The patroon whispered to someone next him and after that two or three men left the hall. We were detained but a few moments longer. Then the men began to say good-by to their master. Only about one in ten of them lived on the estate. Some of these came to take his hand and even wept at parting. “You have been a good master. I’ll never forget when the old woman was sick,” said one. And another, “I’ll do my best for you. I’ve not forgot when my little boy died.” Truly this master was good to his own, save only when his malady was upon him. I was much touched by what I had just witnessed. From the assembly room I went to my own. I was anxious to read the secret contained in the second packet which Louis had hidden in the oven. But I was to be interrupted once again. I had hardly closed the door behind me when I discovered that I was not alone in the room. A tall figure, completely robed in a black mantle, stood in one corner. When I closed the door she stepped forward. “Mistress Van Volkenberg,” I exclaimed, “what has brought you here?” It took me several minutes to recover my self-possession. Miriam meantime dropped her cloak and stood blushing before me. Her voice trembled with confusion and she could hardly speak. “Oh, what will you think of me?” she broke out after one or two attempts to speak. “But I could not help it. Listen to me and let me go. What have you done? My father has given orders to have you watched. In a few minutes you will not be able to get away; you must go at once.” When she bade me go away and leave her there alone, I recalled a former occasion when I had resolved to protect this girl if need be against her father. “Shall I leave you here?” I asked. “Me? What have I to do with it? Go, go; do not stay; you must, you must.” She laid hold of my arm and tried to push me towards the door. “Why do you want me to go?” She became silent and the bright color came into her cheeks. “You must go. I want you to save yourself.” “I cannot go,” I answered. “Why?” “Because I love you.” She stepped backward as if frightened at my simple words. “Mistress Van Volkenberg,” I continued, “I am a plain woer. I do not know how to tell you what I feel. My heart tells me that I love you, but how shall I make you know it? Bid me to do something. Prove my love. Do you care nothing for how I feel?” She came a step closer. “I am a Catholic.” “Does not that prove my love? You know what I have had to suffer from your church.” “Yes, you have told me a little,” she answered. “But—” I would have no buts. I caught both her hands in mine and gazed into her eyes wondering what she would say if she knew who I really was. For a moment she held away from me. Then I felt her sway gently forward. “Do you love me, Miriam?” “Yes.” For a moment I held her in my arms. Her face lay close upon my shoulder. I could feel her heart beating quickly, and there was a sweet smell about her hair like fresh flowers. Then she whispered softly: