of his poverty,—­he is your descendant, your son!  If the gaze of his fellow-men tortures him, before you at least he is not ashamed of debasing toil! glorious ancestry! you have fought the foes of your native land with sword and pen; but I,—­I have to contend with unmerited shame and mockery, without a hope of ultimate triumph or glory; my weary soul sinks under its burden, and the world has nothing in store for me but scorn and contempt!  And, yet, have I ever stained your noble escutcheon?  All that I have done is generous and honest in the sight of God;—­nay, the very fountain-head of my wo is love and compassion!  Yes, yes!—­fix your glittering eyes on me; contemplate me in the abyss of poverty where I am fallen!  From the bottom of that pit I lift my brow boldly toward you, and your silent glance does not force me to grovel in the earth with shame!  Here, in the presence of your noble images, I am alone with my soul, with my conscience;—­hero, no mortification can touch the being who, as gentleman, Christian, brother, and father, has sacrificed himself to duty!”

His voice ceased; and for a few moments he stood still in the midnight silence, looking at the antique portraits as the last echoes died away in the lofty apartment, with his arms stretched toward the pictures as if invoking the beings they represented.

“Poor, senseless creature,” continued he, after a while, clasping his hands and lifting them anew to heaven, “thy soul seeks deliverance in dreams!  Yes; it is, perhaps, a dream, an illusion!  Yet, thanks, thanks to the Almighty that allows even a dream to fortify me with courage and endurance!  Enough:  reality once more stares me in the face; and yet I defy the mocking spectre which points to ruin and misery!”

“And then to-morrow,—­to-morrow!” continued he; “wilt thou not tremble beneath the glance of those who seek the secret of thy life?  Yes; study well thy part; have ready thy mask; go on bravely with thy cowardly farce!  And now begone; thy nightly task is done;—­beg, beg from sleep the oblivion of what thou art and of thy threatening future! Sleep! I tremble at the very thought of it!  Father in heaven, have mercy on us!”

CHAPTER III.

At daybreak next morning everybody was busy at Grinselhof.  John’s wife and her serving-maid scoured the corridor and staircase; the farmer cleaned his stable; his son weeded the grass from the garden-walks.  Very early in the day Lenora set matters in order in the dining-room and arranged with artistic taste all the pretty things she could find on the mantel-piece and tables.  There was a degree of life and activity about Grinselhof that had not been seen in that solitude for many a year, and everybody went to work with alacrity, as if anxious to dispel the gloom that hung so long over the lonely dwelling.  In the midst of the industrious crowd Monsieur De Vlierbeck might be seen moving about with words of encouragement and expressions of satisfaction; nor did he manifest the slightest symptom of the anxiety that was secretly gnawing his heart.  A pleasant smile flattered his humble dependants, as he gave them to understand that their labors would be greatly honored by the approval of his expected guests.