'By refunding what you owe me out of the guilders of Dolores,' replied the Heer, as he and Morganstjern shook hands again; but the latter became silent for a time. He knew the Heer van Schrekhorn to be a rascal capable of committing any outrage, and also that he had personally a special grudge at Lewie Baronald. Dolores was beautiful. What if this scheme so speciously arranged, was one for his own behoof, to carry her off, leaving the onus of the abduction on the shoulders of him--Morganstjern--after passing a sword through his body among the willows near the old mill on the Maese. But this grave suspicion was only a passing thought, and he thrust it aside. 'This may preclude your return for some time, and compromise you with the authorities,' said the Heer. 'Their reign will soon be over; and when a French army comes to the assistance of the Dutch patriots, the Prince of Orange may find himself a fugitive in England.' 'But we must be wary; not for all the gold and silver bars in the Bank of Amsterdam would I be in your shoes if we fail. The Burgomasters are worse than the devil to face, and we may find ourselves behind the grilles of the Gevangepoort or the Rasp-haus, as brawlers.' 'A thousand duyvels!--fail? don't think of it.' Had Maurice Morganstjern known the intentions of General Kinloch towards his nephew, and the plans he had formed to separate him from Dolores, he might have patiently awaited the events of the next few days; but as he was ignorant of them, he and the malevolent Heer van Schrekhorn laid all their plans for the abduction of the girl with caution, confidence, and extreme deliberation, before they quitted the Golden Sun that night. CHAPTER VII. THE GENERAL'S SECRET. Next day, when Lewie Baronald, apparelled in all his regimental bravery, was setting forth to visit Dolores, he was summoned by General Kinloch, who, after working himself up to a certain degree of sternness or firmness, real or assumed, for the occasion, said: 'Stay, young man, I pray you, as we must have some conversation together.' Lewie took off his Khevenhüller hat, and fearing that some animadversions were coming, played a little irresolutely with its upright scarlet feather. 'Your name has gone in for foreign service, Lewie,' said the General. 'To whom, sir?' 'The Director-General of Infantry.' 'Sent by you, uncle?' 'Yes, sir, by me.' 'You might at least have consulted with me in this matter. How cruel of you, uncle, under all the circumstances!' exclaimed Lewie, with sudden bitterness and intense anger. 'You will come to think it kindness in time, boy; I seek but to save you from what I, in my time, underwent.' 'If I refuse to go?' 'Refuse, and compromise your honour and mine--yea, the honour of the Brigade itself! My dear Lewie, when you have lived in this world as long as I----' 'Why, uncle, you are only forty!' 'Not yet twice your age, certainly--well?'