That imagination which Harry had once entertained of Andrew’s passing into Holland and being safe there as an exile proved to be no impossible device, in spite of the war between the English and the Dutch.  For while we still lay at Calais in the Marie-Royale (I must ever admire her captain’s courage in taking us poor fugitives on board, even though Harry was warrant for our soundness), there came letters from certain Friends called Derricks, of the Dutch nation.  They had heard of Andrew’s strange escape from prison, I wot not by what means; for the Friends have their own ways of learning news of one another.  These good people willed him to go make his home under their roof in Amsterdam; and he was very fain to seek that shelter, being exceedingly weary in spirit, as one half spent with toil and grief; only two things held him back.  The one was his love for our dear and cruel country England, which made him shrink from dwelling in a land at enmity with her; and the other was my sister.  Now the first scruple Harry overcame thus.

‘You needs must dwell in some foreign land,’ he said, ’for England is altogether unsafe for you.  Should you choose France, as Captain Maret would have you, you choose a land chiefly Papist, and now full of oppression; and my life on it, there will be war between France and England this very winter,’ a saying which proved too true.  ’So the balance must dip in favour of Holland, a Protestant country, where you shall live under just laws and among faithful friends who believe as you do.  Is not this worth weighing, brother?’ and Andrew said, ‘It is,’ but yet he hesitated; and I needed not the sight of his questioning look at Althea, nor of her dropt eyelids and whitening cheek, to guess the reason of his hesitation.

The next morning after we had this talk, Harry, Althea, and I were sat idly on deck, basking in the sunshine, and drinking the sweet air, while we watched the sailors at work; when we saw Andrew come feebly towards us, at which we sprang up surprised, for he had not heretofore risen so early, because of his great weakness.  Althea would have had him rest on the cushions from which we had risen, but saying, ’I would rather stand awhile,’ he leaned on Harry’s shoulder for support; and indeed he looked deathly when his white and wasted face was seen beside Harry’s countenance, all bronzed with sun and wind, and glowing with health and life.

‘Althea Dacre,’ he said, looking steadily at her, ’I have sought all night long for a light on the path I must now take; and a word is ever in my ears, “Speak to the maiden thou lovest, her word shall lead thee!” Thou knowest I were loth to part from thee, who hast sought me and spent thyself for me—­and more loth to think that we are parted in spirit.  Yet if thy heart be not as my heart towards God, we must be parted now and ever.  I implore thee, speak the perfect truth to me, and do not colour or change it.’