"Oh! my poor child! my poor child!... Who will save my baby?" the mother cried in a heart-rending voice. "You yourself will save it," the stranger said. The thrilling tones of that voice went to the young mother's heart and brought hope with them; she heard the gracious words through all the whistling of the wind and the shrieks of the passengers. "Holy Virgin of Good Help, who art at Antwerp, I promise thee a thousand pounds of wax and a statue, if thou wilt rescue me from this!" cried the burgher, kneeling upon his bags of gold. "The Virgin is no more at Antwerp than she is here," was the doctor's comment on this appeal. "She is in heaven," said a voice that seemed to come from the sea. "Who said that?" "'Tis the devil!" exclaimed the servant. "He is scoffing at the Virgin of Antwerp." "Let us have no more of your Holy Virgin at present," the skipper cried to the passengers. "Put your hands to the scoops and bail the water out of the boat.--And the rest of you," he went on, addressing the sailors, "pull with all your might! Now is the time; in the name of the devil who is leaving you in this world, be your own Providence! Every one knows that the channel is fearfully dangerous; I have been to and fro across it these thirty years. Am I facing a storm for the first time to-night?" He stood at the helm, and looked, as before, at his boat and at the sea and sky in turn. "The skipper always laughs at everything," muttered Thomas. "Will God leave us to perish along with those wretched creatures?" asked the haughty damsel of the handsome cavalier. "No, no, noble maiden.... Listen!" and he caught her by the waist and said in her ear, "I can swim, say nothing about it! I will hold you by your fair hair and bring you safely to the shore; but I can only save you." The girl looked at her aged mother. The lady was on her knees entreating absolution of the Bishop, who did not heed her. In the beautiful eyes the knight read a vague feeling of filial piety, and spoke in a smothered voice. "Submit yourself to the will of God. If it is His pleasure to take your mother to Himself, it will doubtless be for her happiness--in another world," he added, and his voice dropped still lower. "And for ours in this," he thought within himself. The Dame of Rupelmonde was lady of seven fiefs beside the barony of Gavres.