Vanslyperken walked away, he hardly knew whither—­his mind was a chaos.  It did so happen, that he took the direction of his mother’s house, and, as he gradually recovered himself, he hastened there to give vent to his feelings.  The old woman seldom or ever went out; if she did, it was in the dusk, to purchase in one half-hour enough to support existence for a fortnight.

She was at home with her door locked, as usual, when he demanded admittance.

“Come in, child, come in,” said the old beldame, as with palsied hands she undid the fastenings.  “I dreamt of you, last night, Cornelius, and when I dream of others it bodes them no good.”

Vanslyperken sat down on a chest, without giving any answer.  He put his hand up to his forehead, and groaned in the bitterness of his spirit.

“Ah! ah!” said his mother “I have put my hand up in that way in my time.  Yes, yes—­when my brain burned—­when I had done the deed.  What have you done, my child?  Pour out your feelings into your mother’s bosom.  Tell me all—­tell me why—­and tell me, did you get any money?”

“I have lost everything,” replied Vanslyperken, in a melancholy tone.

“Lost everything! then you must begin over again, and take from others till you have recovered all.  That’s the way—­I’ll have more yet, before I die.  I shall not die yet—­no, no.”

Vanslyperken remained silent for some time.  He then, as usual, imparted to his mother all that had occurred.

“Well, well, my child; but there is the other one.  Gold is gold, one wife is as good—­to neglect—­as another.  My child, never marry a woman for love—­she will make a fool of you.  You have had a lucky escape—­I see you have, Cornelius.  But where is the gold you said you took for turning traitor—­where is it?”

“I shall bring it on shore to-morrow, mother.”

“Do, child, do.  They may find you out—­they may hang you—­but they shall never wrest the gold from me.  It will be safe—­quite safe, with me, as long as I live.  I shall not die yet—­no, no.”

Vanslyperken rose to depart; he was anxious to be aboard.

“Go, child, go.  I have hopes of you—­you have murdered, have you not?”

“No, no,” replied Vanslyperken, “he lives yet.”

“Then try again.  At all events, you have wished to murder, and you have sold your country for gold.  Cornelius Vanslyperken, by the hatred I bear the whole world, I feel that I almost love you now;—­I see you are my own child.  Now go, and mind to-morrow you bring the gold.”

Vanslyperken quitted the house, and walked down to go on board again; the loss of the fair widow, all his hopes dashed at once to the ground, his having neglected the widow Vandersloosh and sent her an insulting message, had only the effect of raising his bile.  He vowed vengeance against everybody and everything, especially against Smallbones, whom he was determined he would sacrifice:  murder now was no longer horrible to his ideas; on the contrary, there was a pleasure in meditating upon it, and the loss of the expected fortune of the fair Mrs Malcolm only made him more eager to obtain gold, and he contemplated treason as the means of so doing without any feelings of compunction.