Ere the words were finished, Mrs. Gordon’s voice was audible.  She came into the room laughing, with the smell of fresh violets and the feeling of the brisk wind around her.  “Dear madam,” she cried, “I entreat you for a favour.  I am going to take the air this afternoon:  be so good as to let Katherine come with me.  For I must tell you that the colonel has orders for Boston, and I may see my charming friend no more after to-day.”

“Katherine, what say you?  Will you go?”

“Please, mijn moeder.”

“Make great haste, then.”  For Lysbet was pleased with the offer, and fearful that Joris might arrive, and refuse to let his daughter accept it.  She hoped that Katherine would receive some comforting message; and she was glad that on this day, of all others, Captain Hyde’s aunt should be seen with her.  It would in some measure stop evil surmises; and it left an air of uncertainty about the captain’s relationship to Katherine, which made the humiliation of his departure less keen.

[Illustration:  “I am going to take the air this afternoon”]

“Stay not long,” she whispered, “for your father’s sake.  There is no good, more trouble to give him.”

“Well, my dear, you look like a ghost.  Have you not one smile for a woman so completely in your interest?  When I promised Dick this morning that I would be sure to get word to you, I was at my wits’ end to discover a way.  But, when I am between the horns of a dilemma, I find it the best plan to take the bull by the horns.  Hence, I have made you a visit which seems to have quite nonplussed you and your good mother.”

“I thought Richard had gone.”

“And you were breaking your heart, that is easy to be seen.  He has gone, but he will come back to-night at eight o’clock.  No matter what happens, be at the river-side.  Do not fail Dick:  he is taking his life in his hand to see you.”

“I will be there.”

“La! what are you crying for, child?  Poor girl!  What are you crying for?  Dick, the scamp?  He is not worthy of such pure tears; and yet, believe me, he loves you to distraction.”

“I thought he had gone—­gone, without a word.”

“Faith, you are not complimentary!  I flatter myself that our Dick is a gentleman.  I do, indeed.  And, as he is yet perfectly in his senses, you might have trusted him.”

“And you, do you go to Boston to-morrow?”

“The colonel does.  At present, I have no such intentions.  But I had to have some extraordinary excuse, and I could invent no other.  However, you may say anything, if you only say it with an assurance.  Madam wished me a pleasant journey.  I felt a little sorry to deceive so fine a lady.”

“When will Richard return?”

“Indeed, I think you will have to answer for his resolves.  But he will speak for himself; and, in faith, I told him that he had come to a point where I would be no longer responsible for his actions.  I am thankful to own that I have some conscience left.”