So the dead Oliver lost even renown. His genius went to give another fame; his body tossed into his own beloved Y; his head thrown into Haarlem as carrion. He died that Holland might live free, that a new age might come when men could live their own lives, think their own thoughts, and cry out to God in their own way. He has only the glory of the patriot—but is not that enough? From the sight of her father’s despair and humiliation Guy carries his bride to the landing-place. Here all his boats await him, the seamen rapidly bringing down such of Hermoine’s belongings as they can readily put hands upon, Alida, the Moorish girl, directing them. Finally, her mistress’s jewel case in her hand, she takes seat by Hermoine in the stern sheets of the gig. Then Chester calls to his men and the seamen bending to their oars, the gig parts the waters of the Schelde making toward the Dover Lass. “Dost remember our last boating on this river together?” whispers Guy, into the ear of his bride. “The unknown lady, who was to promote me to a Colonel, eh?” “And have I not done more for you, my husband?” returns Lady Chester—née Hermoine de Alva—in his ear. Looking on her beauty, Guy’s glance is answer to this; there is no need of words. Making the Dover Lass, Chester carries in his arms his bride, and bearing her to the cabin, Hermoine looks round and murmurs, startled: “Thy ship is fitted up as a State galley or sovereign’s ship of pomp, my lord,” for Achille has, with French taste, made the cabins like a lady’s boudoir, with fresh flowers brought from the shore. “Yes, it was for a honeymoon cruise I decorated these cabins. It was for thee.” “And you felt so sure of winning me—with against you all the power of Spain? What indomitable determination, what intense assurance you English have!” The last is a slight laugh. Then her face grows serious and she falters: “What awful risks you took to win your bride, my Guy—my Englishman!” But Chester has to tear himself from her and go on deck to forget the bridegroom in the sailor. The flag of England is run up on the Dover Lass, her sails are spread, and the vessel speeds down the Schelde estuary, and passes Flushing, for Guy will not stop there for fear of pursuing Spanish warships. The next evening as they drop anchor they hear the merry church bells of Harwich steeple. “Welcome to England,” cries Guy, and takes his bride on shore. Here it is given out that Chester has captured a galleon of most wondrous riches: and he pays thereon ten per cent., as is usual, to the crown of England, by Drake, Hawkins and other rovers of the sea. The rest of the treasure, by the law of the land is his, and he makes division with Bodé Volcker, paying him his share. With this money in hand the commercial Fleming hies him to Holland, and some years after when Amsterdam is taken by Orange, settles there, to become one of its merchant princes.