old man's chest."
"What do you two sayis it agreedshall Baetens have her?"
"O yes," replied the others.
"Well, then," replied the one who had stipulated for Mynheer Poots' daughter, "now I am with you, heart and soul. I loved that girl, and tried to get her,I positively offered to marry her, but the old hunks refused me, an ensign, an officer; but now I'll have revenge. We must not spare him."
"No, no," replied the others.
"Shall we go now, or wait till it is later? In an hour or more the moon will be up,we may be seen."
"Who is to see us? unless, indeed, some one is sent for him. The later the better, I say."
"How long will it take us to get there? Not half an hour, if we walk. Suppose we start in half an hour hence, we shall just have the moon to count the guilders by."
"That's all right. In the meantime I'll put a new flint in my lock, and have my carbine loaded. I can work in the dark."
"You are used to it, Jan."
"Yes, I am,and I intend this ball to go through the old rascal's head."
"Well, I'd rather you should kill him than I," replied one of the others, "for he saved my life at Middleburgh, when everyone made sure I'd die."
Philip did not wait to hear any more; he crawled behind the bushes until he gained the grove of trees, and passing through them, made a detour, so as not to be seen by these miscreants. That they were disbanded soldiers, many of whom were infesting the country, he knew well. All his thoughts were now to save the old doctor and his daughter from the danger which threatened them; and for a time he forgot his father, and the exciting revelations of the day. Although Philip had not been aware in what direction he had walked when he set off from the cottage, he knew the country well; and now that it was necessary to act, he remembered the direction in which he should find the lonely house of Mynheer Poots: with the utmost speed he made his way for it, and in less than twenty minutes he arrived there, out of breath.
As usual, all was silent, and the door fastened. Philip knocked, but there was no reply. Again and again he knocked, and became impatient. Mynheer Poots must have been summoned, and was not in the house; Philip therefore called out, so as to be heard within. "Maiden, if your father is out, as I presume he must be, listen to what I have to sayI am Philip Vanderdecken. But now I overheard four wretches who have planned to murder your father, and rob him of his gold. In one hour or less they will be here, and I have hastened to warn and to protect you, if I may. I swear upon the relic that you delivered to me this morning that what I state is true."
Philip waited a short time, but received no answer.
"Maiden," resumed he, "answer me, if you value that which is more dear to you, than even your father's gold to him. Open the casement above, and listen to what I have to say. In so doing there is no risk; and even if it were not dark, already have I seen you."
A short time after this second address, the casement of the upper window was unbarred, and the slight form of the fair daughter of Mynheer Poots was to be distinguished by Philip through the gloom.
"What wouldst thou, young sir, at this unseemly hour? and what is it thou wouldst impart, but imperfectly heard by me, when thou spokest this minute at the door?"
Philip then entered into a detail of all that he had overheard, and concluded by begging her to admit him, that he might defend her.
"Think, fair maiden, of what I have told you. You have been sold to one of those reprobates, whose name I think they mentioned, was Baetens. The gold, I know, you value not; but think of thine own dear selfsuffer me to enter the house, and think not for one moment that my story's feigned. I swear to thee, by the soul of my poor dear mother, now, I trust, in heaven, that every word is true."
"Baetens, said you, sir?"
"If I mistook them not, such was the name; he said he loved you once."
"That name I have in memoryI know not what to do or what to saymy father has been summoned to a birth, and may be yet away for many hours. Yet how can I open the door to youat nighthe is not at homeI alone? I ought notcannotyet do I believe you. You surely never could be so base as to invent this tale."
"Noupon my hopes of future bliss I could not, maiden! You must not trifle with your life and honour, but let me in."
"And if I did, what could you do against such numbers? They are four to onewould soon overpower you, and one more life would be lost."
"Not if you have arms; and I think your father would not be left without them. I fear them notyou know that I am resolute."
"I do indeedand now you'd risk your life for those you did assail. I thank youthank you kindly, sirbut dare not open the door."
"Then, maiden, if you'll not admit me, here will I now remain; without arms, and but ill able to contend with four armed villains; but still, here will I remain and prove my truth to one I will protect against any oddsyes, even here!"
"Then shall I be thy murderer!but that must not be. Oh! sirswear, swear by all that's holy, and by all that's pure, that you do not deceive me."
