The voice of the little man was most peculiar--it was a sort of subdued scream, the notes of which sounded in your ear long after he had ceased to speak. "I am Schriften, one of the pilots of the _Ter Schilling_," continued the man; "and I'm come--he! he!"--and he looked hard at Amine--"to take you away from love"--and looking at the buffets--"he! he! from comfort, and from this also," cried he, stamping his foot on the floor as he rose from the sofa--"from terra firma--he! he!--to a watery grave perhaps. Pleasant!" continued Schriften, with a giggle; and with a countenance full of meaning he fixed his one eye on Philip's face. Philip's first impulse was to put his new visitor out of the door; but Amine, who read his thoughts, folded her arms as she stood before the little man, and eyed him with contempt, as she observed:-- "We all must meet our fate, good fellow; and, whether by land or sea, death will have his due. If death stare him in the face, the cheek of Philip Vanderdecken will never turn as white as yours is now." "Indeed!" replied Schriften, evidently annoyed at this cool determination on the part of one so young and beautiful; and then fixing his eye upon the silver shrine of the Virgin on the mantel-piece--"You are a Catholic, I perceive--he!" "I am a Catholic," replied Philip; "but does that concern you? When does the vessel sail?" "In a week--he! he!--only a week for preparation--only seven days to leave all--short notice!" "More than sufficient," replied Philip, rising up from the sofa. "You may tell your captain that I shall not fail. Come, Amine, we must lose no time." "No, indeed," replied Amine, "and our first duty is hospitality: Mynheer, may we offer you refreshment after your walk?" "This day week," said Schriften, addressing Philip, and without making a reply to Amine. Philip nodded his head, the little man turned on his heel and left the room, and in a short time was out of sight. Amine sank down on the sofa. The breaking-up of her short hour of happiness had been too sudden, too abrupt, and too cruelly brought about for a fondly doting, although heroic, woman. There was an evident malignity in the words and manner of the one-eyed messenger, an appearance as if he knew more than others, which awed and confused both Philip and herself. Amine wept not, but she covered her face with her hands as Philip, with no steady pace, walked up and down the small room. Again, with all the vividness of colouring, did the scenes half forgotten recur to his memory. Again did he penetrate the fatal chamber--again was it obscure. The embroidery lay at his feet, and once more he started as when the letter appeared upon the floor.