“It is a good omen, Foy,” she said. “Fight your fight and leave us to fight ours. ‘Through much tribulation we must enter into the Kingdom of God,’ where at last there is a rest remaining for us all. It is a good omen. Your father was right and I was wrong. Now I have no more to fear; I am satisfied.” None of them seemed to be amazed or to find these words wonderful and out of the common. For them the hand of approaching Doom had opened the gates of Distance, and they knew everyone that through these some light had broken on their souls, a faint flicker of dawn from beyond the clouds. They accepted it in thankfulness. “I think that is all I have to say,” said Dirk in his usual voice. “No, it is not all,” and he told them of his plan for flight. They listened and agreed to it, yet to them it seemed a thing far off and unreal. None of them believed that this escape would ever be carried out. All of them believed that here in Leyden they would endure the fiery trial of their faith and win each of them its separate crown. When everything was discussed, and each had learned the lesson of what he must do that day, Foy asked if Adrian was to be told of the scheme. To this his father answered hastily that the less it was spoken of the better, therefore he proposed to tell Adrian late that night only, when he could make up his mind whether he would accompany them or stay in Leyden. “Then he shan’t go out to-night, and will come with us as far as the ship only if I can manage it,” muttered Martin beneath his breath, but aloud he said nothing. Somehow it did not seem to him to be worth while to make trouble about it, for he knew that if he did his mistress and Foy, who believed so heartily in Adrian, would be angry. “Father and mother,” said Foy again, “while we are gathered here there is something I wish to say to you.” “What is it, son?” asked Dirk. “Yesterday I became affianced to Elsa Brant, and we wish to ask your consent and blessing.” “That will be gladly given, son, for I think this very good news. Bring her here, Foy,” answered Dirk. But although in his hurry Foy did not notice it, his mother said nothing. She liked Elsa well indeed—who would not?—but oh! this brought them a step nearer to that accursed treasure, the treasure which from generation to generation had been hoarded up that it might be a doom to men. If Foy were affianced to Elsa, it was his inheritance as well as hers, for those trusts of Hendrik Brant’s will were to Lysbeth things unreal and visionary, and its curse would fall upon him as well as upon her. Moreover it might be said that he was marrying her to win the wealth. “This betrothal does not please you; you are sad, wife,” said Dirk, looking at her quickly. “Yes, husband, for now I think that we shall never get out of Leyden. I pray that Adrian may not hear of it, that is all.” “Why, what has he to do with the matter?”