"I swear by thyself, maiden, than all to me more sacred!"
The casement closed, and in a short time a light appeared above. In a minute or two more the door was opened to Philip by the fair daughter of Mynheer Poots. She stood with the candle in her right hand, the colour in her cheeks varyingnow flushing red, and again deadly pale. Her left hand was down by her side, and in it she held a pistol half concealed. Philip perceived this precaution on her part but took no notice of it; he wished to reassure her.
"Maiden!" said he, not entering, "if you still have doubtsif you think you have been ill-advised in giving me admissionthere is yet time to close the door against me: but for your own sake I entreat you not. Before the moon is up, the robbers will be here. With my life I will protect you, if you will but trust me. Who indeed could injure one like you?"
She was indeed (as she stood irresolute and perplexed from the peculiarity of her situation, yet not wanting in courage when, it was to be called forth) an object well worthy of gaze and admiration. Her features thrown into broad light and shade by the candle which at times was half extinguished by the windher symmetry of form and the gracefulness and singularity of her attirewere matter of astonishment to Philip. Her head was without covering, and her long hair fell in plaits behind her shoulders; her stature was rather under the middle size, but her form perfect; her dress was simple but becoming, and very different from that usually worn by the young women of the district. Not only her features but her dress would at once have indicated to a traveller that she was of Arab blood, as was the fact.
She looked in Philip's face as she spokeearnestly, as if she would have penetrated into his inmost thoughts; but there was a frankness and honesty in his bearing, and a sincerity in his manly countenance, which reassured her. After a moment's hesitation she replied
"Come in, sir; I feel that I can trust you."
Philip entered. The door was then closed and made secure.
"We have no time to lose, maiden," said Philip: "but tell me your name, that I may address you as I ought."
"My name is Amine," replied she, retreating a little.
"I thank you for that little confidence; but I must not dally. What arms have you in the house, and have you ammunition?"
"Both. I wish that my father would come home."
"And so do I," replied Philip, "devoutly wish he would, before these murderers come; but not, I trust, while the attack is making, for there's a carbine loaded expressly for his head, and if they make him prisoner, they will not spare his life, unless his gold and your person are given in ransom. But the arms, maidenwhere are they?"
"Follow me," replied Amine, leading Philip to an inner room on the upper floor. It was the sanctum of her father, and was surrounded with shelves filled with bottles and boxes of drugs. In one corner was an iron chest, and over the mantel-piece were a brace of carbines and three pistols.
"They are all loaded," observed Amine, pointing to them, and laying on the table the one which she had held in her hand.
Philip took down the arms, and examined all the primings. He then took up from the table the pistol which Amine had laid there, and threw open the pan. It was equally well prepared. Philip closed the pan, and with a smile observed,
"So this was meant for me, Amine?"
"Nonot for youbut for a traitor, had one gained admittance."
"Now, maiden," observed Philip, "I shall station myself at the casement which you opened, but without a light in the room. You may remain here, and can turn the key for your security."
"You little know me," replied Amine. "In that way at least I am not fearful; I must remain near you and reload the armsa task in which I am well practised."
"No, no," replied Philip; "you might be hurt."
"I may. But think you I will remain here idly, when I can assist one who risks his life for me? I know my duty, sir, and I shall perform it."
"You must not risk your life, Amine," replied Philip; "my aim will not be steady, if I know that you're in danger. But I must take the arms into the other chamber, for the time is come."
Philip, assisted by Amine, carried the carbines and pistols into the adjoining chamber; and Amine then left Philip, carrying with her the light. Philip, as soon as he was alone, opened the casement and looked outthere was no one to be seen; he listened, but all was silent. The moon was just rising above the distant hill, but her light was dimmed by fleecy clouds, and Philip watched for a few minutes; at length he heard a whispering below. He looked out, and could distinguish through the dark the four expected assailants, standing close to the door of the house. He walked away softly from the window, and went into the next room to Amine, whom he found busy preparing the ammunition.
"Amine, they are at the door, in consultation. You can see them now, without risk. I thank them, for they will convince you that I have told the truth."
Amine, without reply, went into the front room and looked out of the window. She returned, and laying her hand upon Philip's arm, she